There I sat with my pup, Grinelda, on the rocking chair, swaying back and forth. She’d occasionally look up, tugging lightly at my beard with her small teeth. I loved her as if she were my own flesh and blood, though some say it’s wrong to care so deeply for an animal. But I’d never sell my pup to FCD, the Federal Canine Detention—not for any amount of money. They’d just run tests on her. Grinelda, by pedigree, is a Dalmatian, with two spots around her eyes that sometimes make it hard to tell if her eyes are open or closed.
As I watched, Grinelda stretched her small arms and leapt off my lap. She stood on her two hind legs, stretching them, too; she’d be about the size of an eight-year-old child. Since her fur’s a bit thin, I dress her in a lovely sundress. Tail wagging, she trotted into the cramped kitchen. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.
I jolted, an involuntary “eiiiaaah” escaping my lips. Grinelda, spooked, dashed back to me, growling at the door. I stood up, leaving the rocking chair swaying behind me. Cautiously, I approached the door, gesturing for Grinelda to sit. Through the peephole, I saw a man standing in the hallway, dressed in bloody rags, covered in scars. He twisted his curly mustache, his eyes twitching with some twisted pleasure. It was clear he’d been attacked, but by whom—or what?
Could there be another Caninevolved in the complex? No, it couldn’t be… if there was, the FCD would already be here. If they found him, they’d take Grinelda away, especially with him so close.
I bit my tongue, weighing the options. Crime was common enough in this building—maybe he was just a victim of some gang or syndicate. I couldn’t take the risk, though, so I decided to ignore the door. But as I turned to leave, I saw, to my horror, Grinelda letting him in.
“Thank you, good pup,” he muttered, stepping over the threshold. Dismayed, I slammed the door behind him and scolded her.
“Grinelda, what did I teach you about letting strangers into our home?”
A ceiling board fell behind me as I raised my voice, another reminder of this place falling apart. The man had made himself comfortable in my rocking chair, settling in as if it were his own.
“But, Master, I smelled blood,” Grinelda said, making a little frown that only a parent could love. But I wasn’t a parent; I was just a dog owner. A dog owner of a Caninevolved. And suddenly, the fragile sense of safety I clung to was unraveling, fast. We were all going to die. I knew it. Couldn’t I have just one day of peace?
I covered my eyes, trying to think of what to do. I felt a familiar nudge against my thigh—Grinelda, hugging me tightly.
“I’m sorry for disobeying, Master,” she said softly, and for a moment, it felt like one of those math problems I could never solve in high school, one of those messy equations that left me stuck.
“Are you okay?” asked the stranger, jolting me out of my thoughts. His look of concern was oddly disarming. “Is there anything I can help with?”
Grinelda watched me, waiting for a response, but I stayed silent.
“I’ll get the gauze and band-aids,” she said, trotting into the kitchen. I watched her go, still processing the situation.
“Why do you do that?” the stranger asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
“Do what?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Treat her like a pet when she’s not.”
“Because that’s what she is,” I replied, and the stranger gave me a hard look as he rocked in the chair.
“Would it be better if I treated her like a human?” I challenged, but he shook his head.
“How rude. She’s a Caninevolved, right? Then treat her as such.”
“What is a Caninevolved?” I asked, indignant. “They come from dogs, don’t they? So shouldn’t we treat them as such?”
The stranger leaned forward. “Let me show you something, boy,” he said, and at first, I didn’t understand. But then, he brushed back his hair, revealing his ears—pointed and twitching. I’d been deceived. He was a Caninevolved too.
Suddenly, a heavy pounding sounded at the door. The man quickly hid behind the chair, and I peered through the peephole. Three men in black suits stood there, each wearing earpieces. Grinelda returned, holding the bandages, and began stitching up the stranger’s wounds.
“Mister Wallace,” a voice called out from behind the door. “This is the FCD. We have reason to believe you’re harboring a Caninevolved that attacked a colleague of ours. Hand over the freak.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. This was the government; I had to comply. But what if they took Grinelda, too? My eyes flicked toward my rifle. After finishing with the stranger’s wounds, Grinelda fetched it and brought it to me.
“Listen, Mister Wallace, you’re down to your final warning,” came the voice, the pounding louder than ever. Gripping the rifle, I kneeled beside Grinelda, knowing full well I was about to do something reckless.
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I looked into her eyes. “You’re important to me, understand? And I always knew this day might come. So, don’t hate me for this, but you have to leave now.”
She looked puzzled as the words sunk in, and I brushed her hair back. “Do you want me to leave with him?” she asked, glancing at the other Caninevolved. I nodded and kissed her forehead. The stranger climbed out the window, and Grinelda followed.
I turned back to the door, rifle aimed, hoping to hold off the FCD long enough for them to escape. “Goodbye, Master,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.
BANG! The shot rang out suddenly, and I staggered back, pain exploding through my shoulder. The men in black stormed into the apartment, searching frantically, but my laughter filled the room as they realized she was gone. One of them pointed his gun at me, and the last thing I saw was the barrel descending as he pulled the trigger, again and again.
Now, I watch from above, the apartment silent once more.
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