I Love You, Bella

The house was as silent as a Charlie Chaplin movie.

In my mind, I could already hear the ever-constant click click click of Bella’s nails on the wooden floor. She always came to sniff and lick whoever came in through the garage door into the house. Her way of saying welcome back, I missed you while you were gone. But it was just a wish.

In the past two weeks, her footsteps had receded to nothingness, like an early morning mist fading as the day brightened.

I followed the clean smell of vanilla bean to the family den. The candle fragrance was just right, not overpowering. I found my thirteen and eleven-year-old sitting on the floor next to Bella, who lay on her favorite mat.

Ken stroked her head. Amara leaned against him. Too scared, or since she was younger, perhaps overwhelmed by this new experience. They both looked up when they sensed my presence. Both pairs of eyes glistened, leaden with unshed tears. Ken spoke first.

“How do we know when she’s…?”

The unspoken words, the big elephant in the room, seemed to dissipate in the high vaulted ceiling overlooking the living room.

As much as I expected it anytime, I didn’t know how to convey it to them. I decided to go with the vet's response each time I asked the same question. I wondered if that was a mantra learned at veterinary school, just like whether medical students took a class called Poker Face 101.

I joined them on the floor and reached for the journal on the mahogany center table with a marble top. It was smack in the middle of a Persian rug with abstract designs. I rested my back on the leather couch and stared at the wall in front of me. A huge flat-screen TV hung on it like a black dry erase board. As if answers to Ken's question would magically appear on it.

“Mommy?” said Amara.

I sighed. “You’ll know when it’s time. That’s what the vet told me.”

I examined the journal as if seeing it for the first time. Hardback, aged, black, with a picture of Bella taped on the front. The scrapbook was older than the two kids wishing for a miracle.

A tall, handsome man walked in and smiled. He said, “come on, kids, the bus will be here soon.”

After gently kissing the sleeping dog, the two kids got up reluctantly and followed the man.

I leafed through. Pictures of me as a young woman carrying Bella as a puppy. Bella alone. Bella with the kids in warmsys—their first days back from the hospital.

Bella with Greg. A corner of my lips crinkled in a smile—Bella with Greg and me.

+++

14 years earlier

I was the last to squeeze into the elevator at my apartment complex in Knights Bridge, MA. I stared ahead, brain fried, ass numb—from hours and hours of sitting and staring at the screen, typing numbers and commands at my job.

“Hold the elevator!” said a deep, frantic sounding male voice.

As I saw who the voice belonged to, the tiredness vanished. Oh my God, how do I look?

The door was already closing. It was at that point where it might not stop even if you stuck a finger in between. I risked it. The subtle groans behind me let me know I was the least liked person inside that square box.

He wore a black suit, white shirt, and red tie, the corporate type. Without making eye contact, he nodded and squeezed in, like an extra, in a bag of sliced bread.

We were so close I was sure he could hear my heartbeat. I held my breath, but my heart kept going, sounding like a sweatshirt zipper in a tumble dryer.

The elevator dinged and stopped on the second floor. He rushed out, taking with him the aromatic, clean smell of his cologne. My heart finally calmed.

The next floor was mine. I got off and hurried toward my apartment, trying to drive the thought of the handsome man out of my mind.

My apartment was just like my college apartment. The Sofa, TV, and dining table—all I’d advertently placed in the same spots as in my student abode, just a little more expensive. The other difference was the guest room; it was empty.

I followed the same routine day after day. Put a TV dinner in the microwave—tonight was lasagna—then headed for the bathroom. I Showered, then ate in front of the TV. Later I went for a walk from the apartment complex to the nearby park.

The walk wasn’t for exercise per se, even though I could lose a few pounds. But I didn’t want to lose my ‘juicy ass’ as my friends back home called it. It’s your best asset. Looks extra good in jeans.

