BLU

I woke up and there he was, wagging tail, smiling eyes.

“All right…”

I removed the blanket and sat up, my feet on the floor. The pup, I named him Blu, was an early bird. This was my second day with him. Maybe I was feeding him too much, he was too energetic. I looked over at the clock. Christ, 6:12 in the morning and it’s already this pumped up?

“You know. My boss would really like you.”

The dog said nothing.

“You might even be paid more than I am.”

Still nothing. Soft, dumb eyes.

“Okay…but don’t tell me I didn’t offer you the job.”

I got out of bed, washed up and put shoes on my feet, and a leash on the dog. It was 6:30 by then.

We went out, the dog leading me like a man leads a woman on the dance floor. Then I went back inside to get a jacket. Too sensitive for the morning chills. Blu was all smiles and tongue.

We walked along. Well, I had done it. Got a dog, finally. The plan was simple, get a dog, use its motivation to get exercise. Maybe women. And if not women, then at least I would have it to cuddle with. Plus, Blu’s hair was amazing. I would run my hand through all that fur, and he would feel good, and I would feel even better.

The problem was the shit and piss and saliva. That’s why I hadn’t got one all those years. Why couldn’t they dissipate their stuff into the air? If only there existed spiracles for excretion, I would have made a big litter of dogs. 

We passed a bus stop. A shopping complex and a parking lot. A park. Birds squawking and chirping. There were runners in the park, and some old folks walking. They didn’t need dogs, they pulled themselves. Out of bed, then into their shoes, then while running. I couldn’t understand it. When I woke up in the morning, my eyes wouldn’t open, my head would swim, and my hand would smack the alarm without being aware of it.

I bought a carton of milk and a bag of kibble on the way back. It was seven thirty in the morning, the shopkeeper looked dead. Somewhere, thankfully, Blu evacuated himself.

We reached home and I used some of the milk to make cereal for myself and used some for Blu’s food. Then I took a shower and dressed for work.

I wished I could take the dog with me to work. Keep it on my lap, near my chest, in my arms, while working. A warm bundle of life. They probably wouldn’t allow it. I shut the door behind me as I walked out. I could hear Blu on the other side.

I came back around six in the evening.

Blu ran up to me as soon as I opened the door, and licked my hands, face, all. It was nice to be licked as soon as I came home. My troubles were being wiped away. Who feels better, the licked or the licker? Those psychology nuts would know.

I plonked my keys in a bowl by the door and went further inside.

I lived alone and my house was small. A bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and a small living room. Just two plastic chairs in the living room. He had dirtied one of them.

“Can’t you lick that too?” I said to Blu. He snuggled against my leg and rumbled. I sat on the other chair with Blu in my lap.

“It’s okay…I’m sorry."

The dog had that pink road out of its mouth and was panting.

Then after dinner, we went for our second walk. This time I was fully awake, so I jogged instead of walking. I hadn’t run in a long time, but it was fun. Blu was bouncing and looking back, barking sometimes.

I saw an elderly couple walking down the street. They were walking slowly and looked very calm. Me and Blu, we were a young couple. We still had fights left in us, but they had wrapped up all of that.

Somewhere, Blu went again. He was full of it. I decided to feed him a little less.

***

Things were going very well with me and Blu. It was easier to get up in the morning, and some mornings I would surprise him by waking up before him. The only difference was that I couldn’t lick him to wake him up.

A month in, and I started to notice some weight loss. Maybe it was a placebo, but I was proud of myself. Still, there were days when I wanted to die in the morning. But like me, Blu had to go somewhere, and I didn’t want him to, inside the house.

One morning we found a cat in the park. It looked weak and was limping. Its ribs were like speed breakers on its body. I took a photograph of it with my phone to upload somewhere later and tag animal welfare. While I did that, my grip on Blu’s leash loosened, and he bounded towards the cat.

“No, Blu, hey!”

I thought he was going to bite it. But he didn’t, he just stopped in front of the cat and looked at it. Then he looked at me.

“Okay…”

I took the cat in my arms, and the poor animal didn’t even resist. We took her to the vet, and he charged me a good amount. Oh, well.

Blu spared the helpless cat. I was raising him the right way.

***

Our walks were entertaining. This one time we saw a homeless man with a placard. It said, ‘Kind acts never go unrewarded.’ Blu pulled me to him. He raised his head when he saw me, squinting, clothes dirty, and raised a tin cylinder up to me. His hands were shaking and there was mud in his nails. There was nothing in that can. I imagined there was nothing in his stomach either.

I dropped a folded dollar note into the can, which I thought was pretty generous. He tipped the can in acknowledgement and I turned to go. But Blu wouldn’t come.

“Let’s go.”

He didn’t budge. Then the petite monster started barking. And loud. Eight thirty in the morning, and there were people stopping and staring. Some came over and dropped coins and notes in the can. Then the old man extended his hand and Blu started licking it.

“No! Come on.”

I had to really pull on that leash. He was going to lick me later with the same tongue, and I didn’t want that.

Then another time I was walking him late at night, and there was a hot dog stand on the other side of the road, with no one near it. He ran that side and started chewing on a half-eaten hot dog on the ground. A dog eating a stale hot dog. By the time I crossed over, the seller had come from somewhere.

“Shoo!”

“Hey, that’s my dog.”

“Well, manage him better, I don’t want dogs eating around here.”

“Why don’t you manage the waste better.”

“Look, just take the dog away.”

“Come, Blu.”

Blu stood there wagging his tail.

“Do you have any left?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“One.”

I paid him and fed Blu from my hand in front of him. After his stomach was full, Blu gladly obliged and followed me. He emptied that hot dog in some corner. The things I did for the bastard.

***

Blu was growing up. We were six months into the year, and he was about six months too, a little more than that. I think he must have been half grown up by then. He had black and white fur, and the colors were brighter than before. Yin and Yang all over his body. It wasn’t so easy to keep him in my lap now, but that was okay, all children must grow up and be separated from their parents.

He had hit puberty sometime along the way and would go sniffing every female dog who came near him in our walks. It helped me too if a woman was walking the dog.

“He’s a terrier, isn’t he?” was always the first question. After that the conversation would get awkward, and the dogs would separate and we would, too.

I had become thinner, and there was a fad going on about jawlines being attractive. It didn’t make any sense, but I had got a bit of that and was proud. I had learned how to manage the house with a dog quite well, something I was very afraid of at the beginning. Nothing to it. Morning walks and a little training were all that was required. I had scaled it up to a demon, made a water pistol into a tank. 

Some evenings I would sit with Blu in the small balcony I had, with one of the plastic chairs from the living room. I would have tea, and Blu would have me. People walking on the road, clotheslines, telephone poles, trees. Buses in the distance and cars parked. Everything was trying its best. Does a sapling think it has to become a big tree? It would stop growing if it were afraid of not being able to match all the other saplings. It would start growing into the ground, into the dark, instead of into the sun. It would become a root vegetable, and one day someone would pull it out and eat it.

I looked over at Blu and saw the same eyes I used to see when he was but a baby from my standards. But he had grown and so had I. I hadn’t become a root vegetable. That seemed like a victory, if only for me and the dog.