The Dog
by Catherine Carlos
The dog barked happily as her mother had come home from shopping. She was just a puppy. She had jumped up and down as she clawed on her mother’s leg; she wanted attention. “Has your father not come home yet?” Her mother asked, a little annoyed. The dog tilted her head. No, her father hadn’t arrived home yet. The mother gently shook the dog off her leg, walking to the kitchen. The dog followed, attached to the mother. “Go away,” her mother said, her back facing away from the dog. The dog whimpered, slowly walking towards her mother. Once near her feet, she gently clawed at her mother’s leg with her paw. “I SAID GO AWAY,” her mother screamed, sharply turning to face the dog, water trails evident on her face, her eyes glossy and watery, red and puffy. The dog whimpers in fear, backing away from her mother. Her mother, noticing the dog’s reaction, tries to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Her mother pleaded with her as she tried to pick her up but the dog ran off, hiding in the closet. The dog whimpered as she laid down on the clothes, tears falling from the puppy’s eyes. A little while later, her mother comes to the closet door, with the dog’s food. Her mother sits down next to the closet door, placing the food in front of the door. There was dead silence for a minute before her mother spoke up. “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. Please come out. I’ve made your favorite.” She apologized; it sounded genuine. But was it really true? It was a lie told over and over again. Another minute of silence. Her mother scoffed in annoyance, getting up. “Fine. Starve for all I care,” she hissed with bitterness in her voice. The puppy’s eyes watered as it remained in the closet, hearing the sound of her mother weeping in the living room. “I’m sorry mama,” the dog thought. “I don’t want to see you sad.” The dog carefully left the closet, sniffing its food and then it took a small bite. As the dog ate, tears flowed from the puppy’s eyes. The dog stopped eating for a minute when she heard the sound of keys jingling in the distance. “Papa!” the dog thought, barking excitedly as her tail wagged. She stopped eating, rushing past the living room and to the front door. But something felt different. Or was it the same? The jingle of the keys seemed to be long and slow, almost as if they were struggling to even open the door in the first place. When they finally opened the door, it was a quick swing, almost flying off its hinges as her father clung onto the doorknob for support. The dog, weary of her father, took a step towards her papa. “Papa, are you okay?” The dog barked. Her barks caught the attention of her father who let go of the doorknob, letting the door shut on its own. He crouched down to the dog’s level, unable to keep his balance. “Hi, my beautiful girl,” he slurred, his speech completely off as he reeked of alcohol, the scent clinging onto him like a second skin. The dog tried backing up two steps but was forced into a hug. The dog whined a little, uncomfortable as it was. She wasn’t even sure of why her father was acting this way. Why did he always act this way when he came home from work?
“Get off her, she doesn’t want to hug you”, her mother spoke up. “Can I not hug my daughter?” her father garbled, clinging onto the dog even tighter. The dog whimpered in fear now; it felt like she was being crushed. “She doesn’t want a hug. Let her go,” her mother hissed as she repeated herself again. Her father pulls away, giving the dog the air needed. Before her father could get a word out, the dog ran off, hiding behind her mother, tall between her legs. “Diana. Room. Now.” Her mother spoke with authority, something she didn’t have over her husband. The dog whined, gently clawing at her mother’s leg as she asked ‘Why?’ “Room. Now.” She repeated, raising her voice slightly. The dog whimpered as she went to her parents’ room, laying on her bed next to their bed. The dog looked at the floor, zoned out as tears began to stream down their face. “You’ve been hooking up with other women! At this point, just don’t even come home if you’re going to be sleeping with another woman!” The dog heard her mother scream at her father, the dog tilted her head, unsure of what her mother was talking about. Then again—she was just a puppy.
***
The dog grew from a puppy to a teen. With time, the dog figured out what the fights were about. The dog grew cold and distant as time passed by, growing more independent. She wasn’t as attached to her mother nor father that she once was as a puppy. The dog slowly opens her eyes, sleeping on her bed. She let out a yawn as she. extended her front legs forward, her chest near the bed as her rear end was raised, a greeting stretch. She got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. She had gotten so used to the fight and the yelling that she never realized that it had stopped a few years back. She stopped at her food bowl, seeing that it was empty. The dog walked to the cabinet, one with a rag on the handle, she bit onto the old rag and yanked on it, opening the cabinet. “Morning Sweetheart,” a tired but cheerful voice spoke. The dog pulled her head out of the cabinet and saw her father. Her father grabbed her bowl and walked towards the cabinet; he poured her food into the bowl and placed it back down for her. “Here ya go,” he spoke with a smile. The dog looked up at him, huffed and began to eat the food. She wasn’t one to really ask for help from her parents, but this was one of the few times she would allow it. He sighed, defeated as he walked to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself and his wife, which was the dog’s mother.
