Every Dog Travels with their Owner

CW: Mental illness and suicide

Funerals tend to be uncomfortable experiences; I know that’s something that isn’t unique or special to me.  The funeral director building is well lit, the room has an almost heavenly glow about it, all the lights beckoning, beaming from above. I’m sitting in the front row with my mother and father-in-law, I shared their pain, they were just as much family to me as anybody could be, I nervously fidget with the pamphlet they give you at the entrance almost as if I was selfishly passing the time. About thirty, maybe forty people are filling the seats of the hall, mostly people I didn’t even know. A lot of women, some high school friends maybe? Of course they would be, I’m just overthinking it.

If they were the ones with him, he would probably still be alive.

‘Nick was beloved by all his family and his life partner Mary...’

I snapped to attention, raising my back straight, fixing my posture in an effort not to lose concentration on the funeral director’s speech. I looked tentatively down at the pamphlet,

‘In memory of Nicholas James Holding, beloved husband of Mary, son of Johnathon and Selina. May he finally find the peace he sought.’

He looked so happy in the picture that was on the front of the pamphlet. It was a picture from our honeymoon, the two of us in front of a museum exhibition, I think it was on music from the 70’s, or was it the 80’s? Why can’t I seem to remember? Why can’t I give him even that?

You can’t even do that right.

I nervously raise my head to look up at the casket, my hands still racing along the paper and my right heel furiously tapping the ground. It was an open casket funeral; I couldn’t quite see him over the side of the coffin, but next to it, looking up, was his black dog. It was a large, shaggy looking thing, it always looked angry, ravenous, but now it just sat there, an unfeeling statue. It was not unlike a Labrador, but I was never entirely sure. We both had one, his black dog always followed him everywhere.

And mine similarly remained by my side.

I looked to my right and sure enough, there he was, my own dog. He was staring directly at me, his warm, piercing yellow eyes, not unlike an abyss, studying me. I wanted to forget he was there, at least for today.

‘We shall now take a moment to listen to Nicholas’ favourite piece of music, as chosen by his wife Mary, at the end of the piece we invite her to come to speak of her love for her husband.’

I shake with nervous anticipation, the song begins playing and I unintentionally make awkward eye contact with my dog, I see a sickening smile and a slight showing of sharp yellow teeth. I tear my gaze away and start to stand, feeling faint as I do so. I hesitantly stumble toward the casket, I wanted to see him before I spoke about him, I needed to.

You’re going to fuck this up.

I look down upon him, his face white, his neck still bruised from the rope that he used to take his own life. But just like everyone else here, I had no idea why. I put my hand on his, it’s cold, it couldn’t be his hand.

It simply couldn’t.

His dog sits beside me, he doesn’t move, seeming more like a taxidermized doll than a dog. I can hear the song ending, as it does, I mouth the final line of the song to him before moving up to the speaking podium.

‘May you never be broken again.’

I make my way to the podium and take a deep breath, the various faces looking up at me. Always expecting more than I can give. My dog looking toward me eagerly, I begin to speak, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

‘Funerals are always uncomfortable experiences. The most ironic part of a funeral is that the most important person at one is never there...’

***

I lie curled up in my bed, not sleeping, just lying there, the covers weighing down upon me. The bed feels so much bigger lately, a black hole that I lie on. My room is dark, but I can make out the shapes that made it up. A strand of my own hair is stuck in my left eye, I desperately want to move my arms to get it out but can’t muster up the energy to do it, or maybe I simply can’t be bothered to get the hair out, I’m not sure. I’m still exhausted from the wake, everyone reminding me how beloved Nick was, my cheeks still in pain from forcing myself to fake a smile. My dog sits up straight at the end of my bed, standing strong, guarding me against sleep. It’s times like these when I’m alone at night that’s he scares me the most. Because that’s when he starts speaking.

And now you’re all alone.

I want to tell him to shut up, to just curl up somewhere and die.

You useless cunt, you shouldn’t even be sad that he’s dead, that’s selfish, is that any way to honour someone?

I couldn’t say the dog was wrong, it did feel wrong. I feel selfish, like I should be happy, but as I lie there, I ask myself how it’s even possible. I feel my dog walking over me, each step pushing me further down. He lies down along my torso, not giving me a chance to move or get up. The hair in my eye still causing me discomfort.

And now you are alone, what will you do?

‘I don’t know.’

I thought about how Nick would handle himself during situations like this. I tried inhaling deeply, through the nose and out the mouth, I think it was ten seconds for each. Ten seconds in, feels like the whole world passes by within that time frame. Ten seconds out, feels like the world could end and I wouldn’t even know it.

Even if the world did end, it would be irrelevant whether you were in it or not.

