Why you aren't who you think you are Part 1 - The Dog Made Me Do It
Michael was walking home. The balmy summer breeze ruffled his shaggy mop of hair as he absentmindedly kicked an unoffending pebble, making it skitter across the path in front of him. He was walking the way he always walked when the school bell rang & he was released from the somewhat constraining need to behave like an ant obeying the queen: Up the hill past the school, across the road & down past the flats where some of his friends lived. Then over the road, past the newly painted library with the snooty librarian who always sniffed disdainfully at him, like he hadn’t washed in a week, through the dilapidated playground, over the grassy field, through the back gate to slip into his house unnoticed.
Things had been strained at home recently. His mum & dad seemed to fight more than anything these days & Michael preferred to stay out of their way & immerse himself in a world he could control: Minecraft.
It didn't use to be that way.
He remembered when his dad used to take him out and kick the football with him. His dad said he was a natural. Though there was the time he had tried a Rabona kick. He had seen how cool & effortlessly the pros had done it but all Michael managed to do was kick his left leg out from under himself & land on his butt. How he had laughed! He had one of those infectious laughs & pretty soon his dad was doubled over too. They had caught each others eye then, just for a moment. A rush of warmth seemed to engulf Michaels' heart.
Then there was the first time he scored the winning goal! What a feeling! It had been one of those grey and drizzly Scottish days. The kind where it's not really raining but you get wet all the same. Michael remembered the comforting feeling of the mist on his face & the stillness of the air. It almost felt like the world paused for a moment as his father leaped up to cheer and his teammates surrounded him. It felt so good to be alive.
Michael ached for those days. He would’ve done anything to fix his parents so they could just go back to being happy. His mind continued to wander as his feet seemed to know where they were going, just like every other day.
Except today wasn’t like every other day.
Just as Michael was shuffling down past the flats, mentally preparing himself for what awaited him at home, a large black blur caught his attention a split second before pain shot through his hand. He looked down aghast & saw the white teeth & pinky red gums of Mr MacIntosh’s rescue dog sinking into the tendons of his hand. Somewhere in his mind he registered the sound of a low growl & felt the sticky wet dribbling sensation of slightly warm slobber tricking down & mingling with the blood. Dazed now & somewhat in shock he watched almost in slow motion as Mr MacIntosh prized the dog off him & wrestled him inside. Sinking to the ground, Michael reeled as he tried to understand what had just happened.
That was the moment.
To anyone else it may have just been a bit of a scare and a wound to clean up and be healed in a week.
But not for Michael.
Years passed.
Michael avoided dogs…he just didn’t like them he said… not an animal person he said.
Actually come to think of it, he wasn’t really a people person either….
Time passed & Michael found himself a job where he could work from home. Computers were the way forward. He could get his shopping delivered, date online (kind of… the dates where you chat and maybe call but never meet up… unless they came to his house) AND work from home! Perfect.
Except that it wasn’t perfect. Especially in summer… or when he heard a dog barking… Summer was when the migraines were the worst & his whole body seemed to shut down… he felt like a grizzly bear who didn’t know what season it was.
Then there was his weight. It wasn’t that he was eating all the time, though it definitely made him feel better…for a while. It’s just that he didn’t move much. Somehow the fat on his body was comforting. He could tell people he was going to lose weight before he felt ready to face the world or he could cancel last minute and say he had a migraine… or a back ache.
Someone asked him once “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Piss off” he’d said.
But it stuck with him….
Five years….
If he kept going the way he was going it didn’t look good. He didn’t want to think about it. But the thoughts kept coming unbidden.
Ugh! God he hated his life…he ate a donut and looked at the rain falling softly outside his lounge room window.
Was something different, even possible? He’d given up dreams of a career in football years ago…he couldn’t quite remember why… something about his parents getting divorced and it just not being the ‘right’ time.
For the first time in years he remembered that day playing footy with his dad and laughing…and that look. He remembered his winning goal and that feeling of being able to take on the world.
He remembered that he used to like people.
And in the quiet of his flat, where no one could see, he allowed himself to hope.
The character in this work is fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
