Its mistress was really angry with it.
“Oh no.” She’d said. “What happened? Did you forget?”
“No miss”, it had replied, like a fool, even suppressing the hint of a proud smile. “It didn’t forget. But medicine is expensive, you don’t need to waste it on such a mutt like this, Miss Lydia. It takes a pill every third day.”
It had tried to think for itself. It was such a worthless pet, prideful, thinking that it knew better than its owner.
Now she was on the phone with Dr. Kumari, in the other room. She had closed the door, so it couldn’t hear the words, but she sounded upset.
The pet had been washing dishes downstairs, while she was dusting. (A strange and unfamiliar organization of labour. Normally the pets and/or servants did all the work.) Apparently she had been dusting the room where she let it sleep, moved the medicine bottles and realized that they were nearly full and that the ointment it had been given for its scars was completely unused.
She had asked it several times during the past days if it remembered the medicines, and it had truthfully answered yes. It had not forgotten about the medicines, it had simply saved her the cost of wasting them on this second-hand pet.
It had even been secretly proud of itself. It was a hardy pet, a strong one, not one of those delicate ones who would cost its owner lots of money to maintain. In its boldest moments, it even dared imagine that she might give it a smile, perhaps even a fond pat on the head if she found out how thrifty it was.
In hindsight, it realized what a terrible mistake this all had been.
Its mistress had not been proud of it, she had been horrified and now she was on the phone with Dr. Kumari.
It had disobeyed an order. It was in good faith, but still, it had been bad. It had been so very bad.
What would they do to it? It didn’t have a tail that they could dock, but other extremities could be used just as well. Perhaps she would starve it, or whip it so harshly that it would really need the little pills then. Perhaps she would throw it out and return it to the facility as the defect goods that it were.
It wanted so badly to cry.
There was no point to it, though. Empty tears would not change this situation and it had only itself to blame.
Shh! It could hear her opening the door to her study. She walked out into the kitchen and rummaged around there for a while. It could hear her chopping something. Its blood run cold, perhaps she was practicing before turning the knife on her no-good pet.
“Coriander, please come here.”
It rushed to kneel at her side as she shook out the three prescribed pills into her hand. Two white and one red.
She bent down to look straight into its eyes, it wanted to look down, look away, anywhere to not to have to meet her serious gaze. It forced itself to look into her eyes anyway.
“Coriander, It is very important that you take your medicine.” Her voice was stern. More like a master’s true voice than it had ever heard from her before. She spoke slowly, and very clearly. “To make sure that that happens, I will give you your pills every day from now on. You will take them in front of me. Do you understand?”
It made a quick, nervous bob of acquiescence. “Yes, Miss Lydia.”
“Good.” Her tone was clipped. “Now, I want you to take these three pills. One by one, with water. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, Miss Lydia.”
She watched it carefully while it swallowed the pills. “Could you please open your mouth and show me that you’ve taken them?”
It did as she asked, and then hung its head in shame. She didn’t trust it anymore, as she well might not. It was such a badly behaved pet that she couldn’t even rely on it to manage such a simple thing correctly. It didn’t dare to look up into her face, sure of the anger and contempt that it would find there.
Then, she reached out and stroked her hand over its hair. It looked up in astonished surprise and saw that her eyes were glittering with tears, though she quickly blinked them away. “Well done.” She said, sounding more like herself. “Indira says that we can start over with your regime and that there should be no harm done. If you start to feel bad, or if you for some other reason don’t want to take your medicine, you need to tell me about it, all right?”
“Yes, Miss Lydia.” What else could it say.
“Here,” she handed it a bowl of yoghurt, with chopped pieces of pears and bananas and some honey drizzled on top, “you need to eat something with your medication, so please eat this right away.”
It ate in silence, wanting to cry the whole time. Why was she so nice to it? The worthless pet that had made her - its mistress - cry. It did not deserve such nice food, with honey, even. Maybe she was just waiting for the right time to put it in its place?
When it had finished she called it out into the living room. It felt horrified, but also almost triumphant. Now, it would finally be punished. It was afraid, a fear that put cold knots in its stomach and made its hands shake, but at least this was something it understood.
His mistress was sitting in the sofa, and she pointed to the empty space next to her. “Coriander, come take a seat here.”
No, it could not. Pets should not be on furniture. It kneeled down in front of her, watching her with pleading eyes, but she was implacable. “Please sit on the sofa.”
It crawled reluctantly up next to her, shivering. What kind of punishment was this? Did she want to hurt it where its blood would leak into the cloth of the sofa, so that she could punish it again for that offense?
It felt so uncomfortable with sitting next to her. It was like - and the very thought made it gasp - it was like it thought it was a person.
“Could you give me your hand, please?” The order was clear and it reached out its left arm to her. As always, the movement awoke a slight, dull ache in its damaged shoulder.
