Fiction: The Greater Love
By Rebecca L. Monroe
arttimesjournal December 24, 2020
He huddled in a corner in the darkness, unsure of what had happened, waiting.
Yesterday had been bright sunshine and scents as he walked with his owner down the street. Smells of those who had gone before on the hard cobbles, old food, paint and hot rubber from vehicles. They passed shops with open doors, scents of perfume, clothes and leather. So much to see and sniff. Once in a while a quick tug on his leash reminded him to quit pulling. He’d obeyed reluctantly, too excited.
Today he thought it would be the same. Bahar had come, leash in hand, love in her voice. The tone had made his stub tail wiggle violently. He forced himself to hold still while she clipped the leash on, her long dark hair swinging down to brush his face. He always tried to be careful, aware of how powerful he was. He knew he could pull her off her feet though his back only came to her knees. It had happened. Once. She had hugged him, laughing but his heart hurt.
Then they were off, down the street. Bahar took him a new way that was quieter, less shops and people. He smelled a new smell – a butcher with fresh meat hung out. They passed it with him looking back, starting to drool. This street was better, nicer. She thought so too, he knew. He could sense sheer joy traveling through the leash.
They came out of nowhere. He hadn’t recognized the violence of their smell until it was too late, until she yelled in surprise. There were three of them with unshaven faces and foul breath. They grabbed her and shoved her; shouting and gesturing. He was yanked off his feet by the leash as she staggered backwards. He leapt up, ready to defend her but a kick from one of the men sent him sprawling. Bahar shouted back, tears streaming down her face. One of the men backhanded her and she fell. Again, he leapt to his feet, roaring. He would kill them.
She screamed – this time at him. “Go. Home!”
No! She reeked of fear, pain. He would never leave her.
“GO. HOME!” There was panic in Bahar’s voice. He’d heard it once before when he’d been chewing on a cord to the light. It was a mix of fear and danger. It meant very bad.
He took a step back, waited, and saw hope flare in her widened eyes. It was what she desperately wanted. He had to obey. Heart breaking, he turned and walked away, glancing back.
“GO!”
The men had grabbed her and were turning her. One had a long rope like thing in his hands. They were going to hurt her. Their postures and the upraised arm of the one with the ropelike thing shouted it.
“GO!”
Whatever they were going to do wasn’t nearly as bad as what she would feel if he didn’t obey. He limped home, followed by her screams of pain
He nosed the door to home open and hid in a corner of the bedroom, shaking and whining softly, listening, wishing she would come. His side ached where he’d been kicked and one ankle had swollen up. He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing her screams again, tucking his nose into the floor. He’d had to obey. Her pain at his staying had been too great. He shivered, confused, aching with sadness.
Then he heard a slow step outside. Up the porch and into the house. He crouched lower, waiting, listening, knowing it was her.
“Kaveh?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
He crept forward, whine escaping, staying on his belly because he hadn’t protected her.
“Oh Kaveh, You’re here,” She met him on the floor, wincing as she knelt to run her hands gently over his side before hugging him. He whimpered when she touched his ribs. “Kaveh, thank you. You’re safe. Thank you for obeying.”
He heard her love and relief and turned to lick her face. He also could smell blood, sense she was wounded. He searched her face for reassurance in the darkness.
“Shh. It’s all right little Kaveh. Lashes are nothing. You’re safe. You obeyed. We can’t walk anymore, my friend. They made a law. We must hide you now. They say love is unclean. I don’t care. We’ll manage. I’ll keep you safe,”
Unable to restrain himself, he crawled into her lap. He didn’t fit, her lap was too small and he was too big, but he had to feel her close.
Bahar held him, face pressed to his fur. “They are cold and mean, Kaveh. They aren’t human. We’ll manage. We’ll walk at night. I’ll hide you,” She held him and rocked him. “What God would make something as wonderful as you and then forbid loving you, Kaveh? What God would do that?”
Kaveh heard someone enter the house and growled. This time he would protect or die trying.
“Hush, Kaveh. Bahar, my little sister. Someone will hear your words and you’ll get worse than lashes.” A young man entered the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder. “Did they hurt him?”
“His ribs, I think.”
The young man squatted down beside her, holding out his hand to Kaveh. Kaveh licked it. This was a good person. He made her happy. “Will he be all right?”
“I hope so, Radin. There’s nothing I can do if he’s not.”
“And you?”
She smiled. “My back will heal. Kaveh is my heart. He obeyed me, so both
are safe.”
The young man sighed. “It’s dangerous to keep him. What happens if they
find him?”
“Just because Man says no, I’m to throw my love away? Kaveh would have protected me if I’d let him. He tried to help me. He obeyed me though it broke his heart. What human can say as much?”
The young man bowed his head. “God doesn’t throw love away, we know this.”
Bahar stroked Kaveh. “You remember how I found Kaveh, how he needed me. That was God.”
Kaveh pressed himself against her, hearing the strength and safety in her voice and his trembling eased.
Radin chuckled softly, cupping Kaveh’s head in his hand. “How am I ever to live up to your example? You’ve stolen my sister and now I must love you both.”
Kaveh wagged his stubby tail.