HENDRIX is dead. Look at him just lying there. His stomach has stopped moving. Or has it? Did it just move? How am I to tell? I’m no doctor. I should have just left him with the vet like he said. I brought him home, stayed up all night watching him suffer and now he’s dead. Wonder what time it is?

“Shit!” Michael said, after looking at his phone. He threw his blanket aside, jumped up off the sofa and rushed to get ready for work. He was going to be late again. The blanket landed on Hendrix.

Outside, Manhattan looked somber. The snow had covered the sidewalk and while it might have been serene in the early morning light, now, after having been trampled by millions of hurried steps, it looked defeated. Michael trudged along to the subway. He was just another red blood cell flowing through the underground veins that kept the city alive. The cold held firm outside his black overcoat, but inside, his body burned up and his heart beat faster than normal.

“You’re late again!” Antonio Balboni shouted at Michael with his arms raised in the air as if he was lifting an invisible barbell. Michael’s boss was a former power-lifter, probably ex mob, probably still part of the mob, probably called Tony by mobsters. His steel gray shirt was too tight for his thick arms and bulging belly, and his white hair was cropped short like a cop, probably just to fool real cops.

I should call him Tony. Like Stallone in Rocky. ‘Hey Tony!’

“What’s your excuse this time?” said Tony, the boss/mobster/cop.

Michael was afraid of him, mostly because he was a huge man, but also a little because he was the boss and had the power to fire him. Tony was always angry at him for being late. Usually he had no excuse, because he was just a lazy guy who liked to hit the snooze button and go back to sleep.

Hendrix was always bugging me to take him for a walk in the morning. Maybe if I had taken him, I wouldn’t have been late for work every day.

“Wake up Michael! I’m asking you a question.”

“My dog died.”

“Oh, I see. Do you need the day off to mourn?”

“Well…”

“What are you, five? Grow up Michael. It was just a dog!”

What if I just punch him right now? I could throw a right hook and catch Tony by surprise. I could knock him out. At least for a few seconds. I would need those precious seconds to run away as fast as possible. Look at me; I’m not even half his size!

“What are you staring at? Get to work, you bum! And quit that moping. It was just a dog.”

Michael went to his desk, turned on his computer and hit the keys on the keyboard as hard as he could. His anger was not at his boss. He was angry at himself for being so sad at the death of a dog.

For Christ’s sake, it was just a dog!

He got busy and tried to forget about the stupid dead dog. Outside, the rain washed away the thin layer of snow and he wished the weather would just make up its mind for once.

Suddenly a sense of panic took over him. Hendrix was dead! The dead body was still lying in his apartment. In his rush to get to work, he had completely forgotten to take care of the body!

How the hell do you get rid of a dead dog in New York City?

He looked around to make sure his boss wasn’t nearby and called the vet.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Michael, but like I said yesterday, there really wasn’t much of a chance that he would make it through the night,” the vet said.

“Yeah, he fell asleep and then I fell asleep as well, and when I woke up, he was gone.”

“Well, that’s good in a way because that means he died peacefully in his sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you take care Michael. I’m a little busy right now. There’s a German Shepherd here with kidney failure that I have to put on dialysis.”

“Wait, hold on doc! I wanted to ask you about what to do with…”

“Yes?”

“With the… the body.”

“Oh, well there are a lot of options for handling the remains these days. You can have him buried. Some people even like to have their pets buried right next to their own burial plots. But that’s really expensive. Have you booked a burial plot for yourself?”

“What? No!”

“Just as well, it’s really expensive. You could have him stuffed as well, if you want. They can do any pose you choose. It looks almost real.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

“Then I think cremation is best for you. Would you like to have a funeral as well?”

“A funeral?”

“Yeah. A lot of grieving pet owners find that a pet funeral helps them process the loss.”

“No… no, I don’t need a funeral.”

“Well, then just have him cremated. Listen I really need to go now but…”

“Wait, just hold on doc. So how do I get him cremated? Do I have to take him to a funeral home?”

“If you want to do it yourself, sure. Just find out which funeral home near you does pet cremations. I can send you a list in a while… I don’t have it on me right now.”

