We used to go on runs all the time.  People would call me Old Yeller and kids would call me Marley, but we don’t go on runs anymore because of my paws and now I’m just called Cleo, but that’s not my real name either.

Cleo isn’t allowed to eat people-food.  Cleo isn’t allowed to sleep on the bed or sit on the couch.  There are a lot of things Cleo can’t do.  I used to eat people-food every day and when I’m alone I sleep on the couch.

But I am not always alone.

I like Walter better than Deborah.  Deborah tells Walter I’m a good doggy.  Walter tells me I’m a good doggy.  He used to take me on runs, but now Walter takes me on walks.  The runs would take a long time.  When you run, you run and you run and your nose drips cold and your fur brushes back with the wind and your tongue slides everywhere as your jaw slackens and you have to slow down or else Walter will pull you back because he gets tired too fast.  He doesn’t pant like me.  He puts his hands behind his head and wheezes and spits and then he checks his phone.  We both would pant a lot.   Sometimes my paws hurt just thinking about how much we used to run, but we only walk now and I am a good doggy.

But the walks are too short.  We used to run to the park but it’s so far away.  Walter could drive me to the park if he wanted to but he doesn’t.  Walter could carry me to the park if he really really wanted to but he never does.  We go on walks once a day because of my paws but we could do more if both of us wanted.  I could do ten walks and I could do them by myself without a collar and without Walter but they won’t let me.  All they do is shout NO CLEO when I leave scratch marks on the door.

I like sitting by the window and looking.  I like to see life in the people and birds and cats and dogs and trees.  I like the sun the most.  I like sleeping in it.  The sun reminds me of running and when I sleep in the sun I dream about running with Walter.  In my dreams Walter doesn’t pull me back because I don’t have a leash and Walter is faster than me and not wearing a shirt and I have to try extra hard to keep up and I always do and then I lead him and my paws never hurt.  I don’t talk to the other dogs.  I just look.  They will talk to me, sometimes.  They will shout and get pulled away from my window by their leash and I just look.  I look at the happy dogs the most.  One time I saw a happy dog in a red wagon that looked just like me.  His name must have been Old Yeller or Marley, but his fur was whiter than mine and he was riding in a red wagon and two little girls were pulling him down the sidewalk.  His ears plopped with every square of uneven pavement and his tongue drooped like his ears only longer.  When he saw me his tongue contracted.  His wagon slowed but never stopped.  Old Yeller looked at me and I just looked.  My butt was wiggling and my back paws were digging but I just looked and Marley watched until he was pulled out of sight.  Neither of us tried talking.  I like the sun the most but I don’t look at the sun.  Looking at some things hurts.

Walter and Deborah have strange ways of showing their love.  Deborah will make the best food I’ve ever smelt but she never eats with Walter.  Walter will spend all his time at work for Deborah but once he’s home he’s too tired to spend is him on Deborah.  They love each other.  If they didn’t they wouldn’t be married.  If they didn’t love each other Walter wouldn’t have adopted me.  I know this.  I am a smart doggy.

I like Walter better than Deborah.  When Deborah first saw me, she cried.  She got mad and threw stuff and called me Old Yeller.  When Walter first saw me he said sit and I sat and he said shake and I shook and he hugged me and I kissed him and he said that Cleo wasn’t a bad name.  I stayed close by Walter.  I didn’t know his name then but I knew Walter was a good guy and Walter knew that I was a good doggy.  We both knew, so I stayed close by Walter and Walter led me out.  I stayed by his side at all times and we walked past all the other dogs and cages and when we were just about free we were stopped by a woman and I didn’t want to go back so I tried to run and I smacked my head into a window.  It made a loud PANG sound and everyone laughed at me.  The woman made Walter sign papers.  She told Walter that I was very lucky to have been adopted today.  Walter took me to his car and I got to ride up front!

We drove past Gary’s house and I cried.

