The Last Day

Sherry’s dog, Lance, greeted her at the end of the work day, the way he did every day when she returned from the office. He was always so happy to see her. But today, she walked past him, threw and large manila envelope on the kitchen island, took off her jacket, threw it over the sofa and literally kicked off her heels. Lance came up behind her and nuzzled her hand. 

“No Lance, not now.”

Lance backed away; circled around to face her. He licked her hand.

“Lance,” Sherry grabed his collar, “no, I said not now, sit.”

He sat and stared at her. She walked to the front door, picked up the mail from the floor.

“Bills, junk, junk, more bills,” she said aloud, tossing the envelopes on the coffee table. 

“BILLS,” she shouted, looking over at the black shepard.

Lance jumped up and began to bark.

“Lance, no, not now,” she yelled at him. “Stop it.” She grabed his collar again. Lance sat and gave Sherry a quizzical look, not knowing what was wrong. 

She walked back to the kitchen, pulled out an unopened bottle of scotch from the pantry and poured some into a glass. She took a large gulp, poured more into the glass and took a second drink. Sherry stood looking over the island in her kitchen, the one she designed, the one that she needed for entertaining her guests, to woo her clients. What was the point she wondered, as she squeezed her fists into a ball. Now it was all gone. 

Fifteen years at the architechual firm for what, a pink slip. Her boss mentioned that the firm experienced declining sales since COVID and that changes were coming. She expected layoffs, but she didn’t expect that she, the lone woman on the team, would be the one let go. After all, many clients came to the firm requesting her services. She thought that by working harder and longer she had proven her worth. But, clearly the firm was an old boy’s club afterall.  

What was it her boss said to her? She replayed the words in her head.

“This was a difficult decision but in the end, the others have families to feed and well, you’re single,” as he handed her an envelope. “There’s a meaty severance package, Sherry. You’ve done great work here.”  

Sherry picked up the envelope, twirling it around in her fingers. Did she even want to read its contents?  Why her? What about that young man they hired a year ago, the one her boss asked to mentor? “Oh, yeah,” she said aloud to no one, “he was the nephew of the owner.”

She thought about consulting a lawyer. “Is this rationale even legal in 2024?” She knew an employment lawyer who was in her yoga class. She had a class tomorrow morning, she decided she would up set a time to meet with him.

“If they think I’m going quietly, they better think again. That’s one way to give even with these fuckers, drag them to court, right Lance”

Lance tiptoed into the kitchen, stood in the doorway and again began to bark. Sherry picked up the still unopened newspaper from this morning and hurled it at Lance, hitting him in the chest. Then in a split second, she ran to him and hugged his long Shepard neck. 

“Oh baby, I am so sorry, can you forgive mommy?” She scratched behind his ears. “I know, you need a walk. Give me a minute”

She ran upstairs, threw on her jogging clothes and headed back down. When she got back to the kitchen she saw the puddle and Lance, huddled in the corner. In an instant, she grabbed his leather lead and began beating him. 

“Bad dog, bad, bad dog.”

She struck him over and over, until she collapsed on the floor crying. Lance stood over her, shaking, not sure what to do. After about 10 minutes, she got up, grabbed a towel to soak up the urine. Afterward, she put the lead on him and walked outside. The sun was setting. The evening sky was orange and purple, the color of her rage. She ran toward the colors, as fast as she possibly could, hoping to catch the orange ball, to burn up in the blaze. She felt the pounding of her feet on the asphalt shooting up to her head, which felt as if it were about to split. Her lungs sucked in the warm air at a frenatic pace. Her rage fueled her long strides, blinded her to the car turning the corner, until it was too late. Lance took a direct hit and flew into the air; she fell to the ground.

Sherry laid stunned and felt pain course through her body. She looked down and saw blood pooling on the asphalt from her knee. It took her a minute to realize what had happened. Then she remembered Lance.

“Lance,” she yelled as she struggled to her feet. 

A thin teenage boy in a t-shirt stood over her. 

“Lady, are you OK.”

“My dog, where’s ---"

Her eyes fixed on the black body splayed across the street.

“Lance, oh my god.”

She ran to the dog. The young teen followed her.

“Did you do fucking do this,” she yelled at him, as she bent down to cradle Lance’s already still body.

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t see you,” the boy stammered

“What are you blind? You didn’t see a large German Shepard.” She felt her face flush. She stood up and started to lunge for the boy. Suddenly an arm grabbed her.

“Let me go,” she yelled.

“OK lady calm down,” the police officer replied. “Come and sit down over on the curb and tell me what happened.”

Trance like, Sherry followed the officer and sat on the edge of the curb. She looked at Lance lying in the street like a crumpled old newspaper. The rage she felt exploded into audible sobs, for Lance, for her job, for everything.

Thankfully Lance died in an instant, no suffering. 

The next morning she buried Lance in a pet cemetary instead of going to her yoga class. Then she came home, and finished the bottle of scotch.