Pancho Carancho Is Not Literally a Cloud...Or Is He?

Pancho Carancho is not literally a cloud... He's literally a dog, Pablo's dog, Pablo's baby, or he was, once, a literal baby, puppy, freshly fallen from the fruit tree where such balls of fluff come—or wait, this last detail is figurative, I think...Pancho is 15 now—in human years that is...but what is this "15" if not also a metaphor of some kind? What are abstractions like numbers to a dog, anyways? Time is a slippery thing we hypothesize about at best, borrow and steal travelling, orienting terms for to cast ourselves in some direction, some relation to this absurd light and sound show, but again I ask, what is any of this human nonsense to a dog? A dog is right here and right now, a dog is real no matter what you call him and knows what he wants, a dog is the pure love panting and eye contact headcock that says, "I know what you're about, sir. I know that you've got treats for me in one palm and scratches for my belly in another palm, and I expect my due. You scratch my head and I lick your face—this is how it works pops, because you love me and I love you and we're a team and that's it!" And you can jumble and jangle the words in your mouth like keys after that, but Pancho Carancho the cloud's got your card and your number, and that, as they say, is that!