Bay's Wish [ONC 2024]

02 - The Puppy

7 days postmortem

Dog Heaven was everything. Between the sprawling fields, the endless bones, and a rejuvenated body that let me run as fast as a rabbit again, it should have been everything I've ever dreamt of, but I could not enjoy it. Not while Bay hurt as much as she did.

Every day, I went to the television building—or as Geronimo called it, the Earth Observatory—and watched Bay's life without me unfold. Days passed. Then weeks. She slowly began to resemble the Bay I recognized, but she was never quite the same.

Dog Heaven days aligned with Earth days. So when Bay was awake, I was awake. When she slept, I slept. Or at least I tried to. Sometimes I dozed off in front of the television. On a rare occasion, I managed to pull myself away and find a comfy bed to nest in, but the restless naps never lasted long.

The Earth Observatory floor was like laying on the biggest, softest bed at the pet store. Every morning around the time Bay's ear-piercing alarm went off, I curled up with a bone as I gnawed and waited for her to wake up. Some days, though, she slept nearly the whole morning. It had never occurred to me that she could snooze past our usual morning walk time.

One particular morning, Bay stayed in bed well past lunchtime to watch movies by herself. Then dinnertime came and she still had not moved from beneath the covers. The only signs of life came from when she rustled to get more comfortable or sobbed at the movies on her computer.

I licked my nose as if I could lick away the water from her face. I so desperately wished I could. Just like the other dogs who watched their humans, I was powerless.

Eventually, Bay switched from her computer screen to her phone. Her loud movie-watching finally ceased but water still quietly slid down her cheeks. Lifting my head for a better view, I realized she was looking at pictures of me.

A whine escaped me and my ears pulled back. No matter what Bay did, she was upset, and there was nothing I could do about it. Even though I promised to ease the pain of losing me, I was doing a terrible job at it. Judging by how much time she spent alone, I was failing. Simply watching her would not cut it. I had to do something.

As my tail slid across the floor in thought, something caught it mid-movement. I jumped back and faced my assailant, a growl emanating from my throat. If those infernal squirrels infiltrated Dog Heaven...

A black-and-white-furred puppy pounced at my paws. I skittered backward but it leaped at me again.

"Go away," I barked, but the puppy persisted, this time aiming towards the tail stuck between my legs. Its clumsy body bounced and scampered between my four paws, weaving in and out between my legs in pursuit of my tail.

A groan escaped my throat. I could not stand puppies.

"Get out of here, kid," I warned cautiously. Puppies had no sense of personal space. They viewed everything as a toy, even something as sacred as another dog's tail. Worst of all, they barely understood how to interact with other dogs. There was only one way to get the puppy to listen.

As the kid pranced around me, yapping its shrill voice that wouldn't scare a butterfly, my eyes tracked it until I found an opening.

When the puppy zoomed far enough out from under me, I snapped my jaw at it with a bark. Not nearly close enough to catch its fur, but just so it would get the hint and stop bothering me. It was a drastic choice, but puppies sometimes needed to be set straight. Especially when they refused to listen.

Puppies were overly sensitive creatures, and this one was stupid enough to take my advance personally. It yipped and whimpered as it skittered away from me, hiding in plain sight in the middle of the Earth Observatory. Its tail curled under its legs and it stared up at me with annoyingly wide eyes.