Everything has changed over the years from when she used to be a puppy, the dog didn’t notice how the scent of alcohol reduces year by year, how her parents stopped arguing and how they’ve begun to love each other, or how they tried to give the dog the attention she needed when she was a pup. The dog never noticed her eyes and her heart was blinded with such hate, such resentment for her parents that it was so hard to tell that they were genuinely trying to change for the better and for her. The dog still did care for her parents but refused to show it.
The mother came out of the bedroom that she shared with her husband, the dog’s father. She walked to the kitchen and kissed his cheek. “Morning, what are you making?” she asked with a smile on her face, taking in the scent of the bacon and french toast. “Just breakfast,” the father replied, greeting his wife with a kiss. The dog noticed this and her nose scrunched up in disgust; it always disgusted her as she wasn’t so used to it. “Morning hun, how’d you sleep,” the mother spoke, looking down at her dog that had just finished eating breakfast. The dog just huffed slightly and walked off, not really interested in spending time with her parents. Her mother and father looked at each other, a little hurt but they didn’t say much as they assumed it was just her growing up. Even though they knew it was far from the truth. The dog walked to the back door and went into the backyard. It was a weekend, something she disliked as the dog was forced to be around her parents and tolerate them, so her reason for her not to be around them was to spend her time in the backyard doing what not, just something to keep her busy. The backyard was her little escape, her safe space.
***
It was nighttime when the dog was sitting on the porch stairs of the house, gazing up at the stars. The only sound that could be heard was the chirp of the crickets that hid in the grass. Her ears perked up as she heard what sounded like the door to the backyard being opened. She turned her head to the door, only to be greeted by the sight of her father. She huffed and turned to look back at the stars. “Hey sweetheart,” he spoke softly, walking slowly to her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Her father spoke. The dog was a little annoyed, she didn’t want him to talk to her but either way she let out a groan. Her father sat next to her, looking up at the stars. The silence was long, and loud.
It was awkward. Her father took a moment, moving her eyes from the stars to the grass, taking a deep breath in and clearing his throat. “I wanna talk to you about how you’ve been acting lately. I wanna know the reason why.” He spoke. That ticked the dog off. How dare he ask why she was acting like this when they were the reason for her turning out the way she was. The dog growled slightly as she was going to get up. “Wait, don’t go. Just be honest. Was it because of me?” He asked. It sounded genuine. The dog thought for a moment, sitting back down, before looking at him. The look in the dog’s eyes, it wasn’t hard to guess what her answer was. Her father frowned, looking away. “I see.” He spoke quietly.
Another moment of awkward silence. The way her father sat so close to the dog made her feel uncomfortable. Her father cleared his throat again. “I’m just—” He paused for a moment, unsure on how to even begin with his apology. The dog already knew it was going to be some lame excuse of an apology. “I’m just sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.” He spoke, looking down at the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just stressed, work had messed me up, I was just stressed. I know drinking wasn’t the best choice to go with when it came to relieving stress. I was just—” He paused again, looking at the dog. The dog looked annoyed but it seemed to get to her. “—I was young and stupid. I should have known how it was going to affect you; you were young. You didn’t need to see that; you didn’t deserve the treatment you’ve received. You were forced to grow up so fast, I’m sorry for that. I ‘ve noticed how you’d look at me after getting drunk. You never liked it but that never stopped me. Now I see that it should have.”
The dog sat there in silence, taking in his words. She just stared off into the distance, her eyes watering. “Please forgive me. I’m trying to stop myself from recreating my past mistakes.” He spoke, placing his hand on her back. She felt his hand and she shuddered. She didn’t want to believe him. He had lied to her so many times. Why would this be any different? Her father noticed the tears that streamed down her face but the dog didn’t seem to notice. Her father carefully comes closer to the dog, embracing her in a hug. The dog tries to pull away from her father, her emotions all over the place. But she stops for a second and just gives in. She starts whining, the tears flowing freely now. “Forgive me my sweet girl, I’ve never meant to hurt you. Just forgive me, let me prove to you that I’m trying to stop for you.”
The dog and her dad just sat under the stars, in each other’s embrace. She had always come back to them, no matter how bad or how good they treated her. No matter if she didn’t even care anymore. It wasn’t a choice, it never was. It was always an obligation for her to come back. The dog still cared for them; she loved them dearly. She shouldn’t though. It felt like an obligation but it wasn’t. She will always come back to them. She had to come back to them. She had to forgive them. She just had to trust them on what they say to her.
Because she was just dumb dog.