“And if I can’t take him myself?”

“Well, you can have him picked up. Or you can bring him to us and we’ll take care of it. We handle several dead animals daily. Or you can just let the city pick him up. Just leave him outside with your trash in the morning. Put him in a bag, properly marked of course, so the garbage men know what they are handling.”

“You can do that? Just throw away your pet with the trash?”

“It sounds harsh when you say it like that… but it’s a service provided by the city, you know.”

“And what about the ashes?”

“The ashes? Oh! Well if you want the ashes, then you’ll have to pay for a private cremation. That would cost you much more. If you leave it to the city you can have it done for free but the dead body will be cremated along with other dead animals in a group cremation. Hundreds of animals are cremated daily, you know.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you just bring him down to us and let us take care of it, Michael. I think that would be best for you. I’ll let you decide. I really have to go now.”

“Alright. Thanks doc.”

“Oh, and while you are deciding, remember to keep the body in a cool place. Maybe a cool corner of your apartment. It’s pretty cold outside so the body shouldn’t rot a lot. Otherwise wrap it in a plastic bag and put it in your freezer. I have to go now Michael. Take care.”

Throw him out with the trash! Who does that?

Michael toyed with the idea of asking for the rest of the day off to take care of the body. It was a health issue. He forgot to take care of the body in the morning rush, and now he needed to go back and take care of it. It sounded reasonable but he knew Tony would never agree. He would only scream at him some more and remind him that it was just a dog.

“Hey Michael, late again huh?” Janice stood up and peered over the dividing wall between their cubicles. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” he mumbled and tried to get busy with work.

“Is that a picture of your dog?” she said, pointing to it.

He reached out, unpinned the picture and put it in his pocket. It was a picture of Hendrix when he had just got him as a pup. It had been almost six years.

Damn! Time flies so fast.

“Is your dog okay?”

“Damn it Janice, I know you heard everything! Stop pretending like you didn’t.”

“What? I didn’t hear anything. I have my own work to do, alright. My time is very valuable.”

“Then go do your fucking work!”

Her face turned red and she sat back down, but then got back up and, peering over the dividing wall, said, “I’ll report this to HR!”

What if I get up and hit her on the head with my keyboard? It would be like in that movie where Angelina Jolie can bend bullets and stuff. The keys will go flying, along with blood from her head. That would shut her up for a while.

Michael felt infuriated. It had been six years since he got Hendrix, and in those six years he had neither moved up the corporate ladder nor found a better job. He remembered that he had hated this job even before he got Hendrix. His dog came into his life, spent six years and left, yet here he was, still stuck in the same job and still hating it. But there was no way out of it. He was stuck. The market was worse than ever. He was lucky he hadn’t been fired yet. In this economy, a guy like him would be running circles around the unemployment office to get his weekly benefits check.

He spent the rest of the day working, and for a while even forgot about Hendrix. Tony made him stay longer because he’d come in late. After work, he floated along with the crowd—in and out of the subway—and walked back to his lonely apartment just as it started to snow again.

Hendrix was still lying under the blanket. Michael felt too tired to take care of the body. He decided that for the time being he should just put it in the freezer like the vet said, and decide what to do with it later. He got a garbage bag and removed the blanket.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

He put his hand in front of the dog’s mouth but he couldn’t feel anything. He lifted the dog and tried to shove him inside the garbage bag, but it wasn’t easy for one man to do alone. Hendrix was a Rottweiler. A big dog.

What if I cut him up like the gangsters do? That’s how a man takes care of his dead pet. I’ll be like, “Yeah, Hendrix died. I cut him up, put him in a bag and threw him in the river.” That would be cool!

He tried to get him into the garbage bag again, and this time succeeded. He tied a knot in the bag and lifted it, to test if it was strong enough to hold. It held, even though he felt that Hendrix had gained weight after dying.

