Ricochet

Moves

Tom had arrived at his home earlier today to witness a scene of devastation. Without context, it would look like the oceans manifested a low-pressure zone just to wreck him. The garden that he had spent so much time setting up, had burrows dug all over. The painstakingly trimmed plants that he wouldn't even allow his girlfriend to tend to, were uprooted from the ground. Inside the house was the same sore sight. He had lost count of the expenses that they had to bear for renovating and mending things by the month. The interior decorators were happy to get paid handsomely for doing the same job over and over again. As an employment guarantee in uncertain times, some were so thankful as to offer a discount to them.

A real tornado would be devastating for sure. It might last a week or two – a bit longer if worse. But they had been victimized by this walking and incessantly barking tornado for years. The terrier, Jack, was a gift they had brought for themselves when they moved in together. It was all fun and games in the beginning, not to mention cute. The puppy consumed all of their time and they were more than happy to give him their all.

Jack had a healthy diet that they thought was better than what they got as kids, was taken to the vets promptly, groomed with an above average budget. Jack was their king until the rule became more literal than figurative. Often, tyrannical. It was a problem of love. Jack developed separation anxiety. Whenever Tom wasn't there, Jack ripped the whole place to shreds... couch, stolen food... pee on the floor... you name it.

Jack's digging instinct was the bigger problem. If the economic wreckage wasn't enough, this had started to wreck him emotionally as well. Jack had grown possessive of him by the day, refusing to eat without him at times, and his guarding tendencies locked out his girlfriend from their room. They had fought over Jack many times to the point that she suggested that that she would move out if Jack wasn't given away.

They had recently brought in an expert dog trainer who had suggested that the girlfriend take charge of Jack's food so that her status in the herd would rise. The trainer emphasized the need for positive enforcement while training Jack by using clickers and treats. It was suggested to get a sand-pit for Jack to better exhibit his instincts. They were taught to issue basic commands to Jack. It was all going well and the trainer was to return to evaluate their progress. It had all turned into dog poop the past week.

When Tom met his girlfriend today, it was not as cordial as he hoped. She stressed that she was doing her best on training Jack and he was slacking away on a trip. He was asked to prioritize them over his work once in a while and she was running out of patience. He had assured her that the things will be better and he would make a concerted effort. He said that he needed rest as he was tired. It was only then she relented. 

Tom made sure Jack stayed behind the doggy gate, the stop-gap solution for some privacy. He didn't have it in him to deal with Jack, on top of everything he already was.

Tom shielded his eyes with his hands from the light through the window. The ivory white of the room appeared a tad bit brighter to him than it used to be. He even missed the mundane conversations he had with his girlfriend. He couldn't bring himself to face her and that had nothing to do with the secret he was keeping. The difference a week could make. He needed a break. The sleeping pills he had bought from the medical store on the way was just going to be the start. A vacation would help as well.

He had known and experienced that after staying in the dark for some time, the pupils adjust and things appear a bit clearer. But he couldn't have predicted that he would have to rely on this for a week straight. After a day, he could manage to walk without bumping into the dining table chairs or the bedpost.

Tom saw the light three times a day just when food and water was delivered in his room through a vent in the door. The food wasn't bad but the whole arrangement was something he was sure that Jack would find revolting. He liked walking, even to his detriment. He played sports. The fact that his movements were restricted had sunken his mood. He felt like he aged a decade each moment. He was removed from reality itself. Loneliness did not affect him much, though it could've if this ordeal lasted much longer. As he consumed the sleeping pills, he ran his hands around the neck. It still stung.