The Lockdown

Two days before he gouged out his own eyes, Mike Clement met a woman with frosted hair and diamonds on her fingers in the lobby of his 24-hour emergency animal clinic. A small gray dog trembled in a cage at her feet.

“What I can do for you?” He knelt down by the dog and put his fingers through the cage wire. The dog sniffed and licked them. “Don’t be scared, little fella…”

“The dog’s the problem.”

“Is he sick?”

The woman smelled like lavender and her fat belly bulged against her tight yellow silk dress and pearl belt. “No.”

“He have a regular vet?”

“Do we really need to have this back and forth? I want you to take care of the problem.”

“I’m happy to help.” He picked up the cage and placed it on the counter.“But I need to know what’s wrong.”

“My son doesn’t want it anymore.”

“I have the numbers for some very good shelters.”

“I don’t have time.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I want you to kill it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You kill animals here, don’t you?”

“Only when it’s the humane thing.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You want me to kill this dog because your son is, what, bored with it?”

“That’s right. Can you help me or not?”

“No.”

“I’ll pay double. Just kill it, okay?”

“Get out.”

Something ugly in his tone scared her. She grabbed the cage, shouted at him to fuck off and walked out.

*

She dropped the cage on the street and the dog screamed in pain. She lit a cigarette with a gold-plated lighter and sucked down the smoke.

“Liberal asshole.”

She knelt down by the cage and blew smoke in the terrified dog’s face. When she stood up to open the driver’s side door, a cinder block suddenly slammed into her windshield, showering her with glass. She screamed and ran from the car, her heels clicking on the concrete, looking up and down the empty street.

*

Second-grade teacher Mary Harper’s TV was always on the news, and the news was always about death. That Monday, 35 men and women were accidentally put to death in a Raleigh nursing home when the power cut out. A plane crashed and killed a young family on their way to a reptile-themed amusement park. And 10,000 dogs and cats were slaughtered in a Duluth, Minnesota kill-shelter.

“We tried to adopt them out, but no one wanted them. We didn’t have a choice.”

Mary turned off the TV and opened her kitchen curtains. Golden morning light filled the room as she sat down to eat a breakfast of bacon, eggs, orange juice and toast.

She loved Mondays. She would spend it with her children, teach them new ideas, give them new skills. Her special children filled her with pride.

Savoring a bite of crispy bacon, she placed a black leather grade book next to her plate and opened it to the first page, smiling at the soft whisper of the paper.

Her breakfast table gave her a view of her front lawn and the street. The grass was emerald green. The street was lined with white mini-vans and portable basketball hoops.

She took a sip of orange juice and looked down at the book. The first page had a column of 7 names written in pencil and a row of letter grades ranging from A to A- next to each one. She took a bite of toast and looked up when a burst of red lights caught her attention.

A black and blue police car sped by.

She put down the toast and hesitated. Then an animal control vehicle sped past the window. She stood up from her kitchen table when she saw her neighbors, mostly housewives in bathrobes, rush past her window.

*

Mary caught up to one of the bathrobe women named Denise, a pale woman with short, thick black hairs on the back of her neck and puddles of fat around her hips. They were occasional friends who spoke briefly in passing at the grocery and the artisanal coffee shop.

“What’s this all about, Denise?”

“Connie’s idiot kid found something on his way to school. Ran home crying like an idiot baby and she did what she always does. Called the president of the homeowners, the mayor, probably the fucking President. I hate her.”

“It could be nothing.”

“She’s an attention whore, a stupid fat ugly waste of blood.”

They followed the crowd and the cars and turned south at Maple and Elm Streets. They walked south toward a clump of trees on the edge of an undeveloped property and a cluster of police and emergency vehicles. A huddle of concerned residents watched from the street.

“Whatever it is, Connie’s gonna use it to push her Fascist association plan.”

“Let’s wait for the evidence.”

“Shouldn’t you be at school, shaping young genius minds?”

Mary and Denise pushed through the cluster of residents and walked up to the line of police and animal control technicians. Denise turned to talk to her realtor, a woman named Candace. “When are you gonna sell my house, Candace?”

Mary was blinded briefly by the flashing blue lights. She looked up and took an involuntary shocked breath. A 150-pound Irish Wolf Hound was gutted and hung from a tree by its own intestines. Blood was dripping in the dirt.

Flies were feasting on the tongue.

“Denise, I’m sorry.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…”

Later that day Mary tried to remember walking home from the scene of the killing, but all she could picture was every tree hung with a murdered dog...