After the walk, entertainment was sitting in front of the TV watching Hallmark movies. It was so predictable, but I still watched them. Sometimes I switched to the History channel. Bedtime was around ten, and my lullaby was the drip, drip of a leaky faucet in the kitchen. I’d called maintenance two weeks ago, and they still haven’t looked at it.

+++

As a systems engineer, my job was mostly the same, day to day, with the occasional emergencies. Since when I was a kid, I have loved computers and numbers.

After lunch on Friday, I was at my desk dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a sweatshirt. (It was always cold in the dungeon to keep the servers cool.) Typing away, singing to a Whitney Houston song playing from someone’s computer.

“Where do lonely hearts go…” I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned.

Pam Smith stood beside me, chuckling. “Where do broken hearts go?” She belted out the lyrics.

I smiled. “Whatever.” I noticed she was wearing her light jacket, and her handbag dangled by her side. “Are you leaving?”

She exhaled. “Yes, I almost forgot I have an appointment with the vet. Just let them know if anyone asks for me while I’m gone. See you tomorrow.”

“OK.”

She turned to walk away, then stopped. “Chioma.”

She always pronounced my name in three syllables. I say it with two. For my parents, it's one.

“I think you’re lonely. Get yourself a cat, and you’ll have something to fuss over.”

I snorted. “Get a cat because I butchered a song?”

“You’re sending a message. An SOS signal.”

I humored her. “We had a dog when I was a kid. But I heard cats do weird stuff.”

“Nothing weirder than people. They can stare at you for a long time without blinking. It could be creepy. Then you wonder what they’re thinking—gouge out your eyes while you sleep.” She laughed. “Oh, sometimes they bring you gifts too?”

“Gifts?”

“Yeah, usually something dead. Once Millie brought me a dead rat or squirrel. Another time, some rodent that was barely alive. I’m still not sure what it was.”

Goosebumps shot through my skin.

“Now that you know what to expect,” said Pam, “there won’t be any surprises.” She looked at her watch. “Christ, I have to go.” She took off like a rocket. “Also, don’t forget a good rabbit and extra batteries.”

I shook my head as my fingers flew over the keyboard once again. I imagined my mom’s response if I told her I was getting a cat. ‘You are twenty-six years old. Are you going to marry it?’

Pam had pivoted to rabbits and batteries before she left. Why? My fingers froze. I threw my head back and let out a silent laugh.

+++

Back at my apartment after work, I sat in my favorite spot watching TV. My phone buzzed—a text from Pam. I tapped on it, and a picture of her smiling and holding up a fat cat stared back at me.

“Oh, God.”

Not after what she told me about cats bearing gifts. I hit delete and tossed the phone beside me on the couch. I’ve seen other women carrying little dogs with bulging eyes, and I never understood why someone would want to do that. I picked up my phone and Googled small dog breeds.

There were so many breeds. I hopped from website to website, image to image. “Nah, not for me.” I put on my sneakers, grabbed my purse and phone, and headed to the park for some fresh air.

It was a pleasant June evening, but surprisingly, the sidewalk wasn’t crowded. I strolled along the pond with a few others. The air smelled like the aquarium I had as a kid, bringing back memories. Most of the people I passed were older couples. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doing something wrong?

The jingle from an ice cream truck pulled me out of my negative thoughts. When dejected, eat ice cream.

Neighborhood kids abandoned the jungle gym and raced for the van. I waited my turn, bought a coffee-flavored ice cream with nuts on a cone and some chicken nuggets.

I popped a nugget in my mouth and chewed, looking for a place to sit. A couple got up from a park bench, and I quickly took it. I ate some ice cream and watched a flock of geese flying above in a V formation.

Suddenly the lead bird lost altitude, and the rest followed. They dropped onto the pond, making a ruckus like a fleet of 747’s. I marveled at nature's flying machines. How many hours did Santos-Dumont, Gustave Whitehead, and the Wright Brothers spend watching birds before building their prototypes?

As the geese swam, I reached for the bag of nuggets. “What the...” It had moved.

