“God is Good”
By Marc-Anthony Hurr

The plants hung from above, basking in the sunlight. The leaves–some yellow, some purple, many green–looked so delicious to Mr Dribblesworth. The floorboards creaked up at him as he lumbered towards the shrubs. The closest one had a very special quality about it. It was absolutely perfect for pooing next to. Just the right shade, just the right suggestion of safety, just the right warmth. Whenever Mr Dribblesworth came near, regardless of his departing intentions, he quickly found himself preparing to defecate at the foot of the china pot.

Mr Dribblesworth loved his house. It was his realm. This morning, like all mornings, he had checked every corner and sniffed every surface, and was able to confirm once more that the kingdom was completely safe.

Despite its many promising features, the house was not devoid of flaws. One particularly pertinent example would be the situation regarding his own excreta. It happens, as Mr Dribblesworth discovered one fine morning after visiting the plant in the china pot with the special quality about it, that it was outright forbidden. Forbidden to Mr Dribblesworth, in any case.

The being that decided these sorts of rules was God. God was a human. God had far reaching powers of incomprehensible complexity. It quickly became apparent to Mr Dribblesworth that God had command over, well, pretty much everything. For instance, God decided when Mr Dribblesworth had food. God decided when Mr Dribblesworth went to the toilet. God could even decide to change the current kingdom for a new one for a few days, and then change back again. God decided when new plants were going to be born. Sometimes they were born adults! Sometimes he would bring dead ones. Sometimes he would eat them. 

It made Mr Dribblesworth quite giddy at times.

But the most important thing of all was this. Mr Dribblesworth knew, truly and deeply, that God was the best thing ever. This much was evident, because God would regularly provide Mr Dribblesworth with the following: a) warm fuzzy feelings inside, b) cuddles and huggles and snuggles, c) FOOD, d) adventures, e) water.

For example, God would come through the door in the evening after work, and immediately there would be a lot of (a), followed by (b) simultaneously with (a), then (d), and a bit later (c) and (e) together. It was amazing and it happened nearly every day.

Mr Dribblesworth was very happy.

Every morning, God would take Mr Dribblesworth for his morning adventure. Today Mr Dribblesworth was really excited, mostly because adventures were the best thing ever, but also because he hadn’t been to the toilet since the night before and his bladder felt strained. Droplets of wee led to footprints on the floor by the door.

They popped out the gate and Mr Dribblesworth immediately began to relieve himself. Though the reasons for this were not abundantly clear, any location outside of the kingdom was fair game regarding urine.

Mr Dribblesworth scampered forward, closing in on an intriguing scent. Could it be… bin juice? Ever a Russian roulette, these black human sacks could provide anything from an exquisite cocktail to an early grave. But as he zeroed in, God exercised one of his most used but no less impressive powers: kinaesthetic sorcery. A force began to squeeze on Mr Dribblesworth’s throat, choking, pulling. Mr Dribblesworth stopped in his tracks, and the pain subsided. He turned back, and there came his beautiful God, smiling, stroking him.

After walking down the pavement for a bit, God and Mr Dribblesworth came to the park. Mr Dribblesworth considered the park to be one of the absolute finest parts of his adventures with God. He loved the grass and the trees. To sense them on his fur, to smell them. It felt like coming home. And then, a few metres away –unbelievable. A rare sighting. A female of his own kind. Mr Dribblesworth stood up straight, alert, unmoving, as though taught over a copper frame. His nose twitched. There was only one thing for it: he would need to sniff her bottom. Mr Dribblesworth pounced forward, sensing minor kinaesthetic sorcery at his neck, but it yielded enough and he made some ground. In a moment, his nose was happily buried in her anus. Many things could be learned from such investigative sniffing.

Above him, Mr Dribblesworth’s God was speaking to the God of his new acquaintance.

“Hey Andy, good to see you. Mr D’s looking pretty excited today!”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry he’s all over your girl like that. As you know we’ll be heading down to the vets soon enough to have that dealt with.”

Andy lurched forward. Mr D had pounced and began to mount the female dog. Forward and backward, with intention, like a piston.

Need for action gripped Andy. “Get back here!” He yanked the leash with decisive force.

A double yelp reverberated. There was shock in the first, desperation in the second.

Upon landing, Mr D began to growl aggressively at his lost mate. Then he barked, loudly, repeatedly.

“Alright buddy, let’s go now.” And he dragged the squirming and fighting animal back towards home.

Back in the flat, Mr Dribblesworth was noisily lapping up some water. It had been another great instalment of his morning adventures with God. Mr Dribblesworth had sniffed 3 bottoms, licked 1 pool of dry vomit, smelt 39 scents of which 36 new and 3 known. But there had also been the incident. There had been a depth to the dragging anguish he had felt, when the kinaesthetic sorcery had pulled him by the throat. It wasn’t the first time Mr Dribblesworth had felt the dragging anguish. He had felt it on those first nights in Andy’s care, as a puppy, when he looked for his mother’s warmth in the darkness. For hours he had searched, for days he had cried. He also felt it when the grip of sorcery around his throat would not let him come close, smell, give love, to another of his kind. It made him shout and cry and lash out. Other times he would feel it as he lay in the flat alone, eyes shaking and head bursting, parched with thirst, God having forgotten his water.

