I heard him come through the back door but I was too comfortable to move. His boots clumped down the narrow hallway, until the stained carpet on the living room floor silenced them. He stopped. I could smell the cold air clinging to the winter jacket he was wearing.
"Hey." he said, with an expectant tone.
I looked up and gave a halfhearted stretch in his direction. I opened my mouth and faked a yawn, my tongue curling with emphasis.
"What, did I wake you up? he asked. "Must be nice. Some watch dog you turned out to be."
I dropped my head back down on my paws and watched him cross the small room in two strides. He paused at the bookcase where Jane's picture was, leaning against an over-sized and tattered, hardcover book.
I remembered that book from when I was a pup.
I loved chewing on it then. Sure I got scolded, but it was worth it. I think I got my paws on it at least three times while she was reading about how to build a chicken coop. Of course, I would try to muster restraint whenever she left it on the coffee table; the book smelled so good though, like her hands, and the soil, and campfire wood. I couldn’t help myself from gnawing on the corners a little.
I remember her laughing when I kissed her. She could never stay mad. She was so beautiful with that long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and those aging lines that formed around her eyes and mouth when she smiled. There was a light that leapt from my heart whenever she was near me.
He cleared his throat, took off his jacket and threw it on the stuffed chair. He straightened Jane's picture and I could see where his thumb cleared off some of the dust from the glass. I wished that he would clean it completely, so I could see her again.
He walked back to the kitchen and I could hear him struggling to take off his work boots. "Hey" he said, "You hungry?"
Yes, I was hungry. I was always hungry, but thinking about Jane made me feel heavy inside, and I didn't want to move. I heard him dump a cup of cheap, dry food in my dish, then move on to fix his own supper.
I laid there and stared up at the shelf that held the dusty frame. He came back into the living room with his own plate of food. I didn't bother begging, there was no kindness in his eyes. He used to get angry at Jane, for sneaking me tidbits from her plate. He never understood how much those little treats meant to me, or to her.
Sometimes when he wasn't looking, she would put one finger in front of her mouth and softly say "Shhh" and sneak me something from her plate that was so delicious, it must have dropped right out of heaven. It was hard to “Shhh” like she wanted though, and little grunts of pleasure and gratitude would always escape while I watched her face try not to smile.
"What, you're not hungry?" he asked, as he put his feet up on the coffee table and turned the on TV. I lifted my head and licked my lips, like I normally did when I heard the word hungry. "Well, go eat then." he said.
I got up off the couch and went to my bowl. I missed the suppers that Jane made for me. She always bought the best dry food and mixed it with something she knew I liked - greens, or leftover sandwich meat, or peanut butter. She would put my bowl up on the counter and hum around the kitchen while she prepared my meal, like someone special was coming for dinner.
Sometimes he would come into the kitchen and put his arms around her waist and tease her, saying things like "I think you love that dog more than me." and she would laugh and kiss him, then turn and wink at me.
I wandered back to the living room and saw that his plate of food was untouched. The news was on but the sound was off. He was sitting up in the stuffed chair, with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. I could see his shoulders shaking, but he wasn't making any noise.
Curious, I got closer. The smell of his dirty jeans drew me in and I couldn't help but sniff his knee. He looked up at me and I jumped backward. I could see his face was wet with tears. The only other time I had seen him like that, was the night Jane stopped coming home.
I have a hard time remembering how long ago it was. Many dinners. Many, many dinners ago. He had been on the phone talking, then yelling, then making sounds I had never heard coming from a human before.
He had left me outside for too long that night, but I can't remember why. I think he forgot I was out there. It had snowed enough to cover my tracks and I was starting to get cold. Eventually, he heard me pawing at the door and let me in. That night I had a hard time sleeping. Jane wasn't there and the house didn't feel right.
I thought about the last time I saw her. She had wanted me to go for a ride with her to get more dog food. Normally, I would have jumped at the chance, even grabbed my own leash when I heard the word ride; but not that day.
Just before she left for the store she had been on her hands and knees, trying to scrub that stain out of the carpet. She peeked under the couch while she was down on all fours, and in delight when she saw the slew of tennis balls that had rolled under long ago. I was so happy she found them. I mean, I knew they were there, but I couldn’t figure out a way to reach them. I remember her laughing each time she tossed one to me and I would attempt to catch it in my mouth.
Then she found my old chicken-flavored toy bone, which I didn’t know was under the couch. It was a miracle, my favorite bone was back; the one I thought was gone forever. I couldn't stop chewing on it; I was so focused on that bone, I don't think I even looked up when she left.
He motioned for me to come closer. I didn't move. I watched his shaking hand push the hair off his forehead. “Come here.” he said, quietly. I took a tentative step towards him. “Come on.” he said, “It’s okay.”
I put my head down and stepped closer. He slid off the chair onto the carpet in front of me. I could smell the days work on his skin, and in his hair. I could smell his heartache. I gave his ear a hesitant kiss and breathed in his sadness. He put his arms around the back of my neck and dropped his face into the soft winter coat that had gathered on my chest. I heard a muffled “Good dog.” spoken into my fur, and I felt a spark of light jump from my heart.
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