When Walter took me home he put a bow on my head and we walked inside and he said how much he loved Deborah and Deborah saw me and started crying.  Walter tried getting closer but this made Deborah mad.  She pushed him a way and then the both of them retreated into the living room and I was left in the kitchen just looking.  I looked at the table the counter-top the fridge.  It was much bigger than what I was used to.  I went into the loudest room and Deborah threw a T.V. remote at me and screamed she didn’t want an Old Yeller, she wanted a puppy.  She told Walter to get rid of me.  Walter told Deborah that I was really lucky to get adopted today.  Deborah said she didn’t care if I was asleep or not and then she started crying more and Walter held her and I left them to look around the house.

Their house doesn’t have any pictures on the walls.  I don’t like that.  If they had pictures I wouldn’t look at them but Walter and Deborah don’t have any pictures… and that’s not fair.  Their house is really big, too.  With no pictures to fill the walls or kids to fill the extra bedrooms, it always seems so empty.  I used to try to talk to them, to cheer them up, but they don’t like it when I talk and they never command me to sing.  I don’t know why.  Singing is good for you and it always makes me happy but they don’t like it when I talk―especially Deborah―and they never command me to sing and I don’t know why.  It doesn’t make any sense.

I’m the only one who goes upstairs.  There are two bedrooms up there and not much else.  The bedroom closest to the backyard has a big window.  Big like Walter.  I can’t peek out of it but the sun comes in and it covers me in its warm love.  Birds will sometimes perch on the window and when I sleep in that empty room I dream of running with birds soaring above my head.  I sing in my dreams with the birds and the birds sing back.  The other bedroom has a window, too, but it’s puppy-sized and covered in black curtains.  That room is cold.  I know I belong there when I’m a bad doggy.

The only real time Walter and Deborah talk is when they watch T.V. together.  They don’t watch the T.V. but they say they are and then they both talk the whole time and almost always one person will start to yell and then I’ll go away to that cold bedroom upstairs.  Walter and Deborah love each other but they argue and they argue because of me.  Deborah doesn’t like me because I’m old.  She still calls me Old Yeller when she’s mad and she’s mad whenever I can’t hold it in and go pee-diddle on the kitchen floor.  I tried really hard not to at first but whenever I have to go no one is there to open the door for me and I have to go all the time it seems.  I don’t like being a bad doggy… I don’t like being old…

I wish I was still a puppy.

Walter will come home with a dog treat and I will always be surprised when this happens.  He’ll say sit and I’ll sit and he’ll say shake and I’ll shake and that was it for a long while.  He eventually got bored of the basics and started fumbling around with commands he had no business using without years of practice but they worked anyways.  Deborah got really mad when Walter showed me off.  She said that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks and that Walter couldn’t whisper to dogs but then Walter said stand and I stood on my back two legs and he said dance and I pirouetted in a circle and he said play dead and I wobbled my front legs as I collapsed to the floor and closed my eyes.  Deborah didn’t say anything.  Walter said shake and I shook and Walter said high five and we clapped and Walter said I was a good girl and I was a good girl, but then we stopped.  It came much too soon and he never told me to sing.  Not once.

One night when Walter was gone and it was dark outside and it was dark inside and Deborah was sitting on the couch, she began making noises I’ve never heard a human make.  She snarled, screeched, howled up at the moon.  I sat in front of her and placed my paw on her legs.  She stared at me and kept crying.  Neither of us made another sound all night.

Deborah talked to Walter after that night and they talked in other places than in front of the T.V.  One time after a super big run, Walter filled my water bowl only half way and I drank it all and I needed more.  Walter and Deborah were inside but they weren’t in their usual places.  I searched and gave up and stood on my back paws and turned the water on myself.  It was as easy as I remembered it and I made sure to turn it off when I was done.  I sat on the couch and began drifting until I heard a gentle thud from upstairs.  I flew off the couch and made sure no one saw me sitting there.  After I heard the noise again I crept up cautiously.  I wondered what the two would be doing up there in that warm room with the big window but once I peeked my head in and found out I wondered if there was anything else two lovers could do in any empty room.

Walter came back from work with more treats and Deborah stopped yelling.  Deborah said she wanted a baby and started crying.  Walter said they could get a puppy this time.  Deborah only cried harder.

