Surrender

Gerald ignored the knock at the door at first. Thinking back on it later, he wondered how Max had knocked with such authority. Surely, if someone abandons you, their knock should have a meekness commensurate with the level of abandonment. This was no soft rapping at the door. It was strong, steady, and on the beat. After the third chorus, Gerald abandoned his soggy cereal, save the mush currently in his mouth. Making his way through the living room, Gerald’s threadbare bathrobe softly flapped from minimal effort. He opened the door and covered his eyes from the glare of the morning sun. He grumbled at the light’s intrusion. Without Max, he’d had little reason to suffer the outdoors. Now, here he was. The abandoner himself.

Staring at the resplendence of Max, freshly bathed, combed, head held high in the doorway, Gerald was acutely aware of his stubble and unkempt tufts of hair struggling to escape the confines of his ears. Gerald walked away, leaving the door open. Max followed with brisk steps, leaving the door open. Perhaps for a quick getaway.. Sinking into his favorite chair, Gerald eyed Max as he laid down a manila folder on the coffee table. Max settled into his spot on the gray couch, worn white from daily naps. A spot Gerald had not sat in before Max left, or since. In their respective corners, they could now see eye to eye. Gerald stared into Max’s deep brown eyes, willing him to speak first or break contact. It was a game he could not win. Breaking, he looked at the manila folder, a sliver of pink protruding from inside.

“You could have come in through the back. Your door’s still open.”

“I didn’t think that was appropriate. Considering.”

Gerald could not stop staring at that intrusive pink.

“What’s that?” Gerald asked.

“You know what it is,” said Max. “I need you to sign the paper.”

“You mean I need to give you up.”

“Yes.”

Gerald reached for the folder and stood up, towering over Max’s small frame, wishing it made any difference. As if by sheer size and will, he could get Max to return. Instead, he walked to the window. Looking out, he imagined one of a thousand days that would have seen him and Max coming up over the crest of the hill. Sweating, tired, happy. Then they would collapse into each other on the couch. Each panting in satisfaction.

From the couch, Max said, “I remember those days, too. You always held my leash just right.”

“And you would throw them all away.”

“I want kids, Gerald. I always have. You knew that. And you…you gave up on that dream.”

“After I realized no woman wanted me, I had to realize that I had enough. We were enough. For me anyway.”

“Gerald, you…had chances. We met a lot of women at the park. I was a very good wingman. They loved to run their hands through my fur. But, you…Anyway,. I only have so many years left. Please. Sit. Sign the paper.”

Gerald sat down and slipped out the paper covered in a sea of words and lines begging for his initials and signatures. At the bottom, a name and address resolved into view

“Your new family?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just a few streets over. Maybe I could come visit.”

“No, Gerald, we need a clean break. And don’t put up Missing Posters again. That was embarrassing. You need to sign. You need to surrender me.”

Gerald grabbed a pen. His hand shook with a bit of rage, a hint of bitterness, and a soup bowl of sadness. It was barely a signature, but he guessed it would do to end a friendship.

“What will I do now?”

Max sighed, “There’s someone out there for you. Other dogs in the pound. Someone will be the right fit. Someone who’ll feel that you’re all they need. That you’re enough. “

“And if we meet on the street someday, when you’re out with your new family?”

“I’ll say hi. I won’t ignore you. But I won’t come running like you’re holding my favorite ball.”

Max jumped off the couch and onto Gerald’s chair for one last snuggle. Max took in Gerald’s mix of two-day-old sweat and bacon grease while Gerald picked up notes of a new oat shampoo and the tang of a new flea collar. Max lay his head on Gerald’s lap.

“It’s time to say good-bye,” Max said.

Gerald stroked Max’s ears, possibly for the last time, “Stay with me, Max. Stay.”

Max slid off and shook his fur, as if slipping off an old leash. Padding over to the open door, he turned to Gerald one last time.

“I can’t. I still love you, but I belong to someone else. I’m their good boy now, Gerald. I’m their good boy.”