There is a point on the stairs that Daisy will not pass. She scampers up a step or two and then pushes her nose up against it. There’s nothing there, of course. She is just following the instruction to stay downstairs. It’s an example of some excellent dog training, which has, in all other respects, been fair to middling to poor. Sometimes, as I go up the stairs, I marvel at that space. I trace its contours with my hands; I peer into its corners and its secrets. How, I wonder, has it appeared there? Today, Daisy watched this with interest – from the bottom step. I’m sorry, I call back to her, for putting this object in your world! It’s not really your object at all! And, with that, Daisy leaps up the stairs and makes herself at home on my bed.