Hang

by Rachel Agius
Illustration by Daniela Attard

Spinning spinning spinning but He would not come down. Henry looked up at Him, a broad smile on his face. Henry loved Him. More than anything in the world. More than his ball. More than The Woman. More than The Child. Henry did nothing but love Him. He waited for Him behind the door every day. He thought about Him constantly, wondering when they would go to the park or to Old One next. He was the center of Henry’s world. They were alone at home. The Woman and The Child had gone somewhere but Henry did not miss them. He had Him. Henry barked impatiently. Then he realized that maybe this was a game. Henry sat down, his tan eyebrows knitting above his nose as he focused, waiting for His word. Maybe He was going to run and Henry had to chase him. Or maybe He had a biscuit in His pocket and Henry would have to be patient and then He would give it to him. Henry loved biscuits, particularly when they were a reward from Him. For the longest time, Henry tried to keep still. But before he could control it, his tail began to wag. Then he got up, sorry that he could not wait longer. Henry barked again. He sniffed His shoes, dangling above the ground. They smelled like grass and tar and the car and other dogs. Henry didn’t mind that one bit. Henry liked it when they met new dogs to play with. Henry reached up and put his front paws on His knees. Still, He did not say anything, only swung, creaking, from side to side. Henry sat again. Maybe He was mad at Henry. Henry barked in frustration. He had not done anything wrong. Maybe it was Cat again, making mischief and then disappearing so that Henry would get scolded. But he had not done anything! Henry stopped barking. He did not seem angry. He was still quiet. Finally tired, Henry lay down beneath Him, who was still swinging gently, and wondered whether they were going somewhere new, somewhere special. See, He already had on a collar and leash.

***

Rachel Agius writes short stories occasionally, often at odd hours and always odd. She’s a pen-for-hire and accepts payment in karma and most forms of processed sugar.

Daniella Attard – aka ‘iella’ is a ’89 kid, typically at the back of the class doodling, not paying any attention. Often seen smearing paint on walls, iella is dependent on caffeine and runs on lack of sleep.