Nick’s pillow sat adjacent to my head, my fingers creep towards it and they pull it towards my chest. I want to cry, but my eyes remain dry. I want to feel something, anything.

How are you so incapable of feeling even such a simple emotion as sadness?

I see my dog in the corner of my vision, snarling with delight.

‘Just shut up, of course I feel something, my husband just died, how could I not?’

You should be aware by now that I know you better than that.

His words in my head are like poison. I feel anger well up in my stomach, a disgusting feeling that makes me feel sick in a part of my body that I wasn’t previously even aware of. Ten seconds in, ten seconds out. The feeling subsides and I calculate my response.

‘I can prove to both of us that isn’t true.’

Oh?

‘I loved Nick, that much I know. And on top of that, I want to be happy. Who doesn’t? Shouldn’t I wanting to be happy prove that I’m capable of being able to feel?’

The dog simply chuckled. I needed a way to get him off of me, I go to raise my body, rise up above my bed, but his weight keeps me down.

You will always be beat down.

My eye is still irritated from my hair, I should’ve moved it when I grabbed the pillow, now I don’t even know if I’m capable of straining my body that much. I expected to wake up any second, I didn’t want to admit that something that felt like a nightmare was in fact reality.

“You know, I am going to be happy again. Then I won’t need you anymore.”

If that is what you truly believe, then why am I still here? Why have I been with you for so, so long?

I didn’t have a response, I feel angry. Or is it upset? in all honesty I don’t know what it is I feel. In that same sense I feel nothing at all.

You feel nothing because you are nothing. You couldn’t help Nicholas and now you can’t even help yourself.

I feel something now, despair, towards my dog but also towards my inner self. I feel useless, I still can’t find the energy to get that hair out of my eye. Despite this I close my eyes, my dog still weighing heavily upon me. I want to fall asleep, forget that the world around me exists in any capacity, escaping into my own. I try to remember how Nick would try and get himself into a state where he could fall asleep. I notice that my jaw is tightly clenched, I loosen it and instantly feel a relieving sense of pain. Ten seconds breathing in, ten seconds breathing out. My dog suddenly feels heavier, putting what feels like all his weight upon me, pushing me down further and further into my black bedsheets.

No, not yet, you don’t get to sleep, we’re going to talk some more.

‘For fuck’s sake, no, just let me sleep. I just want to be at peace.’

Like Nick?

‘Fuck you. What do you know?’

You don’t deserve peace, he didn’t even love you, or he wouldn’t have left you. Nobody will ever love you, you are nothing and you should resolve to be nothing.

No, that was wrong, he was my husband, he did love me. Based on that alone, my dog was wrong, I couldn’t be nothing, I can’t be nothing. Even if Nick is gone, I’m still here. Even if the room I’m in is dark I can make out the shapes within, meaning that there must be at least some light in here. I breathe in and out for ten seconds for one last time before slowly navigating my hand to the hair in my eye. I pull it out from under the lid of my eye with the precision of a surgeon performing an important operation. The instant gratification found within the relief forces me to smile, if even for a little bit. It’s a start. My dog begins to feel lighter and I begin to push him off me as I lift myself up from my dark sheets.

And what is it you think you’re going to accomplish? You are alone, you have nobody.

Not even dignifying the mutt with a response, I crawl away from him towards the other side of the bed, I place my feet on the ground and begin walking towards the window nearby to look out the window to the world outside this dark room. My dog dashes in front of me, teeth glaring, desperation in his yellow eyes.

I am you, I will always be here, and you will listen to me.

Ignoring him, I take small, cautious steps, being careful not to disturb the ground beneath me. The sudden rush of ecstasy from being able to crack a small smile made every single step feel like a mile. I approach the window and look out, the sun is beginning to rise, I must have been up all night.

These feelings aren’t temporary, this is who you are!

On the windowsill lies the pamphlet from the funeral, slightly crumpled from my constant fidgeting. I pick it up and take a good look at it, using the small amount of light from outside to help me see. Nick is holding me; I can see pictures of rock artists like Van Halen and Led Zeppelin in the background from the exhibition.

With certainty I know now, it must have been music from the 70’s. My slight smile brightens as I remember that day fondly.

It’s not possible to get rid of me, I am stronger than you will ever be.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dog pathetically slinking off out of the room, avoiding the small amount of emerging light that is beginning to fill the room. I look on, toward the morning sun, clutching the pamphlet that acted as proof that I was happy. Despite wishing that Nick was able to see the sun with me, I think to myself deliberately considering each thought. Despite each day ending with the sun setting, every day also begins with light.

I quietly laugh to myself, ‘how stupid’ I think. But even still, it makes me happy. Through my tired eyes, I continue to watch the world wake up, enjoying the small moment of peace that I one day hope to find for both Nick and me going forward.