The Coworker

Random Thoughts from a Restless Mind

Category: General

Published On: October 1, 2026

I just got home from Heart of the Beast. It's Brad Pitt and a dog, and I'm not going to say anything else about it because it's still in theaters, except that I cried in the theater and I'm fine with that. Hubert is on the floor in front of me right now chewing a new toy like it owes him money, and I'm sitting here with a glass of water trying to put into words something I've been circling for a while.
He's nine. French Bulldogs don't get a long run, and he's starting to show his age. I know that. I've known it for a while in the abstract way you know things you don't want to look at directly. The movie made me look at it directly.
So here's where I've landed, and I'm writing it down so it's real: for however long he's here, spending time with him is the job. Not a hobby, not a nice-to-have, not something I fit in around the work. The work fits in around him.
In practice that's not dramatic. It's the evening walk we've been doing for a while now, and the shorter midday ones that have gotten shorter because he's slowing down and I'd rather match his pace than drag him through mine. It's him supervising from across the room while I work, which if you read the Dev Logs you already know about. It's buying a new toy on a Thursday for no reason. It's noticing, which is most of it. I spent years not noticing much. I'm trying to do better at that while it still counts.
The movie also reminded me how protective I feel of him. I don't think I'd put that into words before. But it's there, and it's not small. If I'm honest, some days it's the clearest reason I can give for getting up and doing the next thing: he's here and he needs me and I'm not going to let him down.
When he's gone, I think it'll be the first time in my life I can't name a single person who'll need me. I know he's not a person. You know what I mean. I'm someone who likes being needed. I like helping. I like doing things for the people I care about. I don't know what it looks like to live in a world where nobody's counting on me for anything. I'm not writing that to be dark. I don't know yet whether it's a loss or a kind of freedom, or both at once. I'll find out when I get there, and I'd rather get there late.
Until then: he's got a toy, I've got a glass of water, and we're both home. That's enough for now.