Lora was a Dog

Lora was here. Lora, was a dog. At least she imagined herself to be in this moment. Lora barked, she played, she spun, she laid. She did all this when they told her too because she was the dog. ‘They’ being the girls: Joe, Latoya, and Ashton encircled her, looking down at her while she playfully obeyed. They were all a family. Joe, the daughter; Latoya, the mom; Ashton, the dad; and Lora, the dog. She looked up tongue out, wagging her tail. She was a dog and she believed it. 

“LORA, SIT! ”Joe shouted playfully. Lora Sit was her new name. Her name beckoned her next action, so she did who she knew she was in that moment. She was Lora Sit, Lora Sit was a dog. Her tail hit the linoleum, bare in her mind, but in reality her jeans created a barrier between her bottom and the cold floor. 

“Good doggyyyy!” Joe kneeled down patting Lora on the top of her plaited head. Her mom had just done her hair the night before, Friday. Lora knew the ritual, she sat down on her satin pillow between her momma’s legs facing the TV, searching for which channel to watch for the next hour or so. The towel, around her neck catching any residual water dripping from her damp hair and scalp. Her momma had the wide-toothed red comb, pink lotion, and grease. Momma combed from the root first, always. It hurt every time. But Lora stayed right there, not daring to make any unnecessary movements for fear of getting popped by the comb. 

“Joe, let’s take Lora for a walk.” Mother Latoya called. 

Joe grabbed the soft pink leash and clipped it around Lora’s neck. Lora barked and wagged her tail. As one big happy family they walk around the circular set up of the church, all the patrons glancing as they walk by the group. No one really paid any mind to each other. Everybody had their own objectives for being there. Guided by the soft tug of Joe’s leash in hand, they went this way and that way. Lora truly enjoyed exploring the familiar grounds of the church with her family.

“Lora, what are you doing on the floor?” Lora heard her momma’s voice through the crowd of people. She couldn’t see her at first. But as Moses parted the sea, the crowd parted for her momma, Shara, who was almost stomping her way towards the girls. 

“Get up!” She raised her voice clenching her teeth. 

“Ooooo” the other girls laughed loudly enough that Lora could hear it even as they walked away from her and her mom. 

“Why are you on the floor? You know how dirty the floor is, Lora,” She said as she patted the invisible dust off  of her daughter’s hand and knees, “You know what is on this floor little girl? Why you out here playing a dog?”.

“It was a game. We were playing family. She was the mom, he was the dad, and she was the daughter. I was the dog.” Lora said honestly, unaware of what was to come. 

“Yeah, I see that,” Shara nodded as she spoke, “She was walking you like a dog, Lora, and you’re okay with that?”

“They said we needed a dog so I chose to be the dog. It was for the game.” she responded innocently, not grasping the reason for her mother’s sudden anger.

“Lora, I already told you I-” she inhaled sharply through her nostrils and curled her hands by her face, “I know it was for a game! You had this tied around your neck and she was holding it. This is a damn neck tie.” Her mom said blankly giving her that look as if she’s the dumbest little girl she’s ever encountered. How could her daughter be so stupid seemed to be the question she asked herself in that instant?

“But-” Lora tried to explain.

“Shut up,” Shara exclaimed. Lora began tearing up, “You want to cry? You’re the one out here playing a dog! You see how they’re over there laughing at you? They didn’t need a dog. They played you little girl. You could’ve been another sister, even the brother or somebody, but a DOG?! Lora, are you a dog? Got all these people,” she gestured to everyone around them trying to ignore the situation, “looking at you crawl on your hands and knees like a damn dog!”. Shara eyes were wide with anger piercing Lora’s entire being.

“But it was a gaAaAammMme.” Lora finally succumbed to the tears, snot trying to trickle out of her nose, but she quickly sniffed it up. Her mom looked for a moment, confused about why her daughter-whom she taught so well- was okay being somebody’s dog. 

“...Ain’t no daughter of mine a dog. You want to be a dog,” Shara started towards the clothing donation table in the front, “You go ahead and be a dog.”. She started shoving clothes around the table searching for something as if she had left it there prior to this moment. Eventually, from the abyss of clothing she pulled out a onesie. White as a base color with brown odd-shaped spots and what appeared to be fuzzy brown floppy ears. 

“Here,” she handed the onesie to Lora, “since you like being someone’s dog.”

Tears cascaded down her face, “I don’t want to be anyone’s dog. I learned my lessoonnn!”.

“Nah, I don’t want to hear it. Go put that on. Imma go in there with you.”

Lora could not stop her tears and her sobs from escaping. By this point, Shara was over it, but she paid no mind to her daughter. She walked a few steps behind Lora like she was a prison guard diligently escorting her prisoner to the desired destination. Even though she was crying it was not sadness that made her tears fall; she had not yet learned the word to describe what she was feeling, but between her mother escorting her to the women’s bathroom, the eyes of everyone trying to act like they’re not watching, and her “friends” snickering in the corner this indescribable feeling started to grow inside of her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to ask questions, because what really was the problem with their game? How could her mom do this to her, HERE, of all places? 

They made it to the bathroom quickly. Shara wasted no time, “Put it on now.”

Lora tried to delay whatever was coming next. She took her time thinking her mother wouldn’t notice.

“You betta move faster than that little girl,” Shara said over the stall door. Lora continued to silently cry as she pulled the onesie up over her under garments. The onesie was baggy on her eight year old body. She slowly opened the stall door and was met by her mother’s angrily disappointed glare.

