Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY

            His name is Lazarus, Lazzy for short.  At least that is what I'm deciding to call him for now.  I like the name, and the symbolism behind it makes me smile.  Unfortunately, I'm not too sure he knows it’s his name.

            Then again, I don't think name recognition is currently the pup's biggest priority.  Surviving my - let's call it an "assault" on him - is his foremost need.  Once I can get him up and moving around, then we'll focus on responding when I call his name.

            The dog chow seems to be old, but I don't think he cares.  I suspect he's not had much of anything to eat lately, so any food (even old, disgusting once-belonged-to-a-now-deceased-dog chow) must be better than his previous scraps.

            I realize in my haste to leave the house's kitchen that I neglected to procure any type of bowl for him to eat out of.  Without anything clean to pour the food into, I decide to just use my hand.  Scooping my hand into the crinkly bag, I pull out a small pile and offer it to him.  A quick sniff later (All I got from the food when I sniffed it was a sense of staleness.  I hope his nose offers him something more appetizing.) and his mouth quickly covers the small collection of liver and fish-flavored food pebbles (Dogs really eat this?) and vacuums them up.  Moments later the food is gone, and he stares up at me with big brown eyes.

            "More?" I ask him, and in answer he just tilts his head at me and nudges my empty palm with his nose.

            Smiling, I dig out another handful of the grainy food and offer it to him.  The second handful disappears almost as quickly as the first one.

            We continue this pattern through half a dozen more handfuls before he finally seems to wear out.  Petting his head as he lays it on my lap, I listen to his wheezy breathing even out.  It's relaxing.

            Having never had a pet growing up I'm not used to the sublime happiness that can happen when another creature trusts you enough to sleep on you.  This dog (That I very recently attempted to kill.  He seems to have forgotten this, but I certainly haven't.) is trusting me to watch out for it while it is unconscious and defenseless.  Under normal circumstances, that would be simply impressive given its obvious history with malnourishment and street life.  But I am no longer an example of normal circumstances, so this becomes even more amazing.

            Lightly running my fingers through his shaggy coat, I smooth out the burrs and blemishes I find.  Even when I find a nasty tangle in his fur and have to dig it out with my fingers, he barely stirs.  He is dead to the world (Although that does strike me as a poor choice of words.) right now.

            I don't have the heart to move him, and I'm happier than I've been in a long time so I just lean my head back against the wall and enjoy the moment.

            "I can do this," I tell myself.  I'm not really sure what has happened to me this past week, but I will be strong enough to survive it.  "I am stronger than whatever this is, and I will beat it."

            Sighing (Those were big words coming from a scared kid, but sometimes I can convince myself with my declarations.  Sometimes.), I look around the warehouse and notice it is getting lighter around me.

            "Going to be morning soon," I whisper to my sleeping (and only) companion.  "What am I going to do today?"

            In response to my question, Lazzy snuffles deeply and wiggles himself even tighter against my small frame.