I heave a heavy sigh as I snuggle into mom’s lap. She laughs as we settle ourselves into our little nest on the couch. “Did you have a big day, Bubba?” she teases.
In her eyes, a dog’s life is all walkies and treats. She has no idea how wrong she is.
Don’t get me wrong. She’s operating off the best information she has, and I’d prefer she didn’t know my secret. In fact, a big part of my job is to keep her from knowing.
My mom attracts Doldrums. Nasty, sneaky things. They feed on happiness, siphoning off joy until a person is practically a shell. I’ve made a thorough study. My job is to hunt them down before they can do too much damage.
Humans can’t see Doldrums with the naked eye, not that it would help if they did. They come in all manner of shapes and sizes; some are so small that I pick up on them by scent or by mom’s reactions instead of by sight. Some are big and disguised as people. Sometimes, even despite my ability to see them, they sneak past. Those are hard days.
But back to the matter at paw. It had been a very big day. Mom hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. There must have been some Doldrums hiding in her pillow. I had to rouse her and get her moving. She grumbles a lot when I do this, but it’s for her own good.
I frisk around enough that she puts on her shoes and coat, and we start walking towards the dog park. Doldrums don’t do well in sunshine and fresh air. I start to see them lose their grip. After an hour at the park, she’s smiling and laughing at my antics as I race around.
A man is outside in the yard. Doldrum or not, he’s suspicious, so I bark to scare him away.
I thought my day’s work was done until we were back home and Mom got on her phone. The phone is suspect. It looks harmless. Small. Quiet. Warm in her hands. But I know better. The Doldrums love the phone. They slip through it somehow, through the light, through the endless tapping and scrolling. I can smell them before I see them.
She sits down on the couch, shoulders still soft from the park, a little bit of sunlight clinging to her. I think we’ve done it. I think we’ve won for the day. Then the phone lights up.
At first, it’s just one. A small one. It clings to the edge of the screen, thin and gray, like a shadow that hasn’t decided what it wants to be yet. I watch it stretch, testing its shape, testing her. She frowns. That’s all it takes.
More of them slip through. They’re faster now, bolder. They crawl over her hands, up her arms, settling into the tight spaces around her eyes. I can see her breathing change. Slower. Heavier. Not again. We just cleared them out.
I nudge her hand with my nose. Harder this time. The phone wobbles, but she doesn’t put it down. She’s locked in now, both thumbs typing rapidly. There are tears in her eyes as she texts. They’ve got her attention now. That’s how they feed.
I climb into her lap, all of me, no subtlety. I press my weight against her, push my face into hers, and block her view. “Bosun!”
She laughs, but it’s thin and distracted. The Doldrums hiss at me. They don’t like to be interrupted. Good.
I swipe my paw across the phone. It hits the cushion with a thud. A particularly feisty one snaps at me as the phone falls, but it loses its grip and dissolves before it can latch on.
She sighs. A real one this time. The kind that comes from somewhere below the surface. Her hand leaves the phone and finds my face instead. This is much better. I settle in, keeping one eye on the screen. A few of them linger at the edges, waiting and patient. They always are.
But not today. Not while I’m here.
Others come back throughout the day. I use all my best moves: throwing my toys in the air, showing her my tricks, snuggling on the couch, begging for treats, and making her go outside.
Being a Doldrum hunter is hard work. They’re patient, and they come back when you least expect them. But I am more patient. I stay close. I watch. I wait. She calls me her good boy, like this is all a game. Like I’m only here for treats and sunshine and soft places on the couch.
That’s fine. She doesn’t need to know.
She’s my mom. I’ll keep her safe.
Things That Start With J 