He opened the fridge and realized that his freezer wasn’t big enough to hold the body. Even if he cut it up into little pieces he wouldn’t be able to stuff all of it in that freezer. He needed a deep freeze, the kind that you see in grocery stores for the meat and ice cream. He thought about stuffing it in the fridge. It was almost empty— just a pizza box containing a single leftover slice from a week ago, and a couple of cans of beer. If he removed a few trays he could stuff Hendrix in there. But then he’d have to get rid of the fridge as well and he couldn’t afford a new one right now, so he left Hendrix in the bag on the floor by the fridge.

He grabbed a beer, crashed on his couch and turned on the TV. The plastic bag containing Hendrix seemed to stare at him and he couldn’t focus on the show, so he just drank his beer and shifted around on the couch, struggling to get comfortable. He needed to decide what to do with the body. He couldn’t afford a private cremation, so the truth was that Hendrix would have to be cremated with a bunch of other animals. He could take the body to the vet and just forget about it. But it was too late to go to the vet tonight, and in the morning he would have to go to work.

I guess if he’s going to be cremated in a group and I’m not getting any ashes anyway, I might as well let the city do it.

He picked up the bag and took it downstairs, placing it in the snow next to the trash. He came back and drank the last can of beer and flicked through the channels some more before falling asleep on the couch.

He was flying. Or maybe falling. There was nothing around him, so there was no way to tell the difference. Everything was black and empty. He was probably in space but there were no stars around. No sun, no earth, no moon. It was just him and nothing. It was peaceful. He had an urge to pee. He wondered if he just did it, just let it fly, where would the pee go? Would it float in the nothingness as well? Then it will just be him and his warm pee, together in the nothingness. As he was considering this, he heard a beeping in the distance. It was an alarm of some sort. Maybe an alarm in one of those old style Casio digital wrist watches. It grew louder but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. Then he saw the ground far below him. He was falling to the ground and the beeping was coming from a truck on the street below him. It was the garbage truck that had come to take Hendrix. He screamed, but then saw that Hendrix was alive and sitting next to the garbage cans looking up at him, his tail wagging. Before he could say anything, the ground rushed up and he landed with a thud.

He woke up on the floor with a headache that felt as if he really had fallen from the sky. He needed to pee badly, but outside the garbage truck continued to beep. He realized suddenly that he had forgotten to tag the bag properly.

Hendrix!

He ran out of the apartment in his briefs. The sidewalk was covered in snow and he was barefoot. But that wasn’t the only reason why he skipped from one foot to the other. He picked up the bag. It was freezing cold. Inside, Hendrix was frozen as solid as a steak.

The garbage men looked at him and shook their heads. He thought about explaining things to them but he was going to pee in his underpants at any moment, so he ran back in with the frozen dog.

After peeing for what seemed like five minutes he could breathe again.

I was wondering where to freeze Hendrix when the biggest deep freeze was right outside all along!

He chuckled. But the problem still remained. The garbage truck was gone and the dead dog was still in his apartment, albeit frozen.

He looked at the time on his phone. It was only 7:30 am. For once he was up early, so he had some time to take care of the body on his own. A jolt of energy surged through him as he got an idea. He would change his entire life starting right now. He’d become one of those guys who get up and go and then get things done.

A getter upper. A get up and goer. A getting things doner!

He got dressed, picked up the bag and left the apartment. He came back in and closed the door. He had not decided what to do with the body. It was too early to take it to the vet. Maybe he could find the garbage truck down the street a few blocks away.

No way!

With all the authority that he could muster, he decided that he was not going to throw his dog in the trash.

He’s not just a dog. He’s my dog! He’s Hendrix.

He wasn’t going to let the city take him. He wasn’t going to let them decide what he should do with his dog.

To hell with them and their rules!

What he really wanted to do was to keep Hendrix with him. If he couldn’t afford a private cremation, that wasn’t really his fault. He was merely a creation of the system. He managed to get by, but had no savings at all. When he got the dog, no one told him he needed to start a dog funeral fund.

He thought about doing a cremation on his own. He tried to think of a safe place to start a fire and burn a dog but there was no such place for hundreds of miles. He couldn’t do it in the city. He’d have to go far into the wilderness to be able to burn his dog, but he had no car.

