Small Deaths (New Stories) (Short Story‪)‬

Jehovah didn't die the way he was supposed to. He didn't do a lot of things a dog was supposed to do; he cringed whenever anyone said walk, barked madly every time the toast popped up, refused to play fetch. Tennis balls frightened him. Storm drains, too, and water, and other dogs. I bought him for my youngest daughter, who named him, walked him once, and declared him a scaredy cat. My husband, who hadn't wanted a dog in the first place, said that if I ever asked him to walk Jehovah, he'd walk him all the way back to the pound. I said Do it, and I'll walk you straight to divorce court. Jehovah made me feel brave. Sane. Capable of fending off danger, or at least buying the right kind of kibble.