Something white and furry scuttled under the bench into a nearby bush. I jumped to my feet, heart pounding. Then I saw it, a whitish puppy. I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Hi little puppy. You scared the shit out of me. Want to share my food?” It remained where it was behind the bush. I brought out a nugget and held it toward it. It sniffed the air, then walked cautiously to me, ready to bolt at the slightest threat. It snatched the chicken and retreated behind the bush.

I shouldn’t have fed it. I looked around, hoping, and at the same time not hoping, to see someone coming for the dog. Getting into a fight for feeding someone’s dog wasn’t what I’d planned for this evening. But nobody came. The puppy stared at me, licking its lips as if saying more, please.

As I ate my ice cream, the bag of nuggets conveniently slipped out of my hand and fell on the ground.

“Oops!”

I made no plans to pick it up, knowing the puppy had already desecrated it. Instead, I focused on my ice cream. The sound of paper rustling confirmed the puppy was getting into its snack.

Eventually, the noise stopped, and I looked down. The puppy was sitting, wagging its tail, watching me. “Nope, this is mine.” I finished the ice cream and ate the crunchy cone, hoping the dog would leave or the owner would show up.

A sound like a muffled whistle came from somewhere in the park. The puppy yelped and ran off. I let out a sigh of relief, picked up the ripped nugget wrapper by a tiny edge, and dropped it in the garbage. I headed home.

+++

Ten minutes later, I walked through the automatic doors of the apartment complex that opened as one approached. It worked like an EZ pass tag in the car, scanning the key in my purse.

I strolled through the lobby toward the elevator, wondering if the hunk that nearly smothered me would come running to the elevator again.

Rounding the corner, a uniformed doorman/receptionist I hadn’t seen before approached. I smiled. He didn’t smile back. OK. We’re not in a smiling mood this evening. I wondered what had crawled up his ass.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.”

My eyebrows shut up, not liking his tone.

“You have to put your dog on a leash inside the building.”

“What? I don’t have—”

I spun around and nearly jumped out of my skin.

The dog drew back at first, startled by my reaction. Then it raced to me, crawling around my ankles, wagging its whole body.

“It’s not my dog! I don’t know who owns it!”

“It sure knows you.” The doorman sighed, dropped his stern look. “Listen, I don’t mind, just that another tenant might complain, and I could get fired.”

“It’s not my dog!”

The doorman gave me a look as if realizing I might be telling the truth.

“I’m sorry I jumped to a conclusion. What happened?”

For the next ten minutes, I explained what happened at the park and how the thieving puppy stole my nuggets.

The doorman inhaled and exhaled. “Someone dumped it.”

“Dumped? Like thrown away? Who could do such a thing?”

He pursed his lips. “We can find out. The CCTV covers some areas of the park.”

We walked over to the receptionist's counter.

He stood behind the computer. “Approximately what time did the dog approach you?”

I checked the time Pam sent me a text. I was in the park ten minutes later. “5:40 pm.”

While he checked security camera videos, the dog ran circles around me as if we were together. Some minutes later, the doorman yelled out.

“I found it. I went back an hour, and I saw this.” He turned the monitor my way.

A man got out of a minivan and put the dog on the ground in the footage. The dog walked further away to investigate its new surroundings. Suddenly, the man got in the car, and it drove off. My heart broke for the dog as it looked around, confused.

“Let’s call the police,” I said, my voice barely audible. “Those people must be held accountable.”

Another tenant interrupted us. He needed a trolley to move a heavy box from his car to the third floor.”

The receptionist straightened. “Of course. Where are you parked?”

“Right in the carport.”

“You can head out there. I’ll bring the cart straight to you.” He returned the monitor to the proper position, then turned to me. “Why don’t you make that call. I’ll be right back. “Excuse me.”

I searched for the police station nearest to me. I didn’t want to dial 911 and pull the police away from life-threatening emergencies they might respond to.

“Knights Bridge Sheriff’s Office, how can I help you?” said a female voice that sounded harnessed.

Again, I repeated my side of the narrative for the second time. The lady asked for my name, location, and a description of the dog, which I gave her.

“Sex?”

“I don’t—” I glanced at the puppy, and just then, she lowered herself and peed on the tile. I gasped. “God, female.”

“OK. I’ll send a deputy over. Miss, where’s the dog now?”

“With me.”

“Is she friendly?”

I felt my inside tighten, knowing where she was going. “Yes.”

“I hope you don’t mind—can you keep her with you without compromising your safety and the dog until the deputy arrives?”

I didn’t want a dog in my apartment. “I—I think I can handle that. But the deputy is coming tonight, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I exhaled. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you so much,” said the lady and hung up.

What have I gotten myself into? I looked down at the dog, and she looked back at me with that what’s next look. She had no collar. How do I get her back to my apartment? I bent down, stroked her, then scooped her up, expecting a fight. It laid its head on my palm like it was the most natural thing. I felt the first tug at my heartstrings.

I took the stairs, not wanting to run into anyone on the elevator. We arrived without incident, just that she smelled a little. Soon, that would be the Sheriff's problem.

Once I put her down, she started sniffing around as if she was looking for something. I called the lobby, and the doorman answered. I told him the liquid on the floor wasn’t apple juice. I apologized on behalf of the dog.

“What did the police say?”

I told him. And also, to call me when they arrive.

I’d just put my phone down when I heard a crash in the kitchen. I rushed over, and the puppy had pulled down the garbage bin.

“You’re still hungry?” I cleaned up, put the garbage away, and popped a meat lovers Lasagna in the microwave. I spread it out on a paper plate to let it cool. She ate the whole thing.

Scared she would do numbers one and two, I created a mat of paper towel. She thought it was playtime and ripped them to shreds. I sacrificed my spare towel— laid it on the floor. I was relieved when she gladly lay on it. I sat beside her and stroked her. “Where’s the police?” I growled.

She jerked her head up and looked at me.

“It’s OK. I’m just venting. Relax.” I picked up the remote and turned to my favorite channel. Soon, I too was relaxed. Outside, it was now pitch black.

+++

I felt something like a wet rag dragged across my face. Did I have a fever, and my mother was wiping me down? I opened my eyes, and a dog was staring at me. I bolted up. The events of last night came to me fast. I’d slept in what I had on last night.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I sounded like a toad. Outside the window, the sun was already up. I’d slept in my clothes from last night. In the night, I’d climbed onto the couch. I’ll be late for work. What happened to the police? What am I going to do with the dog? Where’s my damned phone?

It wasn’t on the couch. I found it on the floor, partially buried under the towel. I picked it up. Of course, it was dead. I plugged the phone in to charge and called the lobby with my home phone.

“Ah, Ms. Malu, the deputy came late, “said the doorman. “We called, and left you a message.”

“Left me a message? You should have broken down the door.”

I hung up after the doorman said, have a nice day. The only good thing so far is that today is a Saturday. My next call was to the Sheriff’s office. The same lady apologized for last night but promised a deputy would be there within the next hour to pick it up.

“The deputy picks up the dog, then what?”

There was a pause. “We’ll take it to the shelter, which is now busting at the seams. Since the dog owner isn’t looking for her, she’ll join the long line waiting for adoption.”

“What if she doesn’t get adopted?”

The lady sighed. “Every dog has to leave the shelter, one way or the other.”

A chill traveled down my spine—she would be euthanized. I felt a warmth around my ankle and looked down. The dog looked up at me with big sad eyes, as if she knew. I swallowed. “What…what if I wanted to keep her?”

“Wow, that’ll be awesome.” Her voice became more friendly. “There’s a process, though. But considering she was abandoned, that should work in your favor. I suggest you take her to the vet for a health evaluation. They should be able to guide you about adoption.”

The vet checked her out and summarized her findings. “About three-month-old female poodle mix. Off-white fur with black at the tip of the tail. Blisters on her feet. A little underweight, nothing love, and a good home won’t fix.”

The vet gave her all her shots, scheduled a follow-up appointment, and recommended that I try to locate the owner.

“Just in case someone dumped her to punish the owner over what who knows,” said the vet with a shrug.

We went to Pet Smart. As they washed and groomed her, I shopped. I got her a collar, a leash, treats, toys, and food. I took pictures of her and posted one at the local library.

By the end of the week, Bella and I were a unit. She’d filled in the dull moments. I'd hurry back from work to see her.

On several occasions on the elevator, I’d caught my hunk checking me out on the elevator mirror. Then averting his eyes when I lock eyes with him. It made me feel good inside. At least he knows I exist.

I came back from work on a Tuesday—my second week Bella—and my life was turned upside down

+++

Every morning before leaving for the office, I would take Bella outside, using the stairs. That way, she would have already gotten a decent workout before we got out. She’ll do her business, and we’ll get back in.

Then I would remove her collar (recommended by a doggy website) before putting her in the crate. Blow kisses, then leave for work.

I went home after work and let myself into my apartment. Usually, Bella would whine, then bark when I entered.

Nothing.

I dropped the mail I’d picked up downstairs next to her collar. I walked to the corridor leading to my bedroom, where I’d put her crate. “Bella, I’m home.”

The crate door was open. I smiled. “Cheeky devil. You’ve figured it out.” I walked to the bedroom. “Bella, Bella.”

A nagging question got louder and louder in the back of my mind. Did I fail to secure the latch? She must be in the apartment somewhere if I didn't, right? Maybe she was thirsty and fell into the toilet and drowned. I scrambled to the bathroom. The door was closed. Heart pounding, I opened the door. The toilet lid was down. I lifted it. Clear.

I checked through the apartment. Bella wasn’t there. I felt like someone had stuck a hand into my chest and squeezed my heart with all their might. I took out my cell phone and called the lobby. Once the doorman answered, I blurted out.

“I…I can’t find my dog. I came back from work, and Bella wasn’t there.”

There was a pause. “Ms. Malu? 304?”

“Yes, yes.” My voice was shaky—my whole body trembling.

“Hold on a second, please.”

My hands shook so much that I placed the phone on the dining table and put it on speaker.

“Thanks for holding. Yes,” said the door attendant. “Maintenance was in three zero four around noon to fix a leaky faucet. I’ll—”

“Nobody told me it was going to be fixed today. Did he take Bella?”

“I…I don’t think so. Nothing like this has ever happened in the five years I’ve been here.”

Air rattled out of my lungs. “Where’s he?”

“He left for the day already. I’ll call him, then bring you up to date once I speak with him.”

“I’ll call the—”

He hung up before I finished my threat. I took a deep breath and exhaled through my mouth, regaining some sanity.

Oh God, I hope he has her. I would be devastated if I knew Bella was out there wandering the streets like she was before I found her. But this time, it would be my fault. I covered my face with both hands.

I couldn’t wait. I went downstairs. One look at the doorman, and I knew something was up. He said the technician said while he was in my apartment, Bella was barking, so he went to make sure she was alright. He admitted he brought Bella out of the crate and played with her. Then he put her back and went about his work.

I sighed. “The technician probably didn’t put the latch on well, and Bella must have wandered off while he was working.”

“I’m really sorry. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“God.” I was close to tears. “She might still be in the building. Can you send a newsletter to the tenants with Bella’s picture? Just in case anyone saw her around. I’ll put up a five hundred dollar reward.”

+++

I walked around the park, posted some pictures of Bella. I got an alert on my phone. The complex had sent out the newsletter with Bella’s pic and how to contact me. I looked at the pond and shuddered. God no.

Back in my room, I was pondering what to do next when my cell phone rang. Startled, I looked at the screen, incoming: Greg Malcolm. I hesitated. “Hello.”

“Hi, are you missing a dog?” The voice was male, deep and confident.

“Y-Yes.”

“Describe it.”

“Off white fur with black at the tip of the tail!” I felt suddenly awake as adrenaline surged through me.

“Male, female, or both?”

“What? Female. Her name is Bella!” I held my breath, my inside vibrating like a tuning fork.

“Woof, woof!” came through the phone

My knees felt like jelly, almost giving way.

“304 right?

“Yes!”

“OK, I’ll bring her up.”

Thank goodness. I stood by the door. It felt like forever. Soon I heard footsteps, then three raps on my door. I yanked the door open and there was Bella.

“Bella!” I felt like hot liquid wax was coursing through my veins. I snatched her from the man, kissed her, and spun her around. “You snuck out of the apartment? You got me all worried. I’m so glad you’re back. Naughty, naughty Bella.”

“It’s not her fault, don’t blame her,” said the man. “Dogs don’t put keys in keyholes, unlock and open doors, then walkthrough. Someone must have been careless.”

I zeroed in on the man that brought Bella home for the first time. It was my elevator hunk. “YOU!”

He pointed at me. “You, back at you, too. Imagine my surprise when I came out to grab my newspaper, and there was a puppy at my door.”

“I’m so sorry…so sorry.” I went defensive. “I secured in her crate when I left for work. Hmmm…the maintenance guy came to fix a faucet and played with her. He didn’t secure her properly, and she wandered off.” Then I went on the offensive. “Why didn’t you try to find the owner?”

“She doesn’t even have a collar with her name and address. Moreover, I was about to get on a conference call.” He gestured at Bella. “She ate my toast and eggs, made herself right at home, and slept off.”

I was relieved and embarrassed. “Bella…Bella does have a collar. It's right there.” I pointed at the table.

“Maybe you should get a newer one so you can monitor her whereabouts and set boundaries from the comfort of your phone.” He pursed his lips and forced a smile. “Anyway, I should be on my way.”

I should be thanking him, not arguing with him. “Thank you so much for bringing her back. Just give me a second—I’ll bring the reward.” I turned to get my purse.

He raised his hands. “Nope, don’t worry about that. I would have brought her back—reward or no reward.” He bent down and stroked Bella’s head. “So, your name is Bella?”

I quickly tore out a check from my checkbook, wrote his name, signed and dated it, then approached him.

“Now you be a good girl, Bella,” said Greg in a babyish voice. “No more running away.”

Bella licked his hand as he stroked her head. She rolled on her back, and he rubbed her belly. They got along nicely. She was in dog heaven. “Here.” I stepped closer to hand the check to him.

He smiled, waved it away, and headed for the door. Bella sprang to her feet and followed.

“Bella, come back here!” She ignored me.

Greg laughed. “After five hours together, I think we’ve bonded.

Bella barked. Ran circles around Greg and me, darting in and out of our leg space.

“Bella, stop!” I tried to move, and she got in the way. While trying to avoid stepping on her, I lost my footing and literally fell into Greg's arms.

I felt his warm breath on my face. His eyes bore into mine, and I was lost in them. My pulse raced, and I tingled all over. Somehow, I knew he felt the same things that I did.

He swallowed, and his nostrils flared. “Why don’t I take you out to dinner, and we can talk more about this reward.”

“Woof, woof.”

Bella gave my answer.

+++

Present-day

A reassuring hand on my shoulder brought me out of my reverie. I nuzzled Greg’s hand against my neck.

The dog whined, opened those big brown eyes, and fixed them on me.

"Oh, Bella,” I said, nearly choking on the words. She licked my hand, tapped a paw on it, and rested her head on my hand. Then she shut her eyes.

My shoulders shook, the dam broke, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

I cried and cried until I had no more tears. Bella was there from the beginning. She brought Greg and me together—was there at our wedding and when each child was born. Now she was ready to become an angel—it’s so hard to say goodbye.

Later in the evening, as I looked out at the pond, a flock of geese took to the air. One led the way as if they were headed to heaven. I knew Bella was in a good place.