“Now drink out of the toilet.”

Lora stood there confused staring up at her mom, unsure of what to do with those instructions. 

“Little girl-” Shara snapped through gritted teeth and raised her hand about to pop her daughter. Lora flinched. She turned and looked at the toilet bowl which was stained from its decades of use. She turned back to her mom.

“I don’t want to,” she barely whispered.

“What?”

“Momma I don’t want toooo,” she said sobbing, “I understand that I’m not a dog! Please momma!” She cried harder.

“Nahhh I clearly heard you say you wanted to play a dog so play a dog. Dogs drink from the toilet right? You like people telling you to sit and roll over. Well I’m telling you to drink. Drink.”

“Noooo momma I don’t want toooo! I learned my lesson! I’m not a dog!”

“And what else?”

“... and… and…”

“Do you know,” Shara asked. Lora shook her head hesitantly, “And don’t ever let nobody walk you like a dog. You got it?”

“Yes.” Lora sniffled.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… go wash your face and come out when you’re ready.” Shara said with a little more softness and compassion in her voice now. She walked out of the restroom with Lora’s clothes folded in her arms with a slight smirk playing on her lips satisfied with her newly instilled lesson. Lora looked at herself in the dingy mirror over the sink. She looked herself in the eyes, noticing that indiscernible feeling rising in her once again. Looking over the onesie she wanted to rip it off, but she refrained fearing her mom’s reaction if she were to walk out not wearing it.

She breathed deeply, “I am not a dog… I am not a dog…”

           …

“I am not a dog...I am not a dog.” she quietly whispered gazing upon her reflection. Turning in the mirror she pulled the tight polyester-nylon romper out from between her butt where it had been migrating toward the entire night. The garment was contoured to her body as though it wanted to replace her skin. The design reminded her of the onesie she’d worn once when she was little with its brown spots sprinkling the white. 

I am not a dog.

Her headband consisted of two long brown fuzzy ears that hang past her low positioned coily buns. She even had her face made up to emulate that of a cute but sexy puppy. Her lips painted with a black and brown lip combo coated with a shiny layer of gloss. Her large black square glasses sat high on her broad nose bridge. Think of the iconic dog snapchat filter.

I am not a dog.

Lora gazed upon herself one more time, then walked toward the bathroom exit. With a little extra force behind her push she was transported back into the world of loud music, sex, drugs, and sweat. She maneuvered her way through the packed crowd to return to her table. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Latoya leaned in and shouted over the music. She was in the same getup as Lora, but instead of brown she wore a black and white spotted romper with long black furry ears. Her hair tied back in a sleek messy bun. She wore a bold matte red lip that contrasted brightly against her white teeth as she laughed. Her face was also made up to give the essence of a dog. 

“Nothing.” Lora haphazardly answered, placing her elbows on the table. 

“Wassup,” Joe came over from the dance floor huffing and puffing, Ashton in tow, “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, turning her head toward Lora. Ashton handed her the drink she had been nursing since they got to the spot, “Thank you, baby.”  She took a sip through the tiny black straw. 

“Nothing.” Lora said with her head still resting on her palms. 

“Girl…” Joe said. 

“... Remind me again why we had to dress up like this.” She finally asked gesturing between herself and Latoya.

Still holding on to that drink, Joe answered, “BECAWZZZ it’s a costume party, Lora. Get with the program.”.

“Girl, I know that. Why we gotta be the dogs though?”

“Because it’s LADY,” she retorted, gesturing to herself while swaying her hips, “and THE TRAMPS,” she finished with a slight influx in her voice, sounding a little too peppy, “Plus, I don’t see why it’s a problem now. You agreeeed to the costume.”. 

“Yeah… I did,” she paused thinking of that time when she was little, “But I change my mind. I’m not fucking with this. Never have,” she turned, “Ashton, can you hand me my coat?”

She grabbed the large leather members only jacket and handed it to Lora.

“Thanks.”  Lora rolled her eyes and walked away from the table. She was headed in the direction of the restroom once more. Once inside, she locked herself in the stall where she proceeded to undress. She rolled the tight romper down her body and over her brown and off-white chucks being careful not to let the clothes hit the disgusting floor. She snatched the ridiculous ears off her head and smoothed down her hair. When all that was left on her body was her underwear she threw on her large jacket, which drowned her figure in leather and exited the stall. In the haste of getting undressed she completely forgot about her makeup. She stopped abruptly over the sink after seeing her reflection.

I am not a dog.

She grabbed a wad of brown paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them in hand soap and water. Each wipe became more forceful. The black face paint no longer transformed her nose into a snout, instead it morphed into a giant smudge all over her nose and cheeks. More soap, more water, more towels, more time, and eventually she got the majority of the makeup off. Lora looked at herself once more.

“I am not a dog!” 

“I would hope not.” Latoya’s laugh boomed from the door.

“Here.” Lora walked with determination, handing her the costume.

“Wh- what you want me to do with this?” 

“I don’t fucking care. I’m done though.” Lora pushed through the door and turned left toward the club’s exit. Somehow it seemed the place got even more crowded than it was five minutes ago. She continued on, passing by Joe and Ashton on her way out. Joe tried to get her attention, but she just kept on walking. Once out the door she was met with the quiet stillness of the city on a late Saturday night or an early Sunday morning depending how one looks at it. A heavy sigh released itself from her lungs. She could see her breath in the frigid air. Lora could no longer be a dog. Lora was here.