HOUND

xxxv

It is a lazy Sunday morning. Jack no longer observes his usual habit of coffee and the Sunday paper. He no longer fills in the crossword puzzle, calling out to his wife to ask what number 9 down is. Instead, Jack has a new daily routine of drinking himself awake. But this morning, something was different.

Jack had broken the daily habit of making love with alcohol in the early hours so he could go through the rest of the day in a 'liberated' state. But this morning, something was definitely different.

His wife paid no attention to this difference. She hardly noticed Jack anymore--and he hardly noticed her. Part of it was a coping mechanism, to put each other out of their minds and ignore the issue of their failure. Besides, their spirits were both totally occupied with opposite events. It was strange, being in that house. It was as if they operated on different time lines--or in parallel realms. They existed in the same place, but somehow seemed to be two ghosts from two different eras trapped in the same house. Never brushing against each other or acknowledging each other or anything to fancy that some other human being was within twenty feet at all times.

"I want a dog."  Jack says suddenly. His wife jumps, her body tensing. She had forgotten he was even there. Perhaps it was because she was so used to him being somewhere else, with someone else.

"A what?" She says, blinking.

"I want a dog." He repeats.

"A dog?" She sighs. "You know I have allergies."

"I want a dog, darling." Jack insists.

"What for? You've never wanted one before. Besides, you can barely care for yourself, much less an animal."

Jack shakes his head. Does he even ask for much, he wonders? He doesn't make her cook for him or clean for him. They live together, but that is all. He never asks her to do anything, yet she's always asking for things like attention and love. All he wants, is a dog. "No, I want a dog."

"Jack--"

"A dog, dear. I don't care if it's a great mastif or a tiny ratdog. I just want something canine."

"Jack, listen--"

"What about a lab? Or even a Shitzu? I'm not really about getting anything I'd have to shave. Or brush. Short-haired then. Schnauzer?"

"Oh god, Jack!" She is exasperated. Mumbling, she says under her breath: "Why would you want another bitch?"

But Jack hears her anyway.

"Sweetie," The terms of endearment are laced with condescending snarkiness. "Come on. All I said was that I wanted a dog. Don't give yourself a hernia, please."

"I don't want a dog here! I'm allergic, you know that. I swear I hate you sometimes."

"Oh, quit being a drama queen. I just don't want to be so lonely around the house. I need a friend here."

"And your wife can't be that?"

"Obviously not, as you've shown."

"I swear, Jack, I swear to--"

"You know what?"

"--if you really think that you can just go and do something without my consent I--"

"I'm going to go get a dog."

"--it's appalling, your complete lack of respect for me and for--"

"I'm going to get a dog today." He smiles. For the first time in a long time, he feels something close to happiness. Is this contentment? Perhaps it's total apathy. Maybe they're the same thing.

"--I wish we could go back and--"

"And you're not going to stop me." He stands, straightening his pants. Almost like he's trying to look presentable, but sweatpants and old, wrinkled tshirts don't really help.

"--you've changed, you're inhuman these days! I just--"

Walking to the door, he turns the knob and cracks the door open. The warm spring air drifts in, and he can hear the birds. Turning back, he says, "I'll call you when I pick one out. I suppose you don't have a preference for a breed."

"Wait, where do you think you're going?" Her squeal is high and incessant. Jack laughs to himself, thinking of how his bird changed to be a pig.

"Bye, honey, I'll pick up kibble as well."
And with that, he is bounding down the sidewalk, running to the nearest animal shelter.