Bella Black, Survivor

It’s three in the afternoon, and Bella doesn’t know where her humans are. She hasn’t been sure of much ever since she was adopted from a Romanian shelter and brought to the UK. Just now, her adoptive humans left with no more than an “Okay, bye Bella! No, puppies can’t come this time.” Are they dead now? They’re probably dead now.

Bella, always a pragmatist, understands that there is little to do if those weird smelly humans and their stinky feet aren’t going to come back. She certainly can’t do anything about it if they are dead, which they almost definitely are. What she can do is sit in bed and wait.

For about an hour, Bella lays in bed, contemplating mortality. After all, her humans are nowhere to be seen, and that means she is not long for this world either. If they have died — and surely they have died — then she is next. Only they know how to open the plastic baggie full of food. Without her two scoops of kibble and one tin of wet food every day, she will never sustain herself. Bella closes her eyes and makes peace with this knowledge.

After meditating for another half hour, Bella stands up. Existence is fleeting, but that’s no reason to get bedsores. She turns in a circle and lays down on her other side. As she does, she spots her food bowl out of the corner of her eye and rejoices. They have left a paltry offering. She will live another few moments.

After eating what may be her final meal, she turns to her ever-faithful companion, Crinkly Monkey Toy. She wishes he were a better conversationalist, but alas, she will spend her last few hours in intellectual silence. Should she tell Crinkly Monkey Toy how she really feels? This could be her last chance. She pauses and looks into the distance, considering the potential consequences of these actions.

She decides not to speak her heart. She would rather Crinkly Monkey Toy think of her as a friend than risk ruining what they have. She rests her heavy head in bed next to him.

The refrigerator makes a sound. Bella springs out of bed and barks, in case that was the sound of it gaining sentience and planning an attack. The refrigerator goes quiet. Bella grumbles to herself and settles back down in bed. She nuzzles Crinkly Monkey Toy, apologising for startling him.

It starts getting dark. Bella can hardly see her own paws, but reaches one out anyway. She is greeted with a crinkle and is comforted by knowing that her beloved is still with her. She rests her head on her paws, accepting her fate. She considers her regrets. Why hadn’t she sniffed the smaller human’s toes just one more time? Were there more socks out there, just waiting to be found? Could she have collected them if she had only been a little braver? Ah, it matters not. Darkness encompasses her. Now there is naught but the passage of time.

Bella blinks at a sudden intrusion of light. Her humans are home, standing right there in the kitchen, and are saying something about how they “forgot to leave the light on for her” and “didn’t realise they’d be out so late.” Bella does not believe that they forgot to leave the light on for her. After all, the larger, smellier human is definitely a monster. He is the sort of monster who wouldn’t leave the light on for a little dog. He is the sort of monster who would lead her to believe that she was on her deathbed.

“In fact,” Bella thinks, “it is high time that I bark at him.”

And bark she does, until the smaller human approaches with shushing and treats, which Bella graciously accepts. Just like that, all becomes well in the world, at least for now. Bella and Crinkly Monkey Toy shall last another night.