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Bad Dog
They had put him in the box.
He hated the box. It was small and hard to move in. All he could do was lay down in the box and stare out of the bars while he waited for them to come back. They always came back eventually. His people had been gone for forever this time though, maybe even an hour. Would they ever come back? Would he be let out once they came? He cried softly. They had abandoned him, hadn’t they? His people were never coming back for him, and he would have to stay in the box for all time.
They had called him ‘Bad Dog’ again. He got called that a lot now. Was that his new name? Was he a bad dog? That was why they had left him alone in the box. It was the chewing that bothered them. But he couldn’t help it. The shoes had smelled interesting. And the table tasted nice. He liked the way it felt as it bit down; his mouth hurt less when he chewed on things. His people didn’t understand that though. They just called him bad dog and put him in the box to think about what he had done. And he did think, a lot, about the chewing. He would stop if he could, would stop for them, but it was hard when his teeth would start to hurt. It was just too hard not to then. He had tried to keep his chewing to just the one leg, for them, but they had put him in the box anyway.
Were they going to take him back to that place? He had little memory of life at the place, but there had been other dogs there. Would they be there when he returned? They had talked to each other through the walls of their boxes until people came to take them away. Had they been bad dogs too and been brought back? Maybe they were good unlike him. He was sure that was the case. The others would never have chewed on the table or peed in the house. They would have been able to follow the rules. Maybe he was just broken. That’s why he kept chewing on things, why he couldn’t just wait to be let out to go to the bathroom.
He had peed in the box even, and that wasn’t allowed either. He could smell it, and it smelled like guilt. They were going to come home and see what he had done and make him sleep in the box all night, like the time he was really bad and threw up in the food room with the floor that was cold under his paws. He hadn’t meant to get sick; it was just that his tummy hurt. But a good dog wouldn’t have done that. He cried softly again. Why couldn’t he just be a good dog?
There was a sound off in the distance. The door! He barked excitedly for a moment before he remembered that his people didn’t like when he tried to talk to them either. They always told him to be quiet, so he tried to be quiet now. It was hard for him to hide his excitement though. They had returned! They hadn’t abandoned him after all! Maybe if he was good they would let him out of the box after all. It had been years and years since they had put him in there, and he would try really hard to not to chew things this time. Except when his teeth really hurt. And he wouldn’t pee in the house either. Unless they didn’t put him out at night and it was too long to wait. Then he would be good, and never in the box or taken back to the other box in the place with the other dogs.
He heard the door open and he barked, just a little, not too loud, so his people didn’t forget he was in the box and think he’d forgotten them while they were gone. He could have never forgotten them, and he was so happy they were home. But the smell was wrong. It was people, of that he was sure, two of them, but they weren’t his people. He cried softly. So they had left him after all. They were never coming back. If he hadn’t been a bad dog, they would have come home by now. Right? And the strange smelling people wouldn’t be in the house. He would have been out of the box to take care of them like a good dog, like the best dog. Though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He cried again. Maybe he was a bad dog.
One of the smells moved closer. All he could do was lay there as it entered the room. His people had forgotten all about him, and now there were strangers with strange smells in the house. He whined and rested his head on his paws. They had left him behind to stay in the box for forever. Why? What had he done that was so wrong that they didn’t want him anymore? He would have given anything to fix it, but all he could do was cry and wonder where they’d gone.
One of the smells stopped right in front of the box. He could see the stranger through the bars. It was looking at him. He had never learned person looks, so he didn’t know what this one meant as they looked at each other. “Hey there,” the person said, “Did they leave you all alone in jail?”
He whined softly. Was that what the box was called, jail? Was jail where bad dogs had to go? Was that why they had left him? The person didn’t hear those questions, didn’t know how much he wanted out of jail or any of his promises to be good, but it was opening the box anyway, just like his own people did. The door swung open, but he knew not to get out. Only his people could let him out, and this wasn’t one of his people. “It’s okay little guy.” One of the person’s paws reached into the box and pulled him out. “There we go. Good dog.” The paw ran over his head slowly.
His tail wagged. The stranger had called him a good dog and petted him. He liked that, wanted more pets before he got put back in his box. But then the stranger was standing up on his back paws, just like his people could do, and walking away from the box. He was still in the stranger’s arms. Where were they going? Did he get to go somewhere? He whined softly, unsure what was going on. “It’s okay boy. You’re okay.”
He couldn’t help how he leaned into the paw that ran along his head again. The stranger was taking him toward the other smell for some reason. Would that stranger pet him too? Maybe even call him a good boy? His little heart beat fast and his tail wagged some more. “Mick,” said the stranger holding him was they found the other.
The other person made a strange noise and turned toward them. “There you are. I need help with this. Wait, why do you have a dog?” The new stranger was giving the one holding him another of those strange person looks he didn’t understand.
“I found him. He was in this tiny cage in one of the back rooms. He didn’t have water or food or anything. And I didn’t see any toys for him to play with even.” The stranger pet him again. “He’s just a baby. He was crying and everything. Weren’t you boy? They left you all alone. Look at this cute little face and tell me that you could have just left him to suffer like that.”
He let out a little whine as the person holding him said that. It made him sad to be reminded that his people had abandoned him. If he could have just been a good dog they wouldn’t have gone away. The other person made another of those strange human sounds. “You can’t just steal someone’s dog Snart. Put it back and help me get this in the van.”
“No.” The person pressed him against his chest. “I’m going to keep him.”
He found the world around him going dark as he was wrapped in some of the removable fur the person who held him wore, and it was a little scary. What was happening? He whined softly. Where was he going? “It’s okay,” the person said, scratching his head a little. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Prometheus? You want to come home with me. Don’t you boy? We can stop off to get you some toys to play with and a proper bed on the way.” He settled against the person, a little less afraid now.
“Oh great,” the other stranger said. “You named it. I suppose we have to keep it now.”
The person holding him made a funny noise that rattled his chest, but he wasn’t scared anymore. He was happy that he was getting to leave, and go to a place far away from the box. This time he would be a good dog, no matter what he had to do. And he would get lots of pets. And maybe some of those toys that the person had mentioned. He liked the sound of that.