Bob Gallo isn't shallow

"I'm going to take a shower after this." Bob Gallo sat down at his computer with an audible sigh that reassured him that the situation was really annoying as he thought it was. His battle-tested boxer-briefs were getting tight on him these days, and he thought maybe that added to the smell. Bob craned his head down in "The things we do when we are alone but don't talk about" fashion, and smelled between his legs as close as he could to detect the severity of his modern problem. Beside the somewhat crusty smell of an middle-aged man who had masturbated without taking a shower, and who may be beginning the process of giving up, Bob noticed a newly forming gut adding to this new "total-package." Just three weeks prior to this current condition Bob Gallo was a daily showerer, and the word "quarantine" would have brought to mind something clean and/or antiseptic; now Bob will associate the word "quarantine" with skipped showers and far less manscaping. Bob looked over with just a head turn to his trusty and loyal pet and companion, "What am I doing letting myself go now, fella? I just became single a few months ago, so I'll be sorry when this comes to an end." Bob's faithful companion Reddy stared back, apparently listening. Bob's four year old (at the time) son had named the family pet that, and Bob could definitely still see the reddish tint that inspired the name. Bob missed his kids.

"I'll take that shower after I finish this, Reddy." Bob moved the numbers around on his computer, analyzed some data, and wondered how the hell so many people like him got paid to push around data. He wondered if he was essential in any real way, shape, or form. Most of all he wondered when it would be safe to go outside. Not just in the driveway, but really, really go outside. Bob Gallo had suffered from claustrophobia as a child, but had grown out of it mostly. There was that episode on acid as a teenager where it hit him like a ton of bricks in the crowded back seat of his buddies Dodge Shadow. He had to get out or he was going to die, was the thinking at the time. He literally started pushing on the small back window for space, and started shaking and hyper-ventilating. It was a similar feeling to his childhood claustrophobia, but he was on pretty decent acid, so.. Now sober and at his computer, Bob felt the need for a big inhale and exhale, and he looked over at his faithful pet, who just stared back with little movement. Bob laughed a little bit, "I need to get out, Reddy." Looking over at his pet of over four years, Bob furrowed his eye-brows at his own selfishness, "You'd probably like to get out too, wouldn't ya boy?" Reddy started to wag back and forth at the sound of this, and Bob noticed. "Yeah.. We've both been locked up too long. Sorry about that."

Bob continued his busy work on the computer, but his audible sighs had become more consistent. He started to notice the blank white wall behind his computer, and it almost looked like it had moved closer than what should have been possible given the size of the cheap, yet fashionable black work desk Bob had set up himself. Being that Bob didn't actually make or produce anything at work, he liked the fact that he put this desk together. The bottom line, however, is that Bob Gallo was feeling weird now. "My God, I feel like I'm trippin' out in here," he whispered out with a short, forced laugh. He didn't want Reddy to pick up on his potential feelings of nervous claustrophobia, because then Reddy might think he was weak. If you don't have your pets respect, what do you really have? Bob gave a faint smile and looked over at his companion, but something strange happened. Bob Gallo could see himself clear as day through Reddy's eyes; he could see what Reddy was seeing. Sitting at that screen, not really doing anything essentially productive, smelling worse than he should. This view of himself made a whole new set of walls start to close in. He was going to be 50 soon; the world has the same view of him as the beloved family pet, only the world would not get excited when Bob approached it, because the world got its food elsewhere. Bob wasn't exciting anymore, and this time stuck inside this box had just brought the truth to his attention. Reddy, with his clear, close-up view of Bob, inched forward, eyes fixated.

Over to the window Bob Gallo went. Placing his finger-tips on the too small ledge (all we can hope for when trying to open a window) Bob used his formerly impressive weight lifting muscles as he wrenched the window open. The gust of fresh smelling air hit him like water rushing in on a thirsty soul. He attempted to gasp in the breath he had been looking for through his nose. Closing his eyes he sucked the air straight into his brain, or so it felt. There was no screen, but Bob still felt as though he wanted to pop out an invisible screen and possibly run off into the distance; maybe like a tall, motivated Native American who also showed his resistance to the forced nature of his incarceration in one of Bob's favorite movies, but that wouldn't be appropriate here. He was in for good reason, probably, and he had to finish typing some non-essential things on his computer so he could get the essential money he needed to buy he and Reddy's dinners. Again, if you don't have your pets respect, what do you have? He felt he was done shaking off whatever it was he was suffering from before, and now he had to finish his "work."

