Dog struggled at the portal. It wasn’t a matter of physicality. The portal was flexible enough. Every time Dog went through, the rim stretched easily over his snout, opening wider to accommodate his fat belly. No, the problem wasn’t that Dog didn’t fit. It was that he didn’t want to go through. Returning to The World of The Man, where Dog had been born, meant returning to a perilous, heartbreaking place.
The World of The Man and The World of The Healer were as polar as dark and light. Dog preferred it here, in the light. But The Man waited for him in the house they shared back home. And The Man had no one else.
Still, Dog lingered at the portal and watched The Healer in the distance, strolling among the wildflowers that bloomed in all shades of the rainbow, year-round, The Healer in a white cloak that rippled with quiet energy, the purple sky holding two fat suns and wispy pink clouds on the horizon. The flowers quivered with delight in the presence of The Healer, speckled with joyous dew drops, emitting an aroma that reminded Dog of the sugary foods The Woman used to cook in The Hot Box.
Dog had smelled this field from The World of The Man and had thought maybe he’d find The Woman if he tracked it, his mouth watering with memories of her Hot Box treats. Dog had followed the scent to a small hole in the stone wall of a cave, behind a thicket of thorny bushes by the creek. There, he had stood, his tail as stiff as a tree limb, and curiously poked his snout inside the hole.
It was a tiny hole, at first, but as Dog poked his snout farther in, he realized his head could fit. He pushed on, and soon, Dog emerged on the other side, tail wagging. And couldn’t believe his eyes.
The World of The Man had only held a few colors, but this new world held two blazing orange suns floating in a purple sky full of pale green birds and glittering stars. Dog saw magenta inch worms weaving through indigo grass, crimson butterflies fluttering on leaves of teal ivy that grew across the field. And should anything die—the flowers, the birds, the butterflies—The Healer revived them. Dog had seen it.
And the scents! Dog had never smelled a place so inviting. Like the stink of death and decay from The World of The Man had never permeated the atmosphere, every stench replaced by an aromatic delight. Like the foliage exhaled sheer joy with every breath.
But Dog was a Good Boy, and he knew it was time to return home, no matter how he enjoyed his time in The World of the Healer. He did not understand love, but all the same, it governed his way.
So, he turned away from The Healer, away from that angelic figure who pulsed with soft white radiance against a lavender horizon with a field of wildflowers gently swaying in the breeze. Dog approached a hole the size of a grape in the side of a cliff and pushed his snout in. Pressing on, he squeezed through, like he did every day.
He felt the rim of the portal slide over his fur, parting for him like water in a pond. His front paws touched down on the earth behind the thorny bushes by the creek. His abdomen, hind legs, and tail soon followed. Dog strutted out of the hole as if through an open door, shaking off the bumps it raised on his skin every time he passed from world to world.
Dog began his journey back home, eagerly stomping through the weeds (which were always brown in this world). He didn’t know how many years he had lived with The Man. Mainly because Dog didn’t know how to tell time. To him, it seemed like they’d been together forever, but to The Man, their relationship was only the tail-end of a longer, much more painful existence. Dog sensed as much. But it did not affect his love for The Man.
Their partnership had gone on long enough that their tasks were done in tandem, Dog’s steps placed so as not to disturb The Man’s daily habits. But life had not always been this perfect harmony. The Man had once yelled at Dog, back when The Woman was around. Back when Dog used to dash into The Man’s path, causing him to stumble and fall, and The Man would holler at Dog until his cheeks darkened.
Dog hadn’t done those things on purpose. He had only been running to The Woman—always running to The Woman—and had not noticed The Man at all.
Then, one day, The Woman was gone. And The Man got down on all fours (just like Dog) and howled and howled at the moon, baying through the night, as water leaked from his eyes. It was the saddest thing Dog had ever seen; the loneliest song he’d ever heard sung. Dog understood The Man then and vowed to always protect him. Now, they were the best of friends.