He dismissed a private cremation as unrealistic. The other option was burying the dog. Somewhere, where he could go to visit the grave whenever he wanted to. He couldn’t do it in the park because of all the people around. He couldn’t do it anywhere in his neighborhood because there was no unpaved ground.

We are living on an island of concrete!

Suddenly he had a brilliant idea that reinforced his faith in his own intelligence, and made him angry about the injustices that a person of his level of intelligence had to face in a world that was systematically designed to oppress him. He rushed out of the apartment, leaving the frozen bag on his living room floor. He came back in because it was still too early in the morning. Usually he couldn’t find any time in the morning, yet today time didn’t seem to move at all. He went over his plan in his mind.

I’m going to buy a wooden chest. Big enough for Hendrix. And I’ll need soil. Do they sell soil? I’ll just buy fertilizer. Do they sell fertilizer in the city?

I’ll have to skip work. Screw it! Tony can go to hell. I’m burying my dog in my own apartment. What’s even better, I’ll have a portable grave so I can carry him with me if I ever move. I should move. This city is full of phonies. I need to settle in the country somewhere. Where you have some god damn room to bury your dog!

I could even start a portable dog grave business! Hendrix’s Portable Dog Graves. If you have a dog, we have a grave for it.

When his thoughts returned to the present, it was 9:30. He thought about giving up his crazy idea and going back to work, but he’d be late again. He didn’t feel like facing Tony, so he decided to go ahead with his plan.

Six hours later he was in his living room again. Instead of a wooden chest, he had a large cardboard box. It turned out that wooden chests were quite expensive. Cardboard boxes on the other hand could be had for free—if you asked for them nicely—and you happened to have gone to school with the store manager. The cardboard box was too big to really be portable, but he would have enough room to make sure that Hendrix was buried properly, and that there would be no stink. He had also bought half a dozen bags of fertilizers and some flowers that he was going to plant on top of the box.

He filled the cardboard box with three bags of fertilizer and then placed Hendrix, still inside the plastic bag, on top of it. He figured the plastic would stop the bad odors. Then he filled the box up with the rest of the fertilizer. Some of the fertilizer was left over, so he tried to compress it, pushing it down and really stuffing it into the box. At that point, the cardboard box ripped open at the corner, and all the fertilizer poured out.

What he had now was not a grave of any kind, but instead a mound of fertilizer with his frozen dog somewhere inside, surrounded by cardboard on all sides, except for a giant rip in one corner. Next to it, white flowers in nursery bags lay on the floor.

He went out to a bar and drank beer until it was dark outside. During the day the sky had cleared and the sun had come out, but the extreme cold in the darkness suggested that the clouds had returned. His plan had been foolish and he had missed a day at the office for nothing.

No! I won’t let it all be for nothing.

He went back home and dug Hendrix out of the fertilizer mound. Then he searched for a shovel in his closet which was silly, because he knew he didn’t own a shovel. He wasn’t the kind of guy who had shovels or tools of any kind really. In the end, he settled for a steak knife. He rolled it up in a t-shirt and stuffed it in his jeans behind his back.

He went to the park. It was dark and cold, and there were very few people out. He went deeper inside the park until he found a secluded place. He had not been to the park that often with Hendrix, so he didn’t really know if Hendrix had a favorite tree or an area that he especially liked. So, he found a large tree that he thought would be recognizable whenever he came back to visit the secret grave.

The ground was covered with snow. He put the bag down and cleared off the snow with his hands. Once he cleared a large enough area, he took out the steak knife and began to dig. The ground was frozen solid and his hands were numb from the cold. He couldn’t get the knife very deep at all.

This is going to take a long time.

He was ready to spend all night digging the grave if he had to, so he kept at it. But after ten more minutes, he was sweating bullets and there was only a shallow, saucer shaped hole in the ground. A couple was staring at him, but he didn’t care anymore. He looked up and saw that the same couple was now talking to a cop a bit farther away.

