Perspective

How could she forget the labour of nine months in nine dull days? Every moment of every day was planned for, there were no provisions for mistakes. Yet something went wrong. I do not know what. But these nine days, she cried like a baby. Erratic sobs from her room struck me like a thousand needles. I climbed up the bed and sat next to her – quiet. I was never much of a talker. I never understood the working of a language – words. So all I did was look her into the eye and caress her. These nine days made me realize how even the strongest of souls have their limits. I had never seen her crying since the day we met, which was almost five years ago.

People appeared from time to time, but the flat was left mostly to us. Every morning she made me a breakfast of cereals and milk usually, and we ate together. She would go out for work then and I’d miss her dearly for the next few hours. Every day she returned I’d hug her and smile to her. She seemed annoyed sometimes, but never complained. Every Sunday evening, we’d go out for a walk and how I could see jealous faces all around me. She was beautiful to the soul, but I never told her that. I wish I could.

Sometimes we’d go to the terrace and watch the stars. She’d say that my vision is not as sharp as hers to realize the beauty of nature, but I didn’t mind; as long as she was smiling. But these nine days had changed everything. No walks, no talks, no stars. All there was, was a gloomy ball of energy that surrounded her. I tried to drive it away, but none of my tricks seemed to work. All she did was sat in her room watching TV, and I sat beside her all day long; but did not utter a word – I wish I could. To tell her she’s still beautiful, to tell her she was my everything, and to tell her life isn’t dead was all I wanted. I wish I could. I wish I could see her smile and giggle to my jokes for one last time.

One morning I was woken by a sudden bang at our door. I rushed outside to the hall immediately to see a surge of men rushing to her room. I tried to stop them when Mrs Ridley grabbed me and said, “It’s all ok. You do not need to worry.” I sat there with her and she rushed inside as two men broke her chamber door. There was silence for a minute followed by a soft whisper and a horrible shriek. It chilled me to the bone and I couldn’t contain myself from barking. 

“Someone take the dog away”, a man said, and a young lady took me outside and down to the garden. I could not understand what was wrong – I wish I could. The young lady kept me at bay for an hour then I finally managed to slip past her and flashed all the way up. Our room was locked; sealed. I thought it was yet another one of her pranks, so I barked and howled unaware of the near future. I sat there but no one opened the door. Finally Mrs Ridley’s daughter came along and led me to her house. I was chained in the garden.

Since then, every morning, I run up to our house in hope of some cereals dipped in milk in my bowl. I stand outside howling, but she never opens the door.