For the first time in my life, Walter was beating me at runs.  I knew why but Walter didn’t notice until after a run when I began licking the paw I had tried my best not to walk on.  Walter said a strange word: arthritis.  I thought he was shaming me but then Deborah said arthritis too and I knew they weren’t talking to me; they were talking to my paws.  We stopped running after that.  I tried extra hard to fall asleep in the sun from that point on.

The more I just looked the worse my dog food tasted.  I was a good doggy and Walter noticed first when I stopped eating my food.  Deborah said I was fine.  I began eating again but it always came back up.  I felt worse when the food came up than when I went pee-diddle.  It always smelt horrid and Deborah would groan and clean it up without saying bad doggy.  Walter wanted to take me to the vet but he never did.  My dreams were longer than ever.  I ran.  Sometimes I flew.  Deborah went to pet me when I woke up from one of these dreams and a clump of my fur fell into her hand.  Deborah wanted to take me to the vet so Walter and Deborah took me to the vet.

It was scary but I was brave.  The woman was very gentle.  She put on gloves and rubbed my belly.  I was a good doggy.  She told Walter and Deborah that I had something called cancer inside of my belly. This made Walter and Deborah very sad.  They hugged me and talked to the woman and said we would come back in three days.  I didn’t ever want to go back but I was a good doggy.

After Walter went to work, I went to my window and looked.  I saw a group of dogs running with a man and I whimpered and Deborah cradled my head against her waist as she sat next to me.  She asked if I wanted to go to the park.  I looked at her emotionless and blank and Deborah asked if I wanted to go to the park.  I barked at her and she didn’t get mad.  We walked outside and Deborah guided me to her car and I got to ride in the front!

We rode and the sun followed us.  We didn’t go to the park.  We went to a people-food place and I sat and watched cars pass us by while Deborah ordered herself people-food.  We drove around the building to a window and Deborah grabbed her bag of people-food and all at once I knew what was in the bag because of the smell and I thought of Gary and wished for nothing more than to be with Gary and I love Gary so much.  I like Gary better than Walter.  Gary always fed me people-food.  Gary always let me sleep with him.  I never pee-diddled because I had my own doggy-door.  Gary taught me how to sit how to stay how to dance how to sing.  I grew old with Gary and Gary grew his oldest with me and I miss Gary more than anything in the world.  I want to sing I want to run I want to be with Gary again.  I hope it will happen.  It won’t happen.  I hope it will happen.  It won’t happen.  Gary used to put on his record player.  He’d whistle and I’d howl and I’d stand and we’d hold paws and dance and if I wanted to go on a run Gary would let me outside without a leash and I’d always come back because I’m a good girl.  I’m a good doggy not a bad doggy and my name is Gypsy.  My name is not Cleo.  I am a good girl and my name is Gypsy.

I buried my muzzle under my paws and began wheezing.  I looked up and saw Deborah.  She pulled a cheeseburger from her bag of people-food and unwrapped it slowly, just like Gary, and she asked me if I wanted some, just like Gary.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  I sniffed the air weakly and Deborah placed the cheeseburger by my face on the seat.  I stared at her.  She told me I was a good girl.

Deborah didn’t eat her people-food.  She left it in her bag and drove to the park.  I wasn’t done eating when we got there, so she turned on the radio.  I heard a sad man and he cried halleluiah, and I howled back.  Deborah bit her lip and asked if I liked to sing.  I sang the whole song.

If I could do anything different, I wouldn’t.  I only wonder why it took so long for her to ask me to sing.  All she had to do was say sing me a song and I would have howled her a hallelujah.

– Ross Ray

Author’s Note: This is a story written from spite. Most fiction I write comes from a perversely dark and honest place that most people avoid. This story is not dark. This story is not perverse. This story is nothing more than a simple slice-of-life tale about a dog. I wrote this as an exercise to test myself. I cherish the final result, but it has only narrowed my views on fiction in that people will only read what is within their comfort bubble.