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MADISON
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People started to appreciate the little things during this time, people like Mr. and Mrs. Howard. The Howards were American; the young couple lived in a decent-sized house together, and they were quite well off. Kids weren’t exactly their common interest, but Mrs. Howard had a special love: her dog, Madison, a poodle mix. Mrs. Howard loved that dog like a mother loves her child. And Madison loved Mrs. Howard, always looking forward to her return from the movies or from a lovely dinner with Mr. Howard. Madison would bark at the sound of the car pulling up in the drive way, and when the family came through the double doors, Madison would nearly knock Mrs. Howard over with excitement and joy. “Madison!” Mrs. Howard would say (with a slight inflection in her tone, as if she were talking to a baby) upon sight of her dog. She loved the little things.
The years went by. Mr. and Mrs. Howard would still enjoy a movie and a meal together; still enjoy the comfort of a best friend licking faces at home. But, their trips would last a little longer and the intervals between them would extend. Life goes on, but they were still a happy couple, and Mrs. Howard still loved the ever consistent Madison.
After church one day, Mrs. Howard came across an interesting article in the Sunday pamphlet.
“Well, according to this, Madison doesn’t have a soul,” she said to Mr. Howard.
“What were you saying, honey?” said Mr. Howard. They were driving home.
“I guess all dogs don’t go to heaven then?” said Mrs. Howard in jest.
“Who says?” said Mr. Howard.
“This.” She held the pamphlet in front of him. Mr. Howard glanced at it for a second, but kept his focus on the road. “It says Madison doesn’t have a soul.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Howard. “That dog is smart, you see the way she jumps on you? How can a sweet dog like that not go to heaven?”
“The church says otherwise,” said Mrs. Howard. “But how can that be true?”
They pulled into the driveway. As they were walking towards the house, they could hear Madison’s bark of joy. “Hear that?” said Mr. Howard. “She’s mad at you, honey.”
Mrs. Howard laughed and slapped Mr. Howard’s arm with her hand for fun. “Hey!” said Mr. Howard. “You said it!”
Mrs. Howard fumbled in her purse for the keys to the house. She opened the door, and Madison jumped on her, like normal. “How does this dog not have a soul?” she said lovingly to Madison, as she rubbed behind her ears. “How does Madison not have a soul?”
“Looks like she’s mad,” said Mr. Howard.
Mrs. Howard turned around. “Stop it Michael!” she said with a smile on her face. “Look, she loves you, too!” Madison trotted towards Mr. Howard.
* * *
It was a wonderful time at the theatre that late Friday night. Mr. and Mrs. Howard were driving home with smiles on their faces laughing through the whole trip, falling in love again. Mr. Howard was doing an impression of the main actor in the movie.
“Oh stop it, Michael! You do not look anything like Jameson! And hurry up; it’s already almost eleven and Madison’s still at home!”
Mr. Howard was talking with a British accent. He slicked back his hair and quoted from the movie, “Really, ma’am? Are you sure you want to go home now, while there’s adventure ahead?”
They drove up the driveway. Mrs. Howard laughed at her husband. “You’re not twenty Michael, and I don’t think Jameson has that!” She tugged at the faint wrinkles near his eyes.
“Ow! Stop it!” said Mr. Howard, massaging his eyes.
They got out of the car and walked towards the house. Mrs. Howard was snickering at Mr. Howard, but then stopped.
“Ma’am…” said Mr. Howard again in the accent. “You seemed to have left the—“
“Michael,” said Mrs. Howard. Mr. Howard listened; it was silent.
Immediately, Mrs. Howard looked for her keys. “Madison?” said Mr. Howard. Mrs. Howard scanned the key.
“Madison?”
* * *
Mrs. Howard loved that dog, and Madison loved Mrs. Howard. She couldn’t replicate that bond; she accepted the fact that she would never see her shining eyes again or hear her bark as she opened the door. She would never pet her soft, black fur nor would she receive her unconditional love. The half empty bag of food was still in the pantry, and Madison’s metal bowls still sat in the corner. Her bed was still on the ground, with a clear indentation in its stuffing. Mr. Howard wanted to break the depression that had settled over the house.
“How about we go out tonight honey?” said Mr. Howard. Mrs. Howard sat on the rocking chair.
“Michael…I don’t really feel like going out tonight, we can just order—“
“Honey,” interrupted Mr. Howard. “Honey, someday…you’re going to have to…to…forget about Madison.” He spoke the words with reluctance.
“Forget?” said Mrs. Howard. “How can you say that Michael? And it’s not about Madison…”
“Yes it is and you know it,” said Mr. Howard.
“How do you know!” said Mrs. Howard. She was raising her voice. “How do you know?”
“Oh come on honey!” he said, drawing out the syllables. “Why else would you act like this?”
“She was mine, Michael! Don’t you understand that?” said Mrs. Howard.
“I did…I do—“
“No you don’t Michael!” she shouted. “You never did know! Let’s go out to eat then. Fine!”
“Honey,” said Mr. Howard. Mrs. Howard began to shed tears. “Maria…”
“Just shut up Michael!” said Mrs. Howard with a lump in her throat. “Go get your damn food…I’ll just make something here!”
