Table of Contents
1. Back in the spring he began to limp. 2
2. At the clinic, I couldn’t stay quiet. 2
3. The injection was quick. 2
4. That night I heard a thump. 3
5. Evening shrouded the house in quiet. 4
6. One morning while my husband was away, I saw the blur racing through the yard. 4
7. That night, there came a rustling of the bedspread at my feet. 4
8. I decided it best to keep Buddy to myself. 5
9. Can’t you see? I asked. 5
10. It was then I knew I had no choice. 5
11. The earth turned three times and settled into darkness. 5
Works Cited 8

Jerome Solomon
Instructor: M. Werner
ENG 102
April 11, 2016

Beneath the Crape Myrtle

Buddy is buried under the crape myrtle tree in the back yard.

1. Back in the spring he began to limp. He slipped when fetching his toy. He moaned when he lay down. In time, his groans turned to whimpers and I winced with his pain. He needs a doctor, my husband said. It’s time.

2. At the clinic, I couldn’t stay quiet. Twelve years, I said, twelve years he’s been a part of our family. Twelve years he’s been by our side. How can we do this? My husband shook his head. The doctor readied the needle. My heart fluttered like a bird in my throat.

3. The injection was quick. I caressed that spot behind his ear. Whispered my heart to him and kissed the place where his whiskers bristled from his nose. His breathing slowed from a quick pant to quieting heaves to nothing. I draped myself over his body. My tears ran down his neck, mingling with his wiry coat. Buddy is buried under the crape myrtle tree in the back yard. In the fall, the spent pink-crimson blooms will cover his grave. (Russell, Tony; Brizee, Allen; Angeli, Elizabeth; Keck, Russell; Paiz, Joshua M; Campbell, Michelle ; Rodríguez-Fuentes, Rodrigo ; Kenzie, Daniel P; The Oewl Staff) The morning Buddy was three days in the ground, a dark blur out the garden window caught my eye. The milk I was pouring splashed out of the bowl. My husband cursed, shaking his wet sleeve. I looked out the window, saw nothing, and dismissed the blur for a bird. Was it a raven? No, bigger. I cleaned up the mess, and retrieved a clean shirt. Throughout the day, I found myself looking out the window, wondering.

4. That night I heard a thump. Did you hear it? I asked my husband. The house settling, he said. I lay in the dark, listening, my thoughts on the blur I’d seen that morning. There’s the sound again, I whispered. My husband mumbled and turned away, pulling the covers around his ears. I crept through the dark house to the back door. By the time I got there, Buddy was gone. I didn’t sleep again that night. The next day, I opened the door to get the paper and found an old steak bone. A gift left on the doorstep. I showed my husband. He shook his head. A coincidence, he said. He took the bone and threw it into the garbage under the sink. (Modern Langauge Association)

5. Evening shrouded the house in quiet. The fire crackled in the corner stove and the air was in turns chilled and warmed. Buddy would have been there beside me on the sofa, curled into a ball, his nose tucked under the curve of his back leg, his eyes gazing up at me. I looked at my husband sitting in his chair, reading. He hadn’t looked longingly at the spot where Buddy liked to nap, the carpet fibers frizzy from his pawing. He hadn’t listened for the scratch at the back door. He wasn’t heartsick from grief. I miss him, I said, caressing the sofa cushion to my left. You loved that dog too much, my husband said. He put his book down and walked from the room. Yes, I thought. More than you ever did.

6. One morning while my husband was away, I saw the blur racing through the yard. I opened the door and whispered, come in. A rush of wind moved the hem of my skirt. An unexpected joy filled me. You are welcome here, I whispered, closing the door. The rest of the day was sweet. The house calm and my heart at peace.

7. That night, there came a rustling of the bedspread at my feet. I felt Buddy’s hot breath against my ear. My pounding heart whooshed in my ears and the moon cast blue shadows across the room. I slid from the bed and slipped into my bathrobe. Together we exited the house. Buddy was eager to show me his world. He raced around the yard and the night air whipped through my hair. Buddy dug around the ginger bushes and the dirt caked beneath my fingernails. He howled at the moon and together our voices mingled into a symphony of hope and of grief.

8. I decided it best to keep Buddy to myself. My husband would roll his eyes. Give me you-know-better-than-this looks. But it became difficult to hide the fact that I no longer fetched the morning paper. Or know how to answer when he accused me of digging holes in the yard. Stop, he said one evening as I collected the rib bones from his plate. Stop. Buddy is gone, he said. Let him go.

9. Can’t you see? I asked. Buddy is here. I opened the door. I let him in. He sits by me on the couch. He sleeps at the end of the bed. Stop. My husband’s fist hammered the table. Stop this. Stop acting crazy. Then he spoke more quiet. You need to see a doctor, he said. It’s time. My arms went limp. I turned my eyes to the window where I saw a pink tongue beneath a shining black nose. I pointed. He’s right there. My husband looked away.

10. It was then I knew I had no choice. At dinner, my husband took a sip from the cold glass. Have you let the milk go bad? he asked. I continued to eat, unable to move my eyes from my plate, imagining his esophagus squeezing the liquid down, down.

11. The earth turned three times and settled into darkness. Now, the fire crackles in the corner.
The house is quiet, but I am not alone. I look to the door with its window overlooking the garden. The specter of my husband has a sad face, a forgive-me-I-didn’t-know face. I meet his eyes and I mouth, No, I will not let you in. You wouldn’t believe. Buddy’s weight nestles in close beside me on the sofa, and I smile. Buddy is buried under the crape myrtle tree in the back yard. My husband is buried under the old sycamore.

Originally published in Plain Spoke, Vol. 1, No. 2, Fall 2007, and by The Liars League for their “Ghosts and Monsters” themed issue, Fall 2007.

Index behind, 2 believe, 6 dark, 3 fetching, 2 forgive, 6 hammered, 5 heart, 2, 4
League, 6
Liars, 6 longingly, 4
Plain, 6 shook, 2, 3 symphony, 4 the, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
Twelve, 2 under, 2, 3, 4, 6

Works Cited
Hautala, L. (2016, March 10). Pay up or else: Ransomeware is the new hot hacking trend of 2016. Retrieved from C|net: http://www.cnet.com/news/pay-up-or-else-ransomware-is-the-hot-hacking-trend-of-2016/

Hautala’s article offers a stark look into the reality of the vulnerability of mid-level companies. The piece itself provides a bit of levity by trying to make light of the solutions for protecting your data, by proposing that “if nihilism isn’t your cup of tea, I suggest hugging a puppy”.

Laid out in an informative but transitory method, this source with its direct approach allows a researcher to extract the information in a manner that leaves the reader informed but not overwhelmed.

Quadir, S. (2016, March 10). How a hacker's typo helped stop a billion dollar bank heist. Retrieved from Reuters: http://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-fed-bangladesh-typo-insight-idUSKCN0WC0TC

Taylor, H. (2016, April 11). Ransomware: Lucrative, fast growing, hard to stop. Retrieved from CNBC: http://www.cnbc.com/2016/04/11/ransomware-lucrative-fast-growing-hard-to-stop.html