Dancing in her living room, Anita is singing to John Denver’s ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’. She’s wearing her office attire, though her heels and tights sit on the bookcase. Her dancing is slow and smooth, like a still river. “Miner’s lady, stranger to blue water. Dark and dusty, painted on the sky. Misty taste of moonshine. Teardrop in my eye”. Dog is wheeling himself back and forth the small living room of the flat as if to join in with the dancing. “Way to go Desperado, work those wheels! County Roads, take me home! To the place! I belong! West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads!” Dog barks along, keeping astonishingly good time. Anita spins around on the spot, Dog awkwardly follows performing a 6-point turn.
Below them is an elderly couple, listening to Anita and Dog singing. They feel warm and happy. They had been checking on Anita every other day since her boyfriend passed away six and a half months ago. They enjoyed the disruption to their day. It was nice to hear Anita laughing. Things have been good since she found ‘Desperado’.
Dog barks enthusiastically, and Anita laughs as the song ends. She runs to her record player in the corner of the room, I know who we need now. She removes the single from the record player and after a moment of searching through the singles on a shelf above the player and pulls out George Harrison’s ‘My Sweet Lord’. “Okay Desperado, slower tune now. You goanna slow walk with me?” Dog barks a positive response. “Groovy” she places the needle down. Anita slowly sways along to the song; Dog continues the same clunky manic dance of a retarded dog. “I really want to see you! Really want to be with you!” The two of them dance, sing, and bark to the dated joyous music.
Downstairs the elderly couple cuddle together. In each other’s arms, they softly sway to the music from upstairs. She kisses her wife upon the forehead, “Shall I go make us some tea?” her wife smiles, “Sounds lovely, should we still invite Anita down tonight?”
“No, no. We’ll leave her be tonight”.
After a few more songs, Dog becomes slow, and sits himself down. Anita walks over to the record player and pulls the needle away. “Okay, Desperado. Time for bed I think”.
Dog, pulls himself back up, and wheels himself out of the living room, Anita follows him out and they head to the bedroom.
The bedroom is a small dim room, featuring a bed, small desk (no chair), and a cupboard. At the foot of her bed is a small wicker basket lined with pillows and plushies. Dog pulls himself into the basket; Anita removes the wheels from his back legs and places them by the side of the basket. “Night, night Desperado”.