“Honey!” said Mr. Howard. She walked briskly to the kitchen, with Mr. Howard following behind her, and opened the pantry. She grabbed a can from the top shelf, but it slipped and fell to the ground, beside Madison’s food. Mrs. Howard tried to ignore the can and reach for a second one, but she broke down, turned around, and hugged her husband.
“Michael…” she said. Mr. Howard’s shirt soaked the tears. “She was mine. She was mine.”
“I know, Maria,” said Mr. Howard. He put his hand on the back of her head.
* * *
Life goes on. Mrs. Howard walked through the door one day to find her husband home early, with a smile on his face.
“I know you can’t end the day without a Diet Coke, honey,” said Mr. Howard. She smiled.
“Michael?” she questioned. “Why are you home so early?”
Mr. Howard handed his wife the soda, and told her, “I have a surprise for you, honey! Come to our bedroom!”
“Michael…” she said in an untrusting, but playful tone. “What did you buy? Pay day isn’t till Friday!”
“I know, but…you’ve just got to see,” said Mr. Howard. “She’s charging.”
Mrs. Howard stopped dead still; her mouth was open in shock. “No…no,” she mouthed. She was out of breath, and her face turned pale. “Michael, no, please tell me you didn’t…”
“Maria, come here, hold my hand,” said Mr. Howard reaching out his hand. Part of Mrs. Howard wanted to collapse to the floor if what she feared was true, but the curious part took her husband’s hand. They walked slowly towards the bedroom door. Step by step. Mrs. Howard was breathing very slowly, and she heard only muffled sounds. She exhaled and turned the corner as Mr. Howard pushed open the door. The window by the bedside let in the bright sunlight; it reflected off the white carpet onto the pale comforter on the cloud-like bed. The furniture was black, but glossy, and reflected more light onto every corner of the room. But, the only light Mrs. Howard saw was the small flashing indicator light on the transformer next to her Madison.
Mrs. Howard inhaled deeply and nearly fell down, her eyes fixated on her dog, but Mr. Howard supported her. “Honey, don’t worry. She’ll be ready in a few minutes.” He lifted her wife to her feet; she supported herself on the door frame. “She’s here…Madison’s here!” he said.
Mrs. Howard’s ears began to hear definite sound again. She gained control of her senses, turned to Mr. Howard, and yelled, “What did you do to her!!!”
Mr. Howard held her hands and said, “Maria, she’s here again!”
Mrs. Howard stared in disgust. She knew what her husband did. She read the news articles; she watched the controversy. It was legal and it was simple. First, they took detailed measurements of the corpse. They created a personality profile based on the customer’s recollections. Then, they put the skin on a customized robotic skeleton. Seamless and simple; “Now your best friend can live with you forever!” But Mrs. Howard was disgusted.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER!!!” yelled Mrs. Howard. “MADISON WAS DEAD!!!”
The indicator light switched off. Madison opened her eyes and stood up on her four paws. She turned around, saw Mrs. Howard. Madison’s eyes lit up; there was even a sort of smile on her face as she ran to love Mrs. Howard. The dog’s tale wagged back and forth rapidly.
Mrs. Howard only breathed, “Oh” before the dog jumped on her, this time successfully knocking her down. She licked her owner and rubbed her muzzle on her face and in her hair. Mrs. Howard smiled very slightly on one side. She touched her dog’s ear, and slowly crept her fingers behind it, where she scratched. Madison licked her face again. Time went back for Mrs. Howard, back to the days when she was young and her dog was alive. “She is alive,” thought Mrs. Howard. Her youth was reinvigorated, and Madison made her feel as if no time passed between that night and today. Mr. Howard put his arm around her (she was only thinking this of course) and for once more, they were a family again. They had no kids, but they had their dog, Madison. And Madison loved her owner. Then, Mrs. Howard felt under the torso. It was a long bump, the kind a human gets when they scratch their arm and the mark swells. The seam of a seamless animal.
Mrs. Howard pushed Madison back and screamed; her vision ceased. She rose to her feet quickly, nearly tripping over, and ran back the hallway. Madison quickly followed her, thinking she was playing. Mr. Howard ran after his wife out the front door. “Maria! MARI—“ The door behind them slammed shut, the sound echoed throughout the house, and Madison was left inside alone. She clawed at the door trying to get out, whimpering for her owner. After realizing that she could not exit through the door, she laid down in front of it with her head held high, waiting for her owner to return so that she could knock her over and lick her face. Any audible sound she heard, her ears perked up and her tail wagged, in anticipation of her owner’s return. Any car that drove by could have been Mrs. Howard’s. Madison waited diligently, looking up through the window at the sky. She took joy in the little things, only to be disappointed when the sounds ceased and the cars drove on. The sun slowly shifted towards the horizon as time took its course. Madison laid her head on the ground because she was growing tired. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she observed a bird flying past the window, or a cloud reflecting the sunlight to the earth below. Sounds became less apparent. The sky grew darker. The sun set. Madison waited for Mrs. Howard, but the car never came and the door never opened. The sky was filled with bright stars now, and the moonlight shined through the window pane and reflected off of Madison’s desperate eyes. She looked at the door, closed her eyes, laid down her tail, and tilted her head; as the last bit of voltage left her body…she remembered Mrs. Howard.
