A Metaphorical Story of a Dog

The courtroom was in session, and the defendant was awaiting justice. The crime had been deemed heinous, to say the least. The judgment of the jury, or of the judge, was left in no doubt. Dog, the defendant had bitten his master. Dog’s master was dead, and now the world wanted justice.

The jury pronounced Dog guilty on a count of first degree murder, and he was sentenced to be hanged till death.

Dog didn’t say anything as the sentence was passed. He had said enough in the courtroom, all of which seemed to have fallen on to deaf ears. Dog’s lawyer had tried to show evidence as to how the species in it, although domesticated, were dominated highly by instincts. Dog’s lawyer had brought Wolf and Coyote, cousins of Dog, to testify regarding the important role instincts played in the family. The world heard none of it.

Alone, in the chambers, Dog’s lawyer was trying to calm Dog down. He knew they had a chance, they could appeal to the high court, and they had to. Lawyer didn’t want Dog to give up, not when he knew there was a chance.

“Look, Dog. I know things haven’t turned out the way we wanted, but we can’t just give up now. We mustn’t,” said Lawyer.

“I know what you mean by that, Lawyer, but I don’t know if I have it in me for long, to just go on like this. My life was supposed to be filled with running around on beaches, or chasing cars, or catching the occasional Frisbee too. If I was lucky, I’d get to do all these things on the same day,” said Dog. He turned his deep, sad, brown eyes on Lawyer, and wistfully continued, “Do you know how happy that would make me?”

“I know that, Dog. Those are the very things that are imbibed in your instincts, just like all those things you did that got you here in the first place. Listen, why don’t you and I forget about this nasty business for a while, have a smoke and talk about something else, eh? What do you say to a smoke?” asked Lawyer.

“I don’t smoke, Lawyer,” said Dog, waving a dismissive paw at Lawyer, “but I wouldn’t mind talking about something else.”

*

A few days passed, but there was no progress of the case. Then, a few weeks passed. Dog was beginning to get a bit restless, and when Lawyer finally came to meet him again, the guards told Lawyer that Dog didn’t do much these days; he would just sit on his haunches and stare outside the window. Sometimes, at night, Dog used to howl as well.

“Hi, Dog. How’ve you been?” asked Lawyer gently. Dog looked inside from the window, and tried to smile with his eyes. He couldn’t really do it, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

“There’s been a lot of procedural stuff that’s been keeping me away from here. I’m sorry I couldn’t come over sooner. Still, we got the stay order on your sentence, and probably…”

“You know what I was thinking,” interrupted Dog, and Lawyer stopped talking, “that I would write. I would start writing, and everything I write will be for the people. I will tell them, in my own words, my side of the story. Do you think they would read it?”

Lawyer smiled, and said, “That’s a good idea. I think you should start writing about that, while I keep working on the procedural stuff. Don’t worry about a thing; we’ll together make sure that your words reach everyone else.”

And Lawyer and Dog sat and stared out of the window in silence, for the rest of the quarter of an hour that he was there with Dog. The awkward silence between them was gone, but neither of them noticed it.

In the evening, Dog received a packet from Lawyer. It had a writing pad and a pencil.

*

Excerpts from the writings of Dog:

I was very small when Master rescued me. I don’t remember much of those days, but Master had been a wonderful friend to me, right from the start.

One of the first memories between me and Master had been that of running on the beach. Even then, I had not known why I loved running so much. I would chase rats, crabs, and even smaller insects, without knowing anything about why I did it.

Master told me there was a word for that feeling – Instinct. He told me that  I came from a long line of animals who have always responded to instinct the way I do. He also told me that it was instinct that made me howl some nights, for no reason.

Master used to keep telling me that I was his best friend. He used to always be with me, even during the tough times… when I would have trouble controlling my instincts. With him, I was always happy, in a very goofy kinda way.

Master was the one who always was there during dinner time. He was always the one who would make sure that I got just the right amount… not too little, nor too much. He knew that if he had left it to me, I’d have devoured the whole box of food in just one go.

It wasn’t really my fault, what happened with Master. I don’t know why I did it too. Call it instinct, or whatever you want to call it. I didn’t mean it to happen either, and every day I feel sorry for the things that I’ve done.

I had known that there was something wrong with Master for the last few days, we as a species can sense it. Something was wrong, might be something at work, or something with his girlfriend. I think it might have been more of the second reason, as I knew she wasn’t really fond of me. Don’t ask me why, though. I’d heard a lot of fights between the two of them about me, although I don’t think they knew I could hear them…

One night, I noticed that she hadn’t come over for dinner. Master seemed to be in a bad mood that night, and when I asked him what happened, he told me that he had had a bad day at work. I somehow sensed that he was lying to me, but I didn’t say anything. I knew he wouldn’t keep lying to me for long. We had dinner in silence, and for the first time, his heart didn’t seem to be in as he fed me.

After dinner is when the bottle of Rum came out. I don’t like it when Master drinks, plus the smell of alcohol makes my head all heavy. I walked out of the room, and decided I’d go out for some fresh air. I remembered that it was a full moon night, and I was feeling very happy as I walked outside into the fresh air.

