Roasting the Dog

                                                  Roasting the dog
“We roasted the dog!” I said exasperated sitting in the prison cell, awaiting fate. Our fate took form of a lawyer. Our life in their hands, I shuddered as I realised how they must feel. We'd been told a psychiatrist was coming later too.

“We did?” Gregory was losing it. He kept forgetting everything. He asked me what he looked like an hour ago. I didn’t have a mirror, and so I had to guide him through the concept of green eyes, black hair and average height, this was the fourth time today and the guards weren't allowed to give us any medication for him until after the psychiatrist arrived.

“Yes, well, it wasn’t entirely intentional. We just wanted to get the stupid mutt off the stove.”

"How did a dog get on the stove?"

"His name is, was, buster and I don't know how. It always gets up there." I’m glad he never asked why and that every time it was the same questions.

Gregory couldn’t understand.  I had to elaborate some more, every few hours. “The dog is dumb. He bites so we thought it would be funnier than getting bitten.” It was the biggest mistake I’ve made; it was without a doubt the funniest. I looked around the poorly lit cell wondering when our lawyer would show up. I was cold and seeing my friend like this, I thought he had completely lost his mind. Tolerating this place much longer was beyond me.

“Couldn’t we help him?” This was the question I hated most.

“We probably could have, if we had realized the fire extinguisher would kill him.” We honestly didn’t know. It was my idea though, I felt sorry that I had done this to him. "When the lawyer gets here don’t say a thing, I don't think you quite have a grasp on what’s happened yet." He nodded but I was sure that, before long, Greg would forget not only my instructions but where and who he was again.


BUZZ! The sound rang through my ears as our cell door unlocked, revealing our lawyer. He was already sweating, possibly because the media had named us; “The dog dining duo.”

“Was there something?” I asked the lawyer casually, as he took the seat offered by the prison guard. He flinched wondering why I seemed so nonchalant; I think he would have preferred me to start screaming at him to help us. He was older than me, mid-forties maybe with a briefcase in his hand. It was odd to see that he had purple hair but I liked that. I couldn’t quite make out his eyes as he was wearing glasses. "Well..."

“Uh…Just tell me what happened and why.” Now I was nearly in tears. I hadn't realised how much I'd loved that dog. Buster, I had named him with the help of my brother—I was never good with names.

“Well, we wanted to get the dog off the stove, and we thought that it would be funny. We didn’t think that his fur might catch on fire. Honestly there never was much there, now there’s none whatsoever.” I smiled remembering the dog as he had been. “Well we realized our mistake almost immediately and the dog quite clearly did. We tried to save him but honestly didn’t know that the fire extinguisher would kill him, he kept running around for a short time then he fell over. He was breathing heavily and not long after that he died.”

The lawyer stared at me with the sad look of defeat, already in his eyes. I could quite clearly pluck out only thought going through his head. Why me? Any lawyer would distress over taking this case, it wasn't likely to do their career any good. When he next spoke it was with a haste that betrayed his desperation. “Well, we could always try and claim that the fire extinguisher company is responsible. Tell me, did the fire extinguisher have a ‘must not be used on living things’ warning of any sort. I remember a case involving a woman who micro-waved her cat, that's not a good story either really, but it could help you.”

Not a chance, I thought. “You’d have to ask the police who have the fire extinguisher, probably in some evidence locker.” I was trying to help; I just wasn’t convinced that we had a shot. As I sat there I wondered what my parents and my siblings thought, they must be worried sick. Scratch that, I began to worry about Greg’s sister; she’d be worried sick by now. At least after we visited the vet we went with the police willingly, I was sure that our co-operation would account for something. There was a slight unnerving silence and I’m unashamed to admit I cried. I needed to get us out of this for Greg. "Have they done an autopsy?" My lawyer jumped, surprised at the sudden abuse of my vocal chords.

“They didn’t think it necessary to do an autopsy. Why?”

“The dog was rather old, so maybe the fire extinguisher didn’t kill it. They use extinