A black dog visits me once a month. He doesn’t have a schedule, he shows up as he pleases. Yesterday he came to say hello. My black dog and I have a connection, because he doesn’t bark and makes no sound, you cannot tell just when he appears. But I do; his bare presence transforms the atmosphere around: cold silence presses against my chest, I know he’s arrived.

We love long walks on paths without direction, we walk not knowing when it will end. My black dog moves so silently you cannot tell he is with me, it’s only because of the rhyme in our steps that I know he is by my side.

His eyes absorb all color and reflect none, an entire absence of light that lacks of all sensation.

People around hide their face but not me, the silence of his presence and the disturbing lack of emotion on his eyes comfort me.

Some may call him a curse, other a sickness. Some may even dare to say he isn’t real, if they could just feel how his steps resound in my heart, like the echo bouncing on the walls of an empty room with every heartbeat. But they would never understand no matter how much I explain it.

Today when I woke up he was gone, but he stays close enough that I can always feel him near.