Dog's Days
    by  RB Ham
 
    The mahogany door creaked open, and the shadow from the light in the hallway loomed angularly
inside, dust particles swarming. It had been a while, the old man thought to himself as he stepped into
the room. He smiled. There was the still form, swaddled in bedding. How serene his son seemed at
that moment. He sat on the foot of the bed and bent over, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.
 
    "Son,  I have come to talk."
   He heard his son's voice,"Hello, father, are you troubled?"
    The old man paused. His son's voice seemed different, somehow. Maybe the Soul Sickness had
taken hold of him anyhow. Despite his precautions. He needed reassurance.
 
    "Yes, son. I am worried that you have not gotten better. Maybe we should have asked your mother's advice..."
    His voice faltered,"...beforehand."
    "But, father..." That same distant tone,"...mother died."
    "Yes, I know!" The old man spat, immediately concerned that his reaction was mean-spirited.
    "I'm sorry, son. I prayed for alot of things, I just couldn't bring myself to..."
    "It's alright. You know I Love you. Always." An echo? The old man started.
    His son's voice."Can you Love yourself? Father?"
 
    His son had not moved, the old man whispered,"Go back to sleep, son." Then he shuffled to the
open door, he did not look back as he leaned his forehead against the jamb.
    "How is it I still hear you?" The old man did not know if he should be afraid, he had become resigned.
    "As Abraham may have heard Issac." The son's voice, louder this time, continued. "Yet, in the end,
the Lord stayed Abraham's hand. But his intent was sure, his aim true. He was willing to sacrifice his
own son for the Lord. To prove what?"
    "Obediance. Fealty. Duty." The old man looked back furtively,"As God himself sacrificed his own
begotten son. To die for our sins. I read the good book every day, pray all night. And this is the best
course. The Lord spoke to me, it was a miracle. It could be a test of all our sins." He was sweating
now, his stomach felt a little queasy.
    "I'll come back soon, son. You rest. Get better."
 
    The mahogany door closed, firmly. The sound echoed in the room. In that echo you could vaguely
here 'g'night father', but your eyes were diverted by a small form climbing up the side of the bed. Yet
you kept still , curled up on the area rug on the floor.
    You growled, and the rat ran away, under the bed. Issuing a hissy squeal in your direction
as it skittered out of sight. Not that it mattered, the bones had been picked clean long ago.
But it was a rat,and you were a dog.
 
 It's what dogs do.
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