Selves And Dogs

     Risa West was an occasional visitor to her own life, but it didn’t interest her all that much. Most of her time she spent living the life of Samantha Arden, a woman who disappeared often – sometimes mid-sentence – in order to jump out of planes or rescue abused puppies, or – on a good day – both. Then Risa would step in, finishing the sentence, getting a glass of whiskey and collecting a small check for her efforts.

     Samantha Arden had rescued forty-three dogs, and planned to find good homes for them. So far, she’d found no better home than her own, which now carried a distinct odor, an odor that announced to anyone approaching the house that the dogs were more important than any people who might dwell within. Very few people ever approached the house. Samantha, however, had a loyal and somewhat hungry following among the sexually inadequate. Her picture greeted many a frustrated and lonely man when he turned on his computer each morning. These men would undoubtedly say that Samantha was the most important being in the kennel her home had become.

     Lester, one of Samantha’s most eager and sympathetic admirers, had on his computer a rather unusual Samantha photo, with a more bemused, slightly mischievous look to her eyes. The first twenty minutes of each day he dedicated to studying that photo. It made him feel less alone, and so took away that need to get close enough to someone to strangle him or her. And so he could happily go about his day, driving his route, retrieving recyclable materials from the bins that line up along the curbside, with little fear of murdering anyone. Lester had not tried to strangle anyone for more than three weeks now, and felt it was time to get a dog.

     Samantha was being interviewed about her rescue efforts by a local news team, as a special interest story (this station was known for its special interest stories, and covered little else), when she picked up a signal on the wind that a golden retriever was in trouble. Within seconds she disappeared, and half a moment later Risa was there to finish up the interview.

     As she stepped into the alley, Samantha knew she was close. She could hear the dog whimpering, trying to call out to her, straining to find his voice. “I’m here,” Samantha said to the dog, as she pulled out the nightstick given to her by an admirer who had been on the police force, ready to do battle. There was a sharp thud behind two recycling bins, and Samantha quickly and silently stepped over to them. “Comfortable, soft-soled shoes are key,” Risa told the interviewer. Samantha kicked aside one of the bins, startling Lester, who had his hands around the dog’s throat.

     “Who are you?” Lester asked, letting go of the dog.

     “I am Samantha Arden,” Samantha answered, as the dog ran to her.

     “You look different,” Lester said, confused and disappointed, just before Samantha brought the nightstick down on his head.

     When the interview was over, Risa decided it was time to check in on her own life. It was dull, but it needed tending from time to time, and there was no one else to do it, no one else to feed it, trim it, take it out to run its engine. While Risa was running her life around the block a few times, a man stumbled out of an alley in front of her. She glanced at him, and stepped around him, perhaps a wider arc than was necessary. And Lester saw her in that moment, and though his brain had been shaken by the nightstick, he was still able to draw the connection to the photo he knew so well. “Samantha,” he called to her, but the woman continued walking and did not look back.

     “You’re going to like it here, Comet,” Samantha told the golden retriever. She then introduced Comet to the other forty-three dogs, before taking a much-needed rest.

(Copyright 2018 Michael Doherty)

(Note: I wrote this story on January 9th, while at work, and made just a few slight changes on January 16th, while at home.)