Karma

It was May Fourth, 1970 when that dog had the audacity to grace my welcome mat. He was a real scruffy one, a real mean look about him. I smoked my cigar slowly, exhaling, and studying the dog. It'd been a few years since my husband died, and I lived alone. I just wanna make one thing clear before I continue. This ain't 'sad old woman lives alone and finds solace in a dog that appears at her doorstep.' This dog was not your regular Max or Rufus or whatever pedestrian names y'all call your idiot tale chasing beasts. This dog was a devil sent to make me reap ever sin I'd ever committed. But, regardless, I thought I was living in some kids book. I thought this Doberman standing on my old welcome mat was gonna bring some happiness into my sad little life. I thought I could help this dog. And boy, was I wrong.

The dog went inside my house, his wet paws tracking over my floor. I'm not saying I lived in a palace, but usually it was clean. His beady eyes glared at my yellow wall paper, looking around my house like he owned the place. His overgrown claws clicked and clattered on my hardwood floor. He was hungry, but for what I was, and still am ignorant of. My cigar still dangled outta my mouth. It was a hot day, but all days seem hot now, all of 'em blend together until that day. My days with that dog pronounce themselves clearly in my head, a hazy and drunk sort of feeling, but I felt sober the whole time.

Now everyone says I killed my husband, that's why I haven't had trick or treaters around my place for a while. But I didn't kill him according to that jury and that's enough for me. My mind has blocked out that day, I don't know if I killed him, so my mind wonders, is that why this dog came, to show me what I did to my husband, or is it my husband torturing me with pain of ignorance and guilt? Though I don't know if I killed my husband, I could sure understand my motivation. He was a verbally abusive slob who drank his body weight in tequila every other day. I had to deal with that for fifty years. If that warrants that dog coming into my home and, well........

The wind blew through the trees and I looked at that dog. He was just sitting, staring at me. I went down to feed him, something like corn, I didn't know what dogs ate. He didn't even move it. It was odd. I'd had him for a week and he ate nothing. Yet there he was, healthy as can be. I took a drag off my cigar, a habit my husband and younger daughter, Carrie hated. The dog came closer to me, he stalked me as if stalking his pray. I felt a sharp pain in my face, though he was only looking at me my face began to breath. I screamed in pain, and the dog just sat there, doing nothing, satisfied.

I stood there, washing my face of the blood. I winced, and the dog looked at me, in a manner no one had looked at me in a while. a random thought occurred to me. I hadn't been in the car since my husband died. Mary, my older daughter brought me all my groceries. She didn't think I did it, she loved me, she believed me. Carrie hated me. I don't know why she loved her father the way she did. Even in death, she loved him more than me. I don't know what I've done.

I played fetch with the dog, or rather I threw the ball around while he looked at it with disdain. He thought he was too good for play. Maybe he was, but I was really trying me best here. I saw him move, he was going quickly, and I kept my eyes on him. He left. Then was back in an instant. I can't tell what's real and what's fake anymore, because the whole time he was behind me.

I smiled, and sat on the front step of me house. I screamed "Good riddance, dear husband, the world is better without you!" I then felt a choking sensation, I felt a cloth around my neck, I couldn't breathe. I was choking, and I knew the dog did this to me, I knew. I knew it was the dog, it had to be the dog. There was no one else there. I was the only one there. It had to be him. I was alone in the house.

"Alright." The expert jotting down my statements to see if I was mentally sound. She smiled and left. My daughter is on trial for my attempted murder. I know the dog did it. But perhaps it was Carrie. Perhaps she's the dog. I dunno. I never know. The expert whispered to a man, probably that I was insane. Who knows anymore.

My daughter was convicted; I was left to my own devices. I still see the dog sometimes. I can see him everywhere. Like, this one time I was visiting Mary, and she introduced me to her child, and all I could see was the same dog, though she said when I asked he was a human child. Maybe I am insane, maybe there was never a dog, but every once in a while he'll haunt me, he'll visit me, he'll torture me. Maybe everyone will hate this account of events, and call me crazy or say it's inaccurate, incomplete, or fake. But I can't just spend the rest of my days seeing this unnamed dog that visits me. I sound insane just saying it. I know, I know. Even if you hated this, if you do think I'm crazy, whatever. Just know, this is the only thing I can do to stop myself from, well.......... Anyways, thanks.