Greasing the paw of something that is seven times smaller (It has a tiny brain)

Jim slides four 10 milligram tablets of Percocet into the left pocket of his khakis while his grandmother’s dog, a tan toy poodle, sits next to him on the carpet.

The poodle stares at Jim. Two inquisitive black eyes under a poof of fur make her aware of the outside world. And that makes her a witness.

The poodle racks her tiny brain: To bark or not to bark? That is the question. And she has the leverage.

Jim picks the dog up under her front paws and contemplates killing her. He can get her with one hand clasping her neck. A quick jerk and it would all be over. Afterwards, he can run to the pet store and buy a poodle that looks exactly the same. The old switch-a-roo. He’s seen it work a variety of times in his favorite tv sitcoms. But then he remembers that eventually the owners always decrypt the truth. Either the pet is a complete fuck up that shits everywhere and obliterates every expensive object in said person’s house/apartment. Or the perpetrator confesses to the crime. Shit hits the fan either way.

But there’s another option, which is the one he always chooses because this has happened a number of times  before.

Jim puts the dog in the middle of his lap. She carefully lowers her slender frame into the largest crease in his pants. Jim’s fingertips delicately massage the small gaps between the ribs before they steal a couple of the meat treats from the jar on the counter and offer it to her as a sign of peace. The poodle devours the meaty morsels. She shows her loyalty to silence by licking his fingers. Then the poodle jumps down and trots away confidently with her head held high because she got her cut of the pie and ate it. The grease is still stuck between her paws.

Used. Jim feels like a smear of shit on a wad of toilet paper waiting to be flushed. His friends and his family members will probably talk about all the potential being wasted as they repeat the word, “disappointment” over and over.

“Under the control of something seven times smaller than him. What a disappointment.”

Jim inhales two of the percs, so he can tolerate himself, and wipes the counter clean with his hand making sure that nothing is out of the ordinary. His grandmother will be back in a few minutes to talk with him about her childhood after she’s finished folding the laundry.