True Love

You looked out the window and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. You had hoped for a perfectly sunny day to complement your perfectly planned surprise, but instead it turned unexpectedly cloudy by the time we boarded the train. Yet even this could not dampen your mood. Settling comfortably into the worn cushion seat, you opened up the top of your bag to give me a little more air. “Look, a dog,” a little girl whispered to her mother when I lifted my snout to explore my surroundings. You noticed this and quickly lowered my head with one hand. Animals were not allowed on the trains, but you could not bear to part with me. Fortunately the little girl’s mother had her attention on the phone, and barely glanced up before saying, “That’s nice, darling.” 

We arrived without further incidents and you relaxed noticeably when we got off the train. The thought of seeing him lightened your footsteps and you just about skipped down the stairway at the platform. Pulling out your phone to check the maps again you kissed me quickly on the head. “We’re going to see him soon, aren’t you excited?” You asked, grinning widely. Affected by your enthusiasm, I wagged my tail furiously in the limited space of the bag and squirmed around, causing you to laugh. I loved your laugh. You lifted me out of the bag and set me on the floor with one hand, putting on my leash with the other. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go find daddy.” 

The walk up to the university was exciting. There were lots to see and lots to sniff. But you pushed on ahead faster than I would have liked. That’s okay. I know you were eager to see him. I know how the thought of him consumed your mind, like how a beef bone consumes mine. But then you froze all of a sudden and I looked up and followed your gaze and saw him, turning the corner at the street up ahead, his arm around another woman. He stopped to wrap her coat tighter around her, and she, looking sweetly up at him, raised up on her tiptoes to give him a gentle peck on the lips. 

What a pretty picture they made.

You took one step forward. Two steps. You wanted to confront him. Confront them. But then you turned and fled, right before he could catch sight of you.  

You returned home in a daze. Out of the window of the train you watched as this nice suburban college town with the colorful houses and the flowers lining the sidewalks gave way to cracked paint and graffiti and gray pavement. You trudged home and I, sensing your despair, weaved myself around your ankles. He was never worth your time anyways, I tried to tell you. You could never trust anyone who smelled like he did, like artificial flowers. You did not hear me, and the result was that you sat on your sofa long after the day had turned dark, and neither of us had dinner that night. 

You went out early the next morning. I begged to go out with you, but you shut the front door firmly in my face. I curled up next to the door to await your return. I was hungry, and I wanted to conserve my energy. The next thing I knew there came the smell of beef bones and before you opened the door I was already up and scratching the floor in excitement. You came in and laughed at my eagerness. “Sorry kiddo,” you said as you bent down to give me the treat I had been waiting for all day. “You must be hungry. But don’t worry. We will get daddy back soon.” 

Without looking up I sniffed in disapproval. I had already told you, he was not worth your time. You two came from such different worlds, what did you expect? But you never listened. What was yours, you felt, should remain yours. 

So I merely watched silently the next day as you got ready for the evening. You put on your prettiest (only) dress and sat in front of the mirror for an hour drawing on your face. “How do I look?” You turned to me, your excitement barely contained. I turned away reproachfully. You took no notice, and looked back to the mirror, humming. Then the doorbell rang, which came as no surprise to me, because I could smell his stench from a mile away. You snatched your purse and waltzed out the door, leaving no dinner again. But I knew what to expect. I waited, patiently.

When you stumbled in the door with him leaning on your shoulder you were both laughing. It had been a good night, from what I gathered. As you passed by me you leaned down to scratch me between the ears, and he did too, although he would have normally shied away for fear of dirtying his hands. You both fell onto the sofa. I saw you whispered into his ears. 

His eyes could still barely focus, but his face turned pale instantly. He looked at you, dazed, and you looked back at him, accusingly, hopefully. 

Then the crying and screaming began. 

You begged him to stay. You said you will forgive him, if he would only return to you. He, in his state of intoxication, shook his head bewilderingly and tried to get off the sofa, only to fall back down again. It was a lot of drama, but by the time he started yelling at you and trying to shove you off of him I was so hungry I could barely pay attention. I wished you would end this soon. And finally it did. 

You stood in front of me, a plate of bloody red meat in your hand. I pounced upon the food greedily and gobbled it down, although it tasted like artificial flowers. “Sorry kiddo,” you said softly, as you bent down to stroke me gently. “But I had to get daddy back, you see? He belongs with us.”