The meeting with the moon that night was wonderful. All the worries about Master and his girlfriend, the troubles of his office… all of that was just gently wiped away from my head. In that cool moonlight, I could feel that goofy happiness returning, and so just to play along for a while, I got up, stretched, and chased my tail for a bit. I still don’t know why we do it, except that it’s great fun to do that.

Soon after though, I heard a mighty crash from inside the house. I stopped quickly, and I could feel that there was something wrong with Master. He was saying something, but I knew for a fact that there wasn’t anyone in the house. I sprinted around, as quickly as I could. Master needs me, a voice in my head kept saying to me.

I walked to the door, but something stopped me from going in directly. There was another emotion that was beginning to well up inside me – fear. It seemed absurd, for I knew it was just Master in there. My best friend, Master. I wanted to scream out to my brain that it’s ok, that there’s nothing in there to be afraid of, but the feeling was too strong to overcome.

Cautiously, I walked into the room where Master was. I could see that he was drunk, but what I had failed to see was the revolver in his hand. I felt scared, scared somehow of the same man to whom I had always turned to, to be reassured that everything in the world was good and pure. I walked slowly towards him, but stopped when I felt that strong emotion again. This time, I could hear Master sobbing as well.

It was a different sort of sobbing, something which sounded as though he was about to do something rash, something that would make him very sad. I put my head gently on his lap, while my head screamed just one thing – get out. I didn’t dare say a word, but now I think I should have said something to him that time.

It happened in a flash. He was pointing the revolver at my head, point blank distance. I don’t even know how it happened, all that I remembered is the precision snap that my jaws made. Before Master had a chance to twitch his finger on the trigger, I had ripped out his throat. He was dead, before I could even realize what I was doing.

I didn’t know what to do. I think it was a good 5 minutes before I finally got the courage back to make the call for the ambulance. All I could tell them was the address, and that someone was hurt real bad…

Dog couldn’t go on after this. He put down the pen and paper for the night, knowing that he would have to continue with his side of the tale tomorrow. He got into the bed, wiped his tears, and tried to sleep for the night.

*

Dog was waiting for Lawyer, early next morning. He wanted Lawyer to read the little bit that he had written last night, and see if that would be of any use. Breakfast was served, Dog finished the last morsels of the sorry prison food, and yet there was no sign of Lawyer.

He waited all day, but Lawyer never came. Another day went by, and yet there was no sign of Lawyer. He was supposed to come, Dog knew that. On the third day, he finally asked the guards why Lawyer wasn’t coming.

“Didn’t you know? Lawyer died day before yesterday. Hit and run case. The kid got away though.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about that? How could the kid get away with killing a man? Lawyer was a friend of mine!” said Dog.

“Well, I dunno. The kid was the judge’s son, that gave him an edge I guess. Even with the DUI and all, the judge sure knew how to pull the strings and get his son free,” said the guard, obviously impressed by the judge’s reach.

“But what about my case? What about my story? What about me?” Dog asked in desperation.

“How on earth am I supposed to know? There wasn’t much doubt about it right from the start, Dog. You’re going to the gallows. You ripped your old man’s throat!”

Dog fell silent on hearing that. He lowered his tail, tucked it between his legs, and went quietly away, back to his window.

*

Dog’s date of execution was set a day later. It would happen in a week, the Judicial System didn’t want to waste much time. With the last week to live, Dog went unusually quiet. Of course, by this time, he was so much of a nobody that no one noticed his silence, or his withdrawal.

The day came, and the weather was the saddest that Dog had ever seen. Still, he wasn’t scared anymore. He walked to the gallows without aid, shackled from his muzzle to his tail. The stairs leading up to the noose wasn’t scary, the little wooden trapdoor wasn’t scary, the swinging noose above his head wasn’t scary.

The executioners moved to place the noose over Dog’s head. He heard a voice behind him, but he couldn’t recognize who it was.

“What about the hood? Isn’t that necessary?”

Another voice replied, “Come on, I want to get this over as quickly as possible. There are much more important things that I have to attend to.”

“What about his last words? Do we need to ask Dog for that?”

“Come on, hurry it up already! He’s a murdering dog, what last words would he have?”

And with that, all voices fell silent in the room. The only sounds was the steady ticking of the clock overhead,and the occasional rustle of the rope against Dog’s neck. Dog had lost all sensation, almost all along his body. He was numb, and strangely glad of that situation.

There were no intimations. Nobody asked Dog for any last words. The noose was fitted around his head, and Dog closed his eyes. The room went silent, even the clock seemed to stop ticking. At that moment, for a reason he couldn’t comprehend, Dog wanted two people to be there with him more than anyone else. Master, and Lawyer.

Nobody bothered to feel anything that Dog was feeling. Nobody stopped to think why at that moment, Dog closed his eyes, when he had been so brave throughout. In that silent room, a sudden rumble was heard. The trapdoor had opened, and Dog fell through.

*

The guard went in to sweep Dog’s cell. He knew Dog would not return, and the few things Dog had stocked while he was staying in that little room had to be removed. There was a new inmate coming in here; a deer charged with mauling a tiger with his horns.

The guard swept the room, and found the single page that Dog had scribbled. He took a glance at it, and saw that it belonged to Dog. He crumpled the sheet into a ball, and lobbed it at the dustbin. The ball landed about a foot too short, the guard cursed, and went on with sweeping the little room.