Dog trotted through swarms of gnats that hovered above the brown grass, the house he shared with The Man a small gray dot in the distance. Though not surrounded by vibrant colors and soothing aromas in this world, Dog looked forward to the scritch-scratch of The Man’s fingers atop his head and the comfort of his bed of goose down and terrycloth.
Dog’s stomach growled, and he hoped The Man would make a big, juicy steak and give him the trimmings and fat. He loved how it felt when the wiggly pieces of fat slid down his throat and plopped into his stomach with a wet splash. Or maybe The Man would share the eggs he kept in The Cold Box. Dog loved those, too.
Ever since The Woman had gone, The Man (who used to scold Dog for eyeballing his food) now shared a meal with Dog every evening. And Dog, who understood the void left by The Woman, was dutiful in providing the comfort of a shared meal. The Man still poured a bowl of beefy hard bits for Dog every morning, which Dog gobbled up before heading off on his adventures. But this second meal with The Man was Dog’s favorite part of the day, no matter what adventures he’d had.
The pinch of hunger in Dog’s gut subsided the nearer he drew to the house, replaced by a curious chill. Normally, by now, Dog smelled food in the air; he often made a game of seeing how soon he could pick up the scent of The Man’s cooking on walks home. But, as Dog approached the familiar gate with its peeling brown paint, still, he smelled no food.
There was a stillness in the house, unusual for this time of day. The Man’s presence was that of a nectar-seeking bee. He whistled; he cooked; he clattered pots and pans, anything to fill the silence left by The Woman. But today, as Dog approached, all was calm.
Timidly, tail drooping, Dog scooted through the flap door. He bypassed the goose down bed he’d been desperate to feel on his tired paws moments earlier and found The Man in the next room, the room with The Looking Box, in the same state The Woman had been in before Dog never saw her again. In the forever still. The breathless sleep.
The Woman never said goodbye.
The Man never said goodbye, either.
Dog was not ready to lose The Man. Not yet. Not with the pain of The Woman still burning in his chest.
He scooped the straps of The Man’s overalls into his mouth and began to pull. He pulled with all his might, past the wooden gate with the peeling brown paint and down the dirt path by the creek. Dog had to stop, twice, tongue flapping at the side of his mouth, to draw a few laps of water. He was not the pup he’d once been. But he could do this, he knew.
He pulled The Man along the bank, then behind the thorny bushes that grew along the cave, until he reached the portion of stone wall that held the portal. But there, Dog struggled further, because—try as he might—he could not push The Man across the threshold into The World of The Healer.
With a growl of frustration, Dog stepped through the portal, then reached back for The Man with his strong jaw, his body half in and half out of both worlds. He latched onto The Man’s overalls and tried to tug the limp body toward him, but he felt only the resistance of an intangible barrier.
Dog whimpered with his head nestled close to The Man’s expressionless face, his tail, still in The World of The Healer, growing as lifeless as The Man. He was a dog who loved a man, caught between two worlds, who didn’t feel like moving, or choosing a side.
Then, Dog heard The Healer’s voice in his ears like the trickling of a mountain stream. He kept his eyes closed, listening to their melodious words.
“The Man cannot enter my world, lest He destroy it. But you are a Good Boy. I can help you, Dog.”
The Healer eased Dog through the portal with ethereal cloaked arms, setting him to rest beside The Man. One arm retracted through the portal, but one remained, placing a glowing palm against the forehead of The Man. The toxicity of The World of The Man sizzled against The Healer’s skin, but they kept their hand there anyway, until The Man drew a sharp inward breath.
And so it went, that The Man woke up near the cave with no clue how he’d gotten there, and no shoes. The Man shook his head, confusion replacing the stillness in his eyes. He noticed Dog waiting by his side and reflexively patted his furry head, then rose to his feet. Dog was grateful for that. He’d exhausted himself pulling The Man all the way to the portal and was looking forward to his goose down bed.
For all the world, they were a man and a dog, walking together along a gently flowing creek at sunset, toward an old bungalow, where dinner waited to be prepared and eaten. Only one creature in their world knew The Man had died and been brought back to life that day: his loyal dog, who wasn’t ready to let go, or to leave The World of The Man behind, just yet.
