Sweet Sorrow
Chapter 4
Three days of hard work had awaited Don before his due days off. Turning over blearily on the first morning off, he cracked an eyelid at the alarm clock by the bed and huffed. Dragging covers over his head he determinedly screwed his gritty eyes shut again. The curse of odd sleep patterns was the inability to sleep past five or six hours at a time. He ignored the not so subtle nudging in his back for a while before he ventured from under the sanctuary of his duvet again and turned his head towards his tormentor.
"It's 6.30 am" he told the endearing eyes that looked at him "And my day off, not a damned chance"
Sweetie reached out her nose and licked the tip of his chin, her tail waving softly.
"An' I don't care how cute you are" he added.
The dog rolled onto her back and stretched, her jowls following gravity and making her whole face smile as she writhed on her back, groaning and sneezing.
"You're an idiot" he said fondly and at his voice she flung herself back over and crawled towards him, giving a final sneeze in his face.
Don withdrew an arm from the covers and wiped his face in disgust.
"Thanks" he said dryly "Dog snot, how charming"
In reply Sweetie lay her head on his chest and gazed up at him, and not for the first time Don felt humbled and grateful for the complete trust that shone in her eyes. A lot of people depended on him in one form or another, his sister for support, his gran for the odd jobs and to satisfy her mothering need. Mac and the team for his knowledge and skills as a police officer, the general public to keep them safe from the monsters that roamed the streets. But all those came with the conditions of responsibility, that he look, speak and behave in a certain way. The dog required nothing from him in return for her love, just that he be there. Of course she required certain things to keep her well and healthy, and he provided them willingly, but ultimately he knew, sadly from professional experience, that even if he didn't feed her, didn't walk her, didn't show her any affection, she'd still be loyal to him.
She didn't care if he didn't shower or shave for days, or if he only ate pizza and drank beer for a week. The dirty dishes in the sink, the inch of dust that adorned everything and the laundry basket spewing it's content across his bedroom didn't concern her. She didn't care what he watched on TV, if he crashed on the sofa in his work clothes or if he gave in to the temptation of the odd cigarette. She was always pleased to see him, and pleased he was there.
He stroked the top of her head gently and her soft ears as he lay, and she sighed in deep contentment, an action that Don mirrored.
Her presence also prevented him from waking alone each morning, and still 5 years on, remembering why and contemplating what each morning may have brought had things been different.
…...
Opening his eyes and immediately shading them from the glare of the sun, Don realised that he must have slept again. The bedroom felt stuffy and too hot and there was a notable absence next to him.
Swinging out of bed he padded through to the living area and saw the reason for the absence. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and watched as Sweetie crawled towards him with her ears flattened and her tail tucked beneath her, finally reaching him and rolling over in an act of ultimate submission.
"It's OK" he sighed, bending to scratch her bared tummy "It's my fault"
She licked his hand grateful that he wasn't angry but still slinked along just out of range as she watched him clean up the mess with guilty eyes.
Throwing open the balcony doors he took some juice out and the subdued dog followed him, laying at his feet as he sat down and took in the almost midday New York sky line.
"Well we missed the hot blonde and the hunky Sampson" he told her "Maybe tomorrow huh?"
He pulled a face as Sweetie suddenly jumped to her feet and scrambled across his own bare ones, her nose trying to shift the plant pot that Don had put in front of the hole again as her whole body wagged. She whined a few times and pawed at it in frustration.
His eyes widened as the pot started to move away from the hole and the dog wriggled closer, her wagging became more ecstatic as she had more access.
"Hey there" he heard a voice greet her "How you doin' huh?"
Don wasn't sure what to do. He'd assumed that the dog moved the planter, but now he had evidence that she wasn't the only culprit. It would seem the woman next door was a willing accomplice. He frowned as Sweetie pulled back and saw what appeared to be bread and bacon in her mouth as she chewed and swallowed, surging forward again as the voice next door cooed at her.
He felt he should be annoyed that someone else was feeding his dog God knows what, what if she were allergic? What if she had to follow a strict diet? She was his dog, and he wasn't sure he wanted to share. But he remained silent and still, interested to see what followed.
He thought that really, he couldn't complain about her being fed human food, wasn't his veterinarian always complaining that the dog was over weight and her teeth not the greatest? Although Don denied it, he knew himself that the reason was what he fed her. Alongside her (in his opinion) stupidly expensive, but highly recommended complete dog food, Sweetie enjoyed pizza, chips and dips, pasta, cake, sandwiches, donuts...well whatever he ate himself. He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't resist her pleading eyes, nor the thought that he was once again eating a lonely meal, and even if it was just his dog, he had a meal companion.
"No" he heard his neighbour say "No more today"
"You know" Don spoke finally "You keep feedin' her an' you'll never get rid of her"
A silence followed, filled with awkwardness.
"I'm sorry" Megan replied "I shouldn't...I shouldn't feed her without asking"
"It's fine" he answered "Bacon is probably a damned sight healthier than what I feed her sometimes"
It wasn't fine, Don thought, but apart from not wanting to fall out with a neighbour, he would feel like a little old woman complaining about something so trivial.
"But next time you have a bacon sandwich goin' beggin'" he added "I wouldn't mind first refusal"
He heard a short laugh before she answered "You gonna crawl through the hole an' look at me like you never been fed too?"
"I could" he answered with a laugh "But like the dog, it'd be an act, because I do get fed"
"I know" the reply came quickly, and in a conciliatory tone "I don't give her it because I think she's hungry, it's because I don't want it"
Don frowned, what an odd thing to say "Then why make it?" he asked.
"I don't" he heard a sound that indicated she'd sat on something on her own balcony "My mom brings me one every morning on her way to work. Says I don't eat since...these days"
"Can't you just ask her not to?" he probed, not entirely sure why.
"It's not worth the lecture" she sighed "And I can't bin it because even though she thinks I don't know, she checks my garbage pail in the kitchen"
Don's mouth opened in shock "Why?!"
"For bottles" she answered quietly "Because apparently I drink too much too"
"You are over 21 right?" Don asked, partly joking and partly serious.
"Well and truly" she replied "I'm 25, and until a fortnight ago, a married woman"
The memory of what she'd told him a few days before hit him and he didn't answer for a long moment.
"25 isn't well and truly over 21" he finally replied "Now me, I'm well and truly over 21"
"I feel a hundred and 25" came the response, in a voice so flat it registered nothing.
What could he say? I'm sorry for your loss? It'll pass? Be positive? He was saved the trouble of useless platitudes when she spoke again.
"Anyway" her voice now had a determined quality "I'm sorry for feeding the dog, I won't do it any more if it bothers you"
"Feel free" he said quietly "She certainly doesn't mind"
"Thank you"
And then he heard her door shut softly and Sweetie stood for a few moments before turning and laying by his feet again.
All traces of indignation were gone now. Don felt desperately sorry for the woman next door. He knew that giving away her breakfast was more than just needing to destroy the evidence, it was about control. It was a small amount of control in her life when everything else was spiralling away. Don may not know her, may not know her life or anything about her except she'd lost someone she loved, but he knew about needing that control. However small the action may be, it served as a comfort that there was something you could control still.
Draining his glass Don stood and went back into the apartment, he felt a little disturbed at the thoughts now crowding his head and decided that he needed to get out and think about something else.
…...
My apologies for erratic updates, my life is ridiculously busy at the moment! I'll U/D when times allows. Thanks to you that are reading, following and to Smuffly for the reviews :) they are greatly appreciated.
