Black Dog

I was born under an overpass not far from here. The only pup out of my mother’s litter that inherited her vivid, black coat. When we were old enough to fend for ourselves, my siblings and I all went our separate ways, as is our nature. Some had the inclination to roam far, and as a result ended up as roadkill, I’m sure. I chose to stay close, thinking it the most practical option. And for a while it was, I was the only stray, the others of my kind were domesticated.

For the most part, I was left alone. There was one pair of humans, a man and a woman, that tried and failed to collar me. They lived in one of the houses on the side of the road that ran through my turf. They meant well, but their attempts were laughable. I had more trouble with the myriads of vehicles that traveled the road. The big loud ones were obnoxious, but easy to avoid. The smaller ones were tricky, but you just needed to keep your eyes open and move with purpose, a concept many squirrels failed to grasp.

While most of the humans were enclosed in their vehicles, there were some who rode on theirs. They were out in the open, exposed, just as invested in not hitting us as we were in not being hit. In a way, it made us equals. Too many times, I’ve watched the four-wheeled people swerve to hit one of us on purpose. Turtles seemed to be their favorite targets. But not these riding people. I found them intriguing, they came in all different shapes, sizes, and temperament, but I had a favorite. I don’t know her name, maybe she’s like me and doesn’t have one, so I call her Blue, like the jacket she wore. One of the few colors I can see.

When I first saw Blue, I didn’t think she was any different than the others. I sit and watch them where they stop before heading out onto the road that meets the highway, and they’ll spare me a glance at most, then they’re on their way. But when Blue stopped and saw me, she did a strange thing. She spoke to me. I heard a high, bright voice, no hostility I could sense, but it startled me and I ran back into the woods. It was odd, but I felt guilty for returning what sounded like kind words with my disappearing act, so I hung around to see if she’d return.

She did. I came out of the woods wagging my tail, and sat at the edge of the road. She’d wave, say something to me, and continue out onto the road. I would go back the way I came. This routine went on for months, neither one of us asking any more of the other. Eventually, I learned to recognize Blue by sound, and would rush to meet her. As far as humans went, this one was different. She lacked the arrogant thought that I needed to be domesticated. In Blue, I felt I had found a kindred spirit.

One afternoon, as I was inspecting a dead opossum, I saw Blue fly by, her bike was much louder this time, she must’ve done something to it. Just before she passed the entrance of a neighborhood, a familiar and much maligned white truck pulled out in front of her. It all happened in a second, but it felt much longer than that. I heard the chirp of her tires as she braked and veered to the right to avoid a collision. She ended up in the grass, and only barely managed to keep herself upright. I could hear her yelling and saw her raise her hand to make some sort of gesture as the truck continued down the road. I bristled with rage. All who lived on this road knew this truck, the driver was a man who had no respect for anyone who shared the roads, human or wildlife. I scoured the neighborhood and found where he lived, and promptly relieved myself on his tires and left a substantial mess on his doorstep.

Blue traveled alone, it was another thing we had in common, but there was one day when she arrived at our usual spot with a pack of her own. I was drawn by the unmistakable sound of many of these riders, and was surprised to see her. When they all came to a stop, I was there, and Blue pointed me out. The others seemed excited to see me, one of them even tossed me a treat. It was refreshing to receive such a warm welcome from a pack of humans, but I should’ve expected nothing less from Blue and her kind. 

It had been several months since I first met Blue, I was chasing the fox that often found her way on to my turf. It was a game we’d played many times. She ran across the road and I followed, not a wise decision. I saw the truck too late and was hit square on my hind legs. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I didn’t go flying like some of the others did, but the impact spun me around and I went skidding along the blacktop. The driver kept going and I was left lying in the middle of the road.

I laid still for a while, the pain was unbearable. I couldn’t move my hind legs, and I could feel blood trickling out of my nose. Eventually, I managed to get myself upright and dragged myself to the other side of the road. It was miserably slow going, and I wasn’t surprised to see something else coming down the road. I closed my eyes and hoped they’d stop, and when I opened them, they did. I was surprised to see that it was one light, not two, and was even more surprised to hear a familiar voice.

Blue kept her distance, and ran to the houses that lined the road. Understandably, it didn’t seem like anyone was willing to answer the door, but someone did. Next thing I knew I was faced with two more familiar faces, the man and woman who had been trying to collar me for so long. I’ll admit, my pride stung, and if it weren’t for the pain I would’ve growled at the woman when she crouched beside me.

If those two felt any triumph over the circumstances that permitted them to catch me, it would be short lived. The intense pain in my hind legs began to fade, and I felt chilled to the bone, as if I had been caught in a downpour. Slowly, it dawned on me. I was slipping away. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Those of us on four legs don’t put much thought into what happens next. In our minds, we simply cease to be, and our instincts tell us to avoid this for as long as we can. And while I didn’t know what to expect, I don’t think I would’ve imagined this.

Now I was standing on all four legs just fine. I saw myself, or rather, my body, surrounded by humans I could now understand. The woman acknowledged I had died, and the man implied that Blue was lying, said that she was the one who struck me. Ridiculous. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I barked to let my indignation be known, but none of them acknowledged the noise. Curiosity got the better of me and I bit the man’s hand. He jumped, inspected his hand, and said something about bugs. He complained about getting ready for work and stomped his way back to his house. My gaze turned to the darkness of the woods on the other side of the road, and there I saw her. My friend the fox could see me, at least, and in her eyes I saw a glimmer of sadness. Our game had ended far too soon. The woman apologized to Blue and promised to take care of me. Blue looked down on my body one last time. With her helmet on I could only see her eyes, they were also blue. I saw tears threatening to fall, but she cleared her throat, walked back to her bike, and sped off.

It didn’t take long for the humans to find the man in the white truck. The spray of blood plastered across the windshield and pooled all around him made it obvious that this wasn’t just a break down. What they would find inside would fall into local legend. A locked truck with its owner inside, eyes bulging, mouth open in an eternal scream, and a throat viciously torn open. The man’s case, along with many others that followed, would grow cold. But the fox knew, as did the opossums, squirrels, deer, raccoons, and turtles. They knew retribution had come in the form of a black dog.