The air pushed out of the cushion on the chair as Bob plopped down, this time with more of an extended grunt of determination than a sigh. He started typing away. "I can't believe I started tripping out after being at home for two weeks, or I guess it's three now. I guess it does really, really suck being trapped inside." Bob started thinking about his reflection in Reddy's eyes again. Then he started thinking about how for over four years his pet had been stuck in the house, seeing the same damn thing day after day. Sure, he had occasionally got out, but really not at all that much at all. What would that be like, to be trapped like that inside for all that time, with the decision being made for you from some outside power that deemed what was "in your best interest?" Imagine a whole life like that? The thought of that incarceration started to distract him from his typing numbers and letters again. Bob looked over and saw the only other living thing in the house for the rest of that week in nearly the same spot as before, staring back at him, probably wanting to be fed, or maybe let out. Bob was starting to think let out. He was just starting to think "out" in general.

Bob's non essential activities on the computer were going to have to wait. He fed Reddy real quick, and threw on his favorite blue sweat-pants to cover up his smelly crotch and ass. He considered changing his ever-so-slightly torn boxer-briefs, but then reasoned he didn't want to make another pair dirty before taking a shower, doing the justification dance we all do when taking the easier road. Really, he knew Reddy couldn't wait to get out, because he couldn't wait either. They were going to take a walk. Reddy wasn't waiting patiently for Bob to return in the same spot, but Bob found him close by and started some exited pet talk. "Are you ready boy? Are you ready Reddy Magetti? Yeah? You want to get out? Well I sure do, so I can't imagine how you feel. You're a good boy, and I'm going to take you out." Reddy started to get exited and do a little dance for his buddy Bob. Bob went into the kitchen and grabbed the necessities to take Reddy outside. Everywhere in the house Bob walked he felt like he was going to hit his shoulder on a wall; It was so much smaller than it was just a couple months ago. Maybe it was too small for four people, and that's why his wife lost interest in staying. Maybe the walls are always closing in for everybody, including our beloved pets, and we all deal with it however we can, Bob pondered.

Bob Gallo hooked Reddy up and got him all set to go outside. They walked out the modest front door together. The walls were still there as Bob walked off his porch. He realized his eyes were the walls at this point, and maybe you can't ever get out from behind that enclosed space, but to do your best to see the world from somebody else's was as close as you can get. He was happy to take Reddy out. It was a nice day, and had been for what might have been a week or a month; it was hard to tell. The deep breaths Bob was taking were finally getting in where they were supposed to, opening up more than his lungs. He hoped nobody had walked on the sidewalk there recently and sneezed or coughed in that exact space, but his need to get out superseded those worries on this occasion. People always seem to smile more at you when you are walking with your pets, and this day was no different, outside the fact that people did so from a few feet off the other side of the sidewalk. Bob had thought for years that humans generally wanted to smile and look at people when they walked by, and it's like they had to borrow the kindness and loyalty of the animals to do it comfortably, and that kind of made Bob sad. Then again, he got used to not being friendly with strangers himself, so he understood, sort of. He may have been an aging divorcee with kids he didn't see as much as he wanted, with signs towards being on the unfortunate side of typical, but Bob Gallo wasn't shallow. "I think we'll go down by the creek, Reddy. Does that sound like a good idea, boy?" Reddy didn't answer, but Bob knew.

Bob and Reddy made their way down to the local creek that had turned into a small river with recent rain, like it often did. It ran under a not so busy road, and on one side of the bridge it was the divider of backyards between adjacent houses, and on the other it ran into a stretch of forest that lasted for about a half-mile before it emptied into a larger river. This seemed like a good spot. Well Reddy, this is it. The lock-down is over for you. You don't need to feel claustrophobic any more than I do. There might be something out there that gets ya sooner or later, but I've done the balancing test in my head, and think this is what you would rather do. So here we are, and you've been a good pet. I'm glad my son picked you out of the crowd. I appreciate the way you have stayed with me at my desk while I worked there off-and-on the last few years, and especially these last few weeks.

Bob released Reddy into the water after leaving the bucket in long enough to get him acclimated to the temperature. Reddy the fish looked like he only knew how to swim in small circles for a moment, but then started darting movements that indicated he was using his frame the way it was always intended to be used. The movements looked happy. Bob Gallo imagined seeing what the fish saw after over four years of captivity, and it got him from behind his own eyes for a moment. He smiled a real smile, feeling any claustrophobia fade away. I hope something gets ya later, rather than sooner, Reddy, he thought. Bob slowly jogged home and called his kids soon after he got in the door; they had a nice talk like they always did. They all said they missed each other, and meant it. He finished his non-essential work a little later.

Written by Edward Stechschulte, J.D.