He stuffed his knife back in his pants, picked up the garbage bag and ran away before the cop could chase him. Turns out it wasn’t that easy to run all the way out of the park while carrying a big frozen dog in a plastic bag. Once outside, he put the bag on the sidewalk while he tried to catch his breath. At this point, it was clear that he couldn’t dig a grave anywhere with a steak knife in the winter. His quiet rebellion was looking more and more hopeless.

No! I’m not giving up, damn it!

He hailed a cab and put the bag in the trunk. He told the driver to take him to Jersey. He got out in the neighborhood where Alex lived. The night air was frigid and it began to snow. He walked up to Alex’s house carrying the garbage bag in front of his chest like a baby.

Alex lived in a single family home with her husband. He wasn’t sure how she would react to him showing up suddenly after so many years, not to mention with a dead dog. So, instead of ringing the bell, he walked around to the backyard to see if he could catch her alone.

He looked inside a window and saw two little girls watching TV. They were twins, probably five or six years old, and they looked like Alex.

He felt creepy, like he was spying on the little girls, and turned to go back, but found a man waiting for him with a baseball bat.

“Whoa! I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to explain, but the man swung the bat at him anyway. He ducked and let go of the garbage bag. He backed away and just managed to escape the second swing.

The twins saw what was happening outside the window and screamed in unison.

“Its okay girls, daddy’s got this,” the man said and stalked over to Michael.

“Mommy!” the girls screamed in unison again.

When he swung the bat for the third time, Michael grabbed hold of it and snatched it out of his hands. He threw the bat in the corner and tried to calm the man down, but the man wasn’t listening and he tackled Michael to the ground. Michael had tried enough to explain things and it wasn’t working. He felt a sudden rage take over him, and he grappled with the man until he was on top, and then began throwing punches while screaming, “I’m sorry! I just wanted to bury my dog in your yard!”

“Oh my God, Michael! What the hell are you doing?” Alex came out into the back yard.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Michael said, and got up off her husband.

“You better have a good explanation, because it looks like you were trying to kill my husband!” Alex pointed to the stake knife on the ground that had fallen out of its t-shirt sheath.

“Oh no. That’s for digging. I’m so sorry,” he said to Alex. He turned around and offered his hand to her husband and said, “I’m so sorry man. But you wouldn’t listen.” The man swatted Michael’s hand away.

“Who is this guy, Alex?” he asked, getting up while holding his bleeding nose.

“He’s Michael. You remember, I told you about him?”

“Which one was Michael?” her husband asked.

“You told him… what… what did you tell him?” Michael asked.

“You better start explaining, Michael, or I’m calling the cops,” Alex said.

“Well… I… my dog… Hendrix died.”

“So?” Alex said.

“So… I wanted to bury him, because I couldn’t take him to the vet and then I was late for work and I couldn’t throw him in the trash, but then I decided to bury him in the apartment and the box broke and all the fertilizer…”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yeah Michael,” her husband stressed his name, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My dog is dead.”

“Yes, I get that much. But what are you doing in my backyard?” Alex said.

“I thought I could bury him.”

“In my backyard?”

Michael didn’t know what to say. He could hear how ridiculous it sounded. He wiped his forehead and felt a sharp pain above his eye. It was swollen and there was a slight cut, but no bleeding. He winced a little bit.

“Let me get this straight,” her husband said, “Your dog died and you thought you’d come in the middle of the night and bury it in our backyard. And then you attacked me?”

“You attacked me first! I tried to explain…”

“You broke my nose!”

“Well… you tackled me to the ground.”

“You snatched my bat!”

“You were trying to break my skull!”

“You sneaked into my yard! What was I suppose to do?”

“Alright, alright, both of you calm down,” Alex said, “Let’s go inside.”

Alex gave first aid to the wounded men. They sat down on the sofa, her husband with cotton stuffed up his nose and his head tipped back to prevent further bleeding. The twins stared at Michael.

“Did you hurt our daddy?” one of them said.

“Sorry about that,” Michael said, “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“What’s in the bag?” the other one said.

“It’s my… it’s my stuff.”

“Is it your dog?” the first one said, and the second one quickly followed it up, “Is it dead?” Then both of them said in unison, “Can we see it?”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two. Time for bed.” Alex took the twins off to bed amid their complaints about being robbed of the great adventure of seeing a dead dog.

