Growing On Up

Elliot is the name of the dog I met in Tourette, France. He was a greyhound. I modeled the dog, and the little boy's name, after him. I miss you Elliot!

(this was a quick, one day write so ignore any mistakes please!)

The darn thing squirmed beneath his touch, thrusting it’s bony skull around and flashing the pure white that hid on the sides of its black eyes. Fear. But it only elicited more terror in Elliot, who had been raised, like most, to treat animals with respect. Was he hurting this thing in his saving of it? Elliot remembered that society believes humans deserve more respect than animals. Was this because humans’ brains are further developed? Does that mean that Tom, who sat behind Elliot in school and loudly failed each class, deserved less respect than Elliot did? His mother was always saying that Tom was a bad influence, but Elliot couldn’t quite grasp why. Elliot wondered if he thought of Tom as a less important person than he was. Was he someone who deserved less respect? Was anyone? Tom was always saying the dumbest things…

Elliot had just turned the age where boys begin to lose their natural-given kindness. Eleven, or so. Still, he tried, though now it took some more effort, to be kind to everyone. Tom wasn’t kind to very many people. He even made fun of Elliot’s new bike, which Elliot had begged for and sat through the “expensive things should be taken care of” talk with his parents. Elliot had to work to regain his love for his beautiful bike, all because of Tom. After that, Elliot vowed to never act like Tom. But why should he be kind when Tom isn’t? He would often contemplate why does anything for other people when others do not. Maybe it was because of his mother, who felt that kindness needed to be acted upon only so that others around town could see it. Or it could have been because of his father, whose quiet rebellion against society’s insincere and unauthentic nature created what Elliot believed (without quite knowing the term yet) to be a superiority complex. After some reflection, Elliot decided that he didn’t choose to be kind because of the people around him, but because of what the universe had so graciously rested upon his soul: a moral compass.

Because of said compass, Elliot learned that dogs were squirmy, and extremely adequate at thrashing. He had been biking home from school, squeezing the side of the road and thinking of the beauty of his new bike and the passing cars’ ability to instantly kill him, when he saw the sleek and shiny thing. There weren’t stray dogs in the countryside. It had never occurred to Elliot to ask for, or even want, a dog. But here was his own sentient creature to dominate and domesticate. He would have to do something out of the ordinary - strange, even - for this dog to be his. This was not lost on the little boy.

He had never once acted in an impulsive way since he had become a conscious human. This fact was also not lost on Elliot. Sure, he felt extraordinary and bizarre thoughts constantly strangle his mind, but he kept his quiet nature like a vow. He had no siblings, working parents, and far too many chores for consistent friends.

Maybe that’s why he grabbed the thing. The creature had only patches of fur, ribs poking through paper-thin skin, and eyes that bulged out of its head. It was a greyhound, and was barely strong enough to stand. Elliot hadn’t realized anything could be so skinny. It wriggled away and tried to run, but its legs gave out. His life would be different now, he marveled. A forever friend, because of an outstanding deed. He thought about recounting this very day later in the future. The creature would rest its head on his lap gratefully, and he would smile.

Elliot awkwardly held it in his arms and walked the rest of the way home - about an hour. His bike lay abandoned. Being an unathletic child, the journey was so treacherous that he had to keep stopping to hold back tears and take deep breaths. He could only think of his own kindness, and the hope that his parents would understand. His new dog. His heroism. His friend and his kindness.

The starved creature died overnight. The sight of the bony thing in the morning light, lifeless and pure, struck Elliot so profoundly that he had to sit down and remember who he was. He had never felt so hopeless in his entire life.

Elliot’s dad dropped him off where he left his bike, but it had been stolen. His mother had to drive him to school now, and Elliot could only stare at the grey fields and clouds as she condemned him for his lack of maturity and empathy. Didn’t he know that now she would have to take time out of her day to drive him? Didn’t he understand that he wasn’t trusted to be gifted anything exciting for a long time? Had he thought of that? Elliot pressed his nose against the window, but it wouldn’t stay. The moisture of his tears made it slip, so he rested his chin in his hand, never daring to look at his mother. The soft skin of his little palm pressed the tears hard against his mouth and cheeks, and the warmth and dampness reminded him only of his little creature, soft and alone. Like this, they rolled down the country roads. Once he got to school, he kissed his mom on the cheek and shut the car door.

Elliot began to spend some more time with Tom. No one treated him like a stray.