The pet closed its eyes and bit its teeth together so hard that it could hear the strain of it, waiting for the inevitable pain to start. She put its hand in her lap and then it could feel.... the cool touch of a salve being rubbed against its wrist. Confusedly, it opened it eyes. She was turning its hand this way and that, and gently rubbing in the ointment all over the deep, criss-crossing scars. When she was satisfied, she held out her hand for its other wrist and did the same on the other side. Then, she knelt down by its feet.
The pet just watched her in disbelieving horror. First, she had placed it on the forbidden sofa. Now she was kneeling in front of it. While it was sitting motionless, frozen with the shock of it all, she folded up the leg of its trouser and pushed down the top of its sock, just enough to expose the wide band of scar tissue circling its ankle.
The pet had been so, so bad. It was being so bad still. Thinking for itself, not obeying its mistress and now, the mortal sin, causing her to kneel in front of it.
It must have made some unconscious sound, like a half-choked sob, because she looked up from her task. (The task that shouldn’t have been hers in the first place!) “Coriander.” It started involuntarily at the sound of its name. ”How are you doing, love?” The pet looked down at her. ”You are crying. Is is very painful?” It couldn’t gather itself for a reply, so she asked again as if it didn’t understand the first time. “Does it hurt a lot?”
Hurt? No, the scars were healed. They did throb and itch sometimes, but the cool ointment and her massaging it into its skin with careful circular motions did not hurt. It almost felt nice. But the strangeness of sitting next to her on the sofa, and then. the unthinkable of having her kneeling in front of it. It was overwhelming. In the pet’s experience, owners were supposed to be like avenging gods, albeit the Roman and Grecian kinds with all too human flaws. They were supposed to set the rules. They were not supposed to care.
It shook his head. “N-no, Miss Lydia. It doesn’t hurt.”
She gave it a disbelieving look, and it could feel her touching its scars with even more gentleness, a touch which was barely there at all. But even though there was no physical pain, the knowledge of what was happening, the sheer wrongness of it, cut it to the core.
“You mustn’t kneel, Miss Lydia.” It blurted out. Even if she had told it to stay, it couldn’t take it anymore. It was being so disobedient, but it just couldn’t stand it. It threw herself down on the floor in front of her. It flattened itself against the floor with such a force that it banged its head against the wood. It was crying openly now. “This pet is so sorry, Miss Lydia. Please punish it. Please! It will take its punishment so well. You can do anything to it. Please, Miss Lydia, please.” It tried to keep its voice steady, but it dissolved helplessly in tears.
“Cory.” She took it by the shoulders, lifting it up. “What is happening, right now?”
“Y-you mustn’t kneel, Miss Lydia. Only pets kneel. And... a-and this pet has been disobedient and needs to be punished.” It swallowed. “Discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and wellbeing of a pet”.
The last came out fluently, with no hesitation.
She watched it, her brown eyes searching its face. Coriander had to steel itself, not to look away. “Does it really make you feel that bad?” It nodded miserably.
“It is wrong, Miss. Only pets should kneel.”
“And you are sure you aren’t crying because the treatment is hurting you?”
”N-no, miss. It doesn’t hurt.”
“Okay, then. I want you to sit on the sofa again. There, up you go.” She half dragged, half lifted the pet upwards and Coriander forced its body to obey. “That’s very good. Now I want you to lie down. There, lie back against the pillow, and just lift your feet up. Perfect. You are doing very well.”
The pet, half-dazed by the sudden turn of events, found itself lying on its back on the sofa. Its head resting on a pillow and its feet in its mistress lap. She kept up a quiet stream of praise and soothing words, like gentling a nervous horse, while at the same time applying the ointment to the pet’s ankles.
“There.” Lydia said with satisfaction. “All done. How do you feel?”
“F-fine, Miss Lydia.”
“That’s good.” She moved to stand up, the pet quickly withdrew its feet from her lap. “You should stay here for a little bit, just to let it soak in properly.”
It felt itself so cold, all of a sudden. And lonely. And scared. Everything was so strange and unpredictable. It didn’t knew what was expected of it.
Even though it was being a bad pet, it couldn’t resist reaching out for her. A wordless plea. Don’t leave me alone.
She must have heard the pet’s sudden movement and stopped in the doorway. A stray sunbeam from the window shining golden-brown in her hair.
“All right,” she said, “Just give me a moment, I’ll wash my hands and I’ll be right back.” Coriander could hear the sound of the water running in the kitchen, followed by her returning footsteps. “Okay,” she said, “just sit up a bit. That is great. Now, you can lie back down. Just let me take this blanket. Are you comfy like that?”
Coriander, lying stretched out on its side on the sofa, its head in its owner’s lap, a red-and-blue checkered blanket spread out over it and a second, green blanket over her shoulders, nodded. “Thank you, Miss.”
In a distant part of its mind, it remembered that some pets had it like this. That their owners wanted a lapdog to cuddle and praise and enjoy spending their time with. But in Coriander’s recent memories, it knew that leniency like this always came with a price.
There was nothing it could do about it, so for the moment, the pet relaxed, enjoying the warmth and companionship. Trying not to think about whether or not the cost would be too high.