In such times Mr Dribblesworth dreamt of roaming free, God skipping at his side, among flowered fields that lay beneath heavens of hopeful blue. There would be other Mr Dribblesworths there, there would even be other Gods. The kingdom would be large, and safe, with no poo and wee limitations and no need for kinaesthetic sorcery.

He began to feel the beckoning finger of the sinking darkness. He made his way to the living room to request some cuddles from God.

“What’s happening to you my dear boy?” Andy ruffled his dear friend’s fur. He met the dog’s eyes.

The internet had told Andy that this behaviour was normal. An ageing dog that had never used his reproductive organ was susceptible to cancer, as well as aggressive behaviour around other dogs. Dogs could get depressed, according to studies, and castration was known to mitigate such symptoms. Reduced testosterone typically led to an increased life span and more docile behaviour.

Andy kissed Mr D’s wet nose. Is this what his dog wanted?

Mr Dribblesworth lay down on his pillow. God had just shut the door behind him, maybe forever. It had been a difficult night. Mr Dribblesworth needed God, needed to feel some life up against him, didn’t want to be alone. But he was alone. At some late hour, he woke from a nightmare and yelped. After a while, God finally came, eyes red. He made loud hacking noises with his mouth, and seemed very angry at Mr Dribblesworth. God slapped the door firmly shut behind him. So Mr Dribblesworth kept quiet, kept the tears bubbling low, so God would not be angry any more.

On his pillow this morning, the tears bubbled once more. Now that God was not here to be angry, Mr Dribblesworth could let his cries be as loud as the sorrow he felt. God had gone and returned many times before, but this time was it for good?

Hours passed. It was already beginning to get dark again when Mr Dribblesworth fell asleep.

Knocks on the steps. Metal scratching at the door. That slightly farty scent. It was God!

Mr Dribblesworth and God fell into a tussle of cuddles and huggles and snuggles. Fingers on his belly. OH MY HEAVENS BELLY RUBS. Mr Dribblesworth fell on his back with his legs splayed out wide. Have at me. And God went in, soft caresses, playful scratches. A whirlwind of sensations filled Mr Dribblesworth’s mind. His eyes were shut, as he felt, and felt, until it stopped.

A notification had taken Andy away. A message from the neighbour said: “Your dog crying all day. Please deal with it, it wakes up the baby and my husband works from home.”

Andy sighed.

Andy hung up the phone. The session was booked, a week from today. Another thing sorted.

Andy knelt down and ruffled the fur on Mr D’s head.

“Who’s gonna be neutered next week? Mr D is! How do you feel about that Mr D?” Andy laughed.

Mr D reacted to the attention from his master with joy. True joy, pure joy. Tongue out, eyes wide, gaze loving.

“There’s a good boy. It’ll be quick and easy, and you’ll hardly feel any pain.” Andy’s knees began to complain, so he stood up and walked over to his laptop. Back to work.

Mr Dribblesworth remained where he was, tongue out, sat at the foot of his perfect God.

Today was a good day, because God had given Mr Dribblesworth a lot of attention. He had received a treat in the morning for no reason at all, a treat a bit later for allowing rope to be put around his neck, another treat for going in the car, and yet another treat for sitting patiently in the white building. Each treat had been just as delicious as the last, and there were many warm and fuzzy feelings being felt. Days like this when God and Mr Dribblesworth did things together were the best thing ever.

There were some other friends in the white building. Some were very small, some were very smelly, and some were very sleepy. Others required further bottom sniffing before any official conclusions could be drawn.

God was caressing his head all the time, and looking at him. God was making some interesting noises with his mouth and saying his name a lot. God was the best.

“Do we have Andy here, with Mr D?”

Andy signalled to the veterinarian and wandered over with his dog. He lingered over his loyal buddy as the leash exchanged hands. “I’ll see you on the other side my good man. You’ll be a good boy. I love you.”

His dog’s eyes filled with sorrow as they parted. For a startled moment Andy thought Mr D knew what awaited him, knew what Andy had sentenced him to. But his dog was always sad when they separated.

“It’s just for a moment, my friend.”

The next few days were a fog for Mr Dribblesworth. All was blurry. Smells were confused, nothing kept still. He slept a lot. At times, there was a frightening pain down below. He felt the urge to lick it, to smell it, to investigate. But a wall had been built around his head. Sometimes Mr Dribblesworth cried. A crevasse of fear would open. Was he in danger?

Food would be placed in front of him, figures moving through the mist. Water.

At times, the confusion would subside. In those moments, his body would tell him that something important had happened, something that meant he was different now. It was always going to be different, from now on.

The confusion would return in a gust, sensations lost to numbness. Thick fog.

And then, God would appear. His loving face, his perfect smile. Stillness returned. Warmth.

Everything was perfect when God was here.

END