i could have saved my dog

by Katie Vinson

Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, or it was and I had failed, my brain glitched, downed a wire, grew short, had feathers, laid eggs, crossed the road, for something, nothing, whichever it was, I, in fact, did not kill my father and yes that sounds alarming because it is alarming, because it was alarming, it was so, so very much alarming when my dog, my Kellie, my once jolly-waggy-goldy lab named Kellie, scurried so fast, the fastest scurry I’ve ever seen before, to the door, to greet me, howels and howels and lickies and kissies, so many kissies I’d never experienced before, then plop, to her back, thump, for rubs, belly rubs, but this was a different time, this time it was different, I’m different, it looked different, smelled different, felt different, like a help me kind of different, and there were three, one, two, three maybe four circular circles, not one angular or straight, but three black, charred—charred means seared—circles and now my hand is there, it is on her belly, I am touching her belly but not touching her belly and now something is stirring, the wheels are turning, my eyes, my ears, are popping, something is ringing, birds outside are swooping and swaying, my dog, my Kellie, my yogurt-loving-string cheese-eating- peanut butter-licking dog, dog, the dog I used to bark with and run zig-zags in the yard with, had circles, one, two three, there were four circles on her belly, then  DING! DING! DING! JACKPOT! him, it was him, sitting there, on the chair, in the kitchen, four maybe five, we were five feet apart, and without further ado, primal, I stood, hind legs, ears back, claws spread, squirrels scattered, leaves swirled, willows wept and gardens bled, forward, I launched, to him, but nothing, no reaction, nothing, quiet, it was quiet, it was so, so quiet, even the veins in my body pumped quiet, how dare he, how fucking dare he, that smirk, and we’re standing there, jaws clicking and clacking all over the place, til then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I’ve turned, I’m around, then POOF! I’m gone, in the car, down the road, in my apartment, alone, I’m alone, on the couch, in the living room, alone, I don’t have her, I could have had her, should have had her snatched, stealed, soughted police, priests, hitmen, even a hitman would’ve grabbed her, I left, walked in, walked out, I walked right fucking past her, I didn’t save my dog, I could have saved my dog, I didn’t save my dog, I could have saved my dog if I just would’ve grabbed her.  

Photo of Katie Vinson

BIO: Katie Vinson is a stay-at-home mom to three children ages 10, 12, and 14. Her nonfiction piece Moon has appeared in Book of Matches Issue 4 and was nominated for 2022’s Best of the Net. She lives in Muskego, WI with her husband and family.