I was woken up on a gray, gloomy, and rainy monday morning from the squawking sound of them arguing again. They never stop. Whenever they're together, they always yell, and argue, and fight, and never stop. My eyes could barely open I was so tired. I couldn't fall asleep because again, they were fighting. I stood up, shook myself awake, and went to go eat breakfast. As I got closer to my bowl, the hollow, annoying sound of them bickering in their bedroom grew louder. What could you possibly be fighting about this early in the morning? Something about both of them not being able to take their son to preschool because they both “have to get to work” I feel bad for that little guy. I mean he's only 5 and his parents barely pay any attention to him because they're arguing all of the time. I had gotten to my silver, empty bowl, and found out that they hadn’t gotten around to feeding me yet. I crawled to the stairs to let out a piercing whine. As I waited for them to realize that they hadn’t fed me yet, I heard that their fighting had turned into calm, steady voices saying,
“Good morning buddy. How'd you sleep?” asked the father. “Good!” the little boy replied with his high voice. “That's good sweetheart. How about we go downstairs and get some breakfast?”
the mother said calmly. “Okay! Can I have cinnamon buns mommy?” the little boy bounced on his tip
toes.
“Sure bud, but that means you have to be eat all of your supper tonight,” answered the father.
“And you have to be good at preschool today. No taking toys away from other kids, or arguing with the teacher. You have to be good for mommy and daddy, can you do that?” added the mother.
“Yes mommy. I'll be good at preschool.” said the little boy with ease.
“Okay good, then let's go. We don’t have a lot of time.” the mother exclaimed to the boy. When the boy came downstairs, I ran up and tackled him slobbering all over his face.
“Ha ha ha! Bandit! What are you doing?” laughed the boy historically. He rubbed his hands on my head, and wrapped his arms around my stomach tightly.
“You’re the best dog ever, Bandit” he said as he rubbed my back. He kissed my head and ran down to the kitchen. I creeped up the stair and sat down on the bedroom floor.
“Mommy, daddy, are you coming?” screeched the little boy.
“We’ll be right down honey!” said the mother loudly. But 20 minutes passed and they still weren't downstairs, they're still in their bedroom, arguing. Finally, the mother said,
“You know what? I'll just be late to work and take him.” the mother put on her makeup in a frustrated matter
“Thank you! I’m sorry, but I actually have work to do.” the father said proud of himself.
The mother stopped what she was doing and slammed her makeup brush on the bathroom counter,
“What is that supposed to mean? I do just as much work as you do!”
“You go and cut people’s hair, it’s not that hard! I have to get up early every morning and go teach a school­ful of kids that hate me!” replied the father easily.
The mother turned around infuriated “How dare you! I may not make much, but I sure do work my as­­” “Mommy, I’m hungry. When are we making cinnamon buns?” interrupted the boy.
The mother looked at the clock on her phone. “Oh my gosh! We have to go! I totally lost track of time, I’m sorry honey, we won’t
be able to make cinnamon buns this morning.” the mother said afraid of what might happen next.
“But you said that we could make cinnamon buns.” the boy started getting tears in his eyes.
“I promise honey, we will make cinnamon buns tomorrow morning. How about that?” the mother suggested trying to get him to calm down.
“But I want them now!” the boy whimpered.
“I know honey, I wish we had more time. Tomorrow morning we’ll make whatever you want.” the mother promised.
“Okay mommy.” the boy whispered trying to hold the tears back.
“Why don’t you go get dressed while your father and I finish getting ready?” the mother hugged the boy.
“Okay.” the boy sighed.
“Oh! And guess what bud!” the father exclaimed, “Guess who’s picking you up from school today!”
“Grandma?!” the boy got a giant grin on his face.
“Yeah! You’re gonna go to her house and play and have some dinner with her!” the father said excitedly for his son.
“Okay! I can’t wait!” jumped the boy up and down. The boy ran into his room, and quickly put his clothes on. The mother and the father didn’t say another word to each other after the conversation they just had.
“Are you ready, honey?” the mother walked into the boy’s room. “Yep! Why are you and daddy all dressed up?” the boy asked. “Him and I have a meeting when you get out of school, that’s why you’re going
over grandma’s house.” the mother answered. “Okay! I can’t wait to see grandma!” the boy exclaimed. I followed the boy
downstairs. The boy grabbed his rain jacket, said goodbye to his father, and ran out the door. The father came running down the stairs tying his tie with a white folder tucked under his arm. He grabbed a protein bar, placed the folder on the counter, and ran out the door. I plopped myself on the cold, hard floor in the middle of the kitchen not being disturbed by the arguing, and drifted off.
*** It was five years ago when they had first adopted me. It was a very happy time,
no fighting, no arguing, and no bickering. These owners were much better owners than
my last owners. These ones wouldn’t beat me for the fun of it. Instead, they cared for me, and fed me, and loved me. We would all have fun and play all of the time. In the summers, we would go on long bike rides, and go to the park, and go out for ice cream, the mother would always get mint chip, the father, rocky road, the boy would always plead for cotton candy, and they would always get me a dish of vanilla. In the winters, we’d all go sledding at our secret sledding hill that only we knew about, and come home and the mother, father, and the boy would all make scorching hot chocolate, and I would get a spoonful of peanut butter. While my owners would sip on their thick, and creamy hot chocolate, we would all sit by the fire and watch Christmas movies. But then it all changed. They grew old of each other, and started fighting. They started fighting about the smallest things: what to have for dinner, who should drive the boy to school, what tv show to watch, and so much more. They would fight and never stop. There were nights where the father slept on the couch because he didn’t want to sleep with the mother, and there have been nights where the mother cried herself to sleep because the fighting was so bad. They never get along.
*** I was woken up up from the sound of the front door creaking open, and the father
rushing in, on the phone with the mother, again, arguing. “I didn't forget! I was gonna come back to the house to get it anyways!” The father bickered. He grabbed the folder that he had placed on the counter that morning.
“Okay well I've got it now, and I'm on my way. Bye.” He slammed the phone shut. He rushed out the door much like the morning of, but when he hurried out the door with the dull, white folder in his hands, a piece of paper hadn't caught the father's attention when it had feathered its way onto the ground. I trotted my way to it and saw that on the the front of the piece of paper, in big, bold, black letters, was the word “Divorce.” I walked away from the piece of paper and plopped myself back down on the cold, hard ground of the kitchen floor. I had seen it coming, there was no way that they were going to stay together any longer with all of that fighting that they do. I just don't get what's so hard about getting along with someone, especially if they're your spouse who is the person that you're sworn to for life. It just doesn't make any sense. My thoughts were interrupted by the gurgling sound of my empty stomach. I whimpered, and drifted off again to the thought of what it'd be like to wake up every day to the silence of peace.