Colin eyed the mewling puppy with distrust.
"I don't know, Mom," he sighed.
The puppy, named Pom-Pom, was an English Bulldog, jowly and slack-eyed just eight weeks into existence. It gnawed on the cuff of Colin's jeans.
"Say ow and pull away," said Colin's mother. "Remember? We have to teach it not to bite us."
"Ow," said Colin flatly, pushing the fleshy dog away with the tip of his finger. "I'm just... what about Casper and Ellie and Dexter?"
Colin's mother was named Marie. She had curly black hair and a spray of pale pink freckles bleeding out from her nose and crossing down towards her neck. "Casper, Elle, and Dex are gone, honey. You know that. We're all very sad they're gone, but it's okay to move on. It's okay to like Pom-Pom. I don't think they'll mind."
"I don't know," said Colin. But there wasn't much more to say about it, so he scooped up Pom-Pom and cradled the puppy in his arms. Probably they wouldn't mind, he thought. Probably. And then Pom-Pom bit his finger and Colin didn't have to pretend to be hurt.
Two days later, Colin told his father he was trying out for the boy's soccer team after school, so he'd be late. His father had been a baseball player growing up, but any sport was better than no sport, so he nodded and said, 'Good luck."
Colin, however, had no interest in soccer. Instead, the appearance of Pom-Pom had raised a deep, guilty sadness within the boy. He'd reneged on a promise. He'd been negligent.
So after school he got off at John Vivek's house and walked down Miller towards Nebraska Ave. He'd managed to never forget the address - 315 Nebraska - though he was pretty certain he'd be able to find the house regardless. And sure enough, there it was - still that pale purple color with the black shutters closed tight on every window. It hadn't changed, not even a little. The shrubs that lined the walkway were still patchy and dry and sharp as knives. Colin walked carefully up to the front door. He worried, belatedly, if the old woman would even remember him. Would she scold him for forgetting? For staying away so long?
Colin may have been forgetful, but he was brave, too, and knew when he had to take his lumps. He pressed the doorbell and stood back.
The bell echoed like a banging gong inside the house. Then there was a cacophony of barks and yips and growls. Colin jumped at the sheer volume of competing noises. He almost turned and ran, but then a voice inside bellowed out Quiet! and the noise died away and the door opened slowly.
"Yes?" Colin could just see the one eye peeking through the crack. It was white and murky, like dirty water, surrounded by crumpling layers of red and yellow flesh.
"Hi," said Colin. "I'm... I'm Colin Raheem. I'm... I was hoping I could see Casper, Ellie, and Dexter."
"Colin?" said the old woman slowly. "Ah. Ah, yes. I remember. You've been away a long time. Your children were getting worried you'd forgotten them."
"No, no never," said Colin hastily. "I've just been... been busy. Are they okay?"
The old woman chuckled. "Right as rain, child. I told you I'd watch over them. I watch over all of them that comes to stay in my house. You wanna visit for a spell you said?"
"Yes," said Colin, even as his insides told him he shouldn't and he began to remember why he'd been so bad about visiting. "I'd like to say hi if that's alright."
"Well, they'll be pleased to see you," said the old woman. "I told before, you ought to come by as often as you can." She pulled the door open wider. Colin couldn't help but stare. She'd always been old, from the first moment he'd met her, in the little cemetery way back behind the duck pond. He'd been crying over the fresh lump of upturned soil and flat stone that marked Casper's burial mound when she'd appeared, as if from nowhere, to make her offer. It had seemed so wrong and strange to Colin then, but he missed his dog. Perhaps too dearly. So he'd agreed and she'd told him to leave the cemetery and given him the address: 315 Nebraska.
"Come and visit any time," she'd said.
She'd been old that day in the cemetery, but now she was even older. That made sense, Colin reminded himself. People got older. But the old lady seemed worse off, somehow. Like the flesh was trying to crawl off her body. Like the bones beneath had some other place to be.
"Casper, baby," she called. "Ellie. Dexter."
Colin looked down at the dogs and cats and hamsters and parrots and other assorted animals that roamed throughout the house. They all looked a bit like the old woman - wrong somehow. Hanging together by a thread. Their eyes were just a bit too dim. Their flesh a bit too slack and dry. The hair too brittle.
"Here's a good boy," said the old lady and Colin turned back to look. It was Casper.
"How long has it been?" asked the old lady.
Colin swallowed. "A year. Maybe two."
Casper's long, white tail wagged heartily as the dog lumbered forward. His eyes were nearly clear, filmed over in a dark, dripping fluid. His teeth were gone, his gums black and purple. There was a ragged crater on his left side, gray puckered flesh leading down to broken yellow bones and weakly pulsing greenish-black organs.
The dog rubbed its head against Colin's thighs, flecks of white hair and yellow skin peeling off, floating down like winter snow. The boy put a cautious hand to the dog's head and felt how cold and clammy the thing was.
"And here's two more," said the old woman joyfully. Ellie and Dexter bounded into the room. A pug and a puggle, they both looked more like flayed moles than dogs. The flesh of their faces had collapsed down over their eyes, leaving both blind and nearly featureless. Dexter dragged a rotten stump of a hind left leg. The better part of Ellie's insides hung from a gaping hole in her chest cavity, dragging along the thin carpet.
"Just as you remember them," said the old woman. "What a happy reunion."
Finally, Colin screamed at the horror of what he'd done. He turned to run and tripped over Casper's living carcass, falling hard to the ground. His pets swarmed him happily. Lapping his face with dry, cold tongues. Grinding their decaying flesh against his flailing arms and chest. Colin curled into a ball and covered his face.
The other dogs caught the excitement and started barking. Cats howled. Parrots squawked.
"Oh, how I love to see a boy and his pets," cried the old woman over the growing clamor of dead animal voices. "Nuthin' more beautiful in the world! Nuthin' at all!"
This is one of Sarikka's favorite stories of mine. She thinks it is "very funny".
I love Sarikka very much, but sometimes she concerns me greatly.