Through His Eyes Glistening things decorate our home: strips of shiny foil drape the mantelpiece, flashing lights line the roof, and my favourites dangle on the fake tree. The smell of a large bird cooking floats into my nostrils. It’s being over-prepared by my person, Sarah. Jingling sounds from the music box cause my ears to flutter. Sarah asks if I ‘like this one, Buddy?’ as she dances around. But it muffles exterior noises, impairing my audible guard of the house. Sarah has forgotten about park time today. Park time is for off-leash bounding and investigating marks left by furry tree residents that smell better than old socks. Each visit, I’d greet fellow park visitors, especially spaghetti-eater Patches, the white Maltese. There’d often be something tasty stuck around his orange-stained mouth. I loved listening to Sarah when she wasn’t tapping on her device. I’d pant up to her as she sat on the park bench, telling me about her goals and worries. Her tone of voice and the rhythm of her hands on my fur would change with each subject, allowing me to understand her meaning when I didn’t recognise all of her words. But today, even though I’m sure it’s still a weekday, Sarah has stayed home. Without her attention, I head to the backyard and complete my typical duties. After checking the fence for trespassing crows, I lie belly up to collect the morning sun. It must be a special day; I hear Sarah’s device inside emitting noises like trapped birds. She picks the device up and chirps into it, ‘Hey, Amanda.’ It warbles back.
8
Laura Clark My body wriggles, and I seize the new, soft, fake dog that Sarah gave me this morning. I’d quickly obliterated its odd paper wrapping and made it nice and damp with leisurely chewing over the course of the morning. I lift it between my teeth again now as I make my way inside. It pushes my lips up so guests will think they can snatch it. ‘Hello, darling,’ Amanda coos as she enters. Her slim face behind thick frames descends. She’s wearing an odd, red hat with a white ball on the end. Her hands are wonderfully friendly, and I topple a little. As all the guests arrive, they chatter like the chickens next door, but Sarah’s distracted. ‘He’ll be here soon, you’ll love him,’ she tells Amanda. A smile covers Sarah’s face as one more visitor creeps in.
***
A disagreeable scent overwhelms me as his tall knees pass. He hands her a long bottle as he greets her with a brief touch of his lips to hers, and murmurs something into her head fur. Sarah looks like she’s filled with fresh air. My wagging tail interrupts them, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Guests finally begin eating the large, carved bird while I hold my backside to the floor like a good boy. My nose stays on that bird, but out of the corner of my eye, I notice Amanda tipping on her chair towards the new man. I wonder why attention is not on me or on feasting. The room laughs continuously with the new man they call Mike. ***
She smiles. ‘All ready. I can’t wait for you to meet him.’
Mike is the last visitor at the gathering. He changes the music and lights a flame. ‘Rose fragrance,’ he grins.
I roll over outside, grass cushioning my belly and tickling my paws. I give them a lick, tasting a dirt mix.
The smell is fake.
The bell from the front door bounces around the house.
‘Sit, boy,’ he tells me. I won’t.
