Cerberus’s Epilogue #2
One morning He says He needs my help, and I am bursting with joy because He smells like excitement, buttered popcorn and snacks, and like sex.
They mated last night, but I wasn’t in the room, even though I could smell and hear them.
They both smell sweet like caramel and my favorite tree in the yard, pleasure and poignant delight.
He ties paper around my neck and sends me in to see Her and I know my job is very important.
She cries and hugs me, and when He comes in, they kiss and smell like promises, the delectable scent of fresh baked cookies and old books.
I get to wear a special collar and fly on the plane with them to a place where they stand together with a strange man He tells me not to worry about, and then we fly home and they are so happy it reeks of their combined scents, His dark and earthy, hers bright and flowery, and together, like sweet syrup and cozy beds on a cold day.
I am unbelievably happy, because I think this means She is staying with us for good.
But something happens, and He comes home without Her one day.
I’m confused. He smells like regret and anger, sour milk and stale bread.
Days go by without Her while my He drinks his stinging liquid in the den and I feel like I’ve lost something.
It’s more distressing than losing my favorite ball, so I know this is bad.
I do something else I know better than and poop in His kitchen.
It’s big and messy. My stomach has been hurting since She left and I knew this would be a bad one.
I hide when He comes home, but He doesn’t yell or scold me, and we ignore each other the rest of the night.
I can’t look at Him, and when I do, I feel both shamed and unhappy.
I feel listless and sad, finding no joy in being with Him if She isn’t a part of our lives, too.
I hope He makes it right. I know I can help.
He takes me on a plane again, and there is hope to His scent this time. It smells of the sunrise and dew drops on blades of grass, it’s poised for success or failure, and I really hope whatever it is makes him Happy and brings Her home to us.
I have another paper tied around my neck and He tells me to sit like a good boy at a strange door that smells of takeout food and many people, but I can smell Her among the mix of scents, and it makes me so excited I can barely stay sitting.
“Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. You’re a sight for sore eyes, big guy,” She whispers when she opens the door.
My tail thumps the mat as She runs Her hands over my fur and kisses my head.
She drops to Her knees in front of me and takes the paper from around my neck.
She looks at it for a while, laughs and pets me again, and then looks at me with a confused scent, her flowers twisted with cotton candy, hopeful and sweet.
“Apologize,” She commands softly.
I sit back on my haunches, lifting my front paws and sing out, my howls loud and deep, adding in a bark to tell Her how much I’ve missed Her.
She stops me quickly, Her eyes wide and startled.
I rush in and give Her kisses and nuzzle Her face now that I have Her back.
I can’t get close enough to Her, but I try, wiggling in close and sitting in Her lap.
She laughs, but grows sober when He steps forward.
They go inside, taking me with them, and another person comes out.
I stare at them intently, judging if they will hurt my people, but She tells me they are a friend and I have to lie down.
When the new person leaves, they speak together while She pets my head and I finally feel whole again after missing Her so much.
The ache was worse than when I get shots at the vet.
They kiss, and I know we will be a family again.
Our days take on a new rhythm, and I grow accustomed to having them both home until they take me to a new house, with old smells, that makes Her light up when She walks around it, and Him beam at Her happiness.
Sometimes She comes to me with tears, salty and astringent, other times She’s so happy I think we both might burst from her excitement. The new house is full of emotions.
One day, He puts the fancy collar on me again, the bow sitting at my throat and making me feel regal.
We go to a place filled of plants, with warm, musty smells, and full of people.
I see some I know and others who are strangers.
He has me settle by His side until She comes to us, in a pretty, long dress, with a big smile on Her face.
They clasp hands and their scents add to the flowers and plants, swirling and mixing until they are indistinguishable, and I sigh at their happiness.
This is what He has always needed, and He is what She wants more than anything.
Our lives feel perfect, now. They are a team, and I keep them safe.
Only, one day, I notice something different about Her.
She smells not like herself and I can’t stop sticking my head into Her belly, breathing hard, trying to figure out what the new smell is.
They go away for a few days, and when they return, it’s with a tiny She that they hold tightly and let me sniff and lick ever so gently.
This new She is the new scent I have been pondering for a long time, and I love Her. She is mine now.