“Mom, can we get a dog? Will it die?” They asked as she was tucking them in.

“No, and yes, and that’s why I said no.”

When she came back down, Michael confessed that he was just out of his mind. He didn’t want the city to take his dog. He didn’t know what else to do. He apologized for coming there and beating up her husband.

“You didn’t beat me up, buddy. I was going to flip you and then I would have broken your nose as well, you know,” her husband said.

“Sure man,” Michael said.

“You can’t bury him here, Michael,” Alex said.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll take him back. Put him in the trash. If you tag it correctly they take care of it, you know.”

Alex looked at him for a few seconds and then told him to follow her. She took him to the garage and took out a shovel.

“You really don’t have to bury him in your backyard, Alex,” Michael said.

“I’m not,” Alex said, and put the shovel in the boot of her SUV. “I’ll be back in a while,” she said to her husband.

“Be safe,” he said.

“Come on, bring your dog,” she said to Michael.

“I… I really don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Bring the dog. Come on, hurry up.”

They drove out of Jersey and crossed Newark to find the closest forest reserve. Michael wanted to thank her but couldn’t speak, because he was afraid his voice would be squeaky. He swallowed hard and breathed a heavy sigh. They drove to the edge of a wooded area and then walked in, holding flashlights. The snow had stopped but it was still freezing cold. They came to a clearing and stopped.

“This looks like a nice spot,” she said, “what do you think?”

He nodded and put the bag down. He took the shovel and began to dig. The ground was even harder here, but with some effort he was able to rip it open. When he got tired, she tried to pitch in but it was too hard for her. He continued to dig and she stood and watched, hugging herself tight against the cold. After a while he began to talk.

“You know, I got him right after we broke up.”

“Is that right? What’s that, six years?”

“Yeah. Six years.”

“How time flies, huh?”

He nodded.

“Your daughters are wonderful.”

“Yeah? Say that after spending a full day with them.”

He laughed.

“Too bad your husband is a wimp.”

“Hey, shut up! He’s a great guy.”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. He’s a lucky guy for sure.”

“What? Now you want a family? Have you come around Michael?”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just. Seeing you with your family…”

“Family is a good thing, Michael. Just like I kept telling you all the time.”

“I should’ve listened to you. Wouldn’t be so damn lonely right now. The only one I had…” his voice cracked, he choked up and bit his lower lip, trying to keep it together. He pointed to the bag as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Michael,” she stepped forward and hugged him for a long time. “Don’t worry Michael. You’ll find someone. It’ll happen for you. You just weren’t ready. But you are now. Maybe this knowledge is one last gift this dog has given you.”

He wiped his tears and nodded. The grave seemed to be deep enough now. It had taken a long time to dig and Alex had all but frozen, but Michael was sweating inside his clothes.

He removed the body from the bag and lowered Hendrix in the ground.

“He was a beautiful dog,” Alex said. “What was his name again?”

“Hendrix. I don’t know why. I just like Hendrix I guess.”

“You want to say a few words?”

He stood up straight and crossed his hands in front of him. He didn’t know what the right words were for such a moment so he just said whatever came to mind.

“Hendrix was a good dog. He pooped a lot inside my apartment but that’s mostly my fault. I never really took him for any walks. He ate several of my boots and to this day I don’t know how he digested them because they were completely gone. I mean not even a shoelace in the poop, you know?”

Alex smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Still, he was a good dog. He was there for me when everyone else left me. And now he’s gone and he’s taught me an important lesson.”

He began to choke up again so he decided to end it.

“May he rest in peace.”

They both threw a little bit of dirt into the grave. The darkness had begun to fade into a still grayness. He looked at Hendrix one last time.

Still looks like he’s just sleeping.

Then he covered the grave to the top. In the dawn light they found a few stones and placed them around the grave to mark it. Alex took him back and dropped him at the train station.

“Thanks for everything Alex,” he said.

“You take care now, Michael,” she said.

On her way back she decided that it was time she got a dog for the twins after all.