Just when I think I have completely lost my sanity and should kill myself while I still have the dignity and the autonomy to die on my own terms, I feel something warm on my knee and hear a plaintive whine.
The spirit of the pit bull is kinda standing next to me, kinda leaning on me, in that way that dogs do when they want your attention but are still too proud to ask for it. His flesh is flame. His bones are black. The spectral collar hangs loose around his neck. The token that marks him as mine swings freely in and out the nebulous flesh. He can remove the collar and token at any time. He’s not bound to me. He remains because he has chosen to remain.
He shifts his head and lets the weight rest fully on my knee. His eye sockets are empty, but I know the gesture and the look he would be giving me if he was alive. He knows something is wrong, doesn’t know how to fix it, and is showing his sympathy and solidarity.
Another whine. His butt wiggles back and forth in a furious shake as a tail of flame wafts heat across the room.
“Are you real? Or is this all hallucination and imagination? Should I stop this before I descend too far?”
He pushes against my leg and whines. He doesn’t answer in high level speech. He answers the way devoted dogs do. He knows I’m feeling weak so he will dominate the space to comfort me. If anything were to show up, they would have to deal with him first.
He sits at my feet, this ghost of a burning dog. He doesn’t care if I am sane or not, if I am here or not. I am his and he will protect his own.
I move to balance my weight because dead or not, he’s heavy. My left arm lights up as various marks and scars illuminate with brilliance. Promises and threats combine to remind me I’m not alone.
Maybe I am insane beyond hope. Maybe this is all the hallucination of a broken mind. But I am not alone, even in this darkness. I am not alone.
I can try to go another day.
I reach through flesh of flame and rest my hand on charred black bone. His skull is rough under my palm. His tail threatens to break the leg of my chair as I return his attention with mine.
He huffs a muffled bark, announcing that he is on guard and this space is protected by him.
Okay. I’ll try another day. I don’t have to rush. I’ll see if tomorrow will be a good day to die. But not today.
I’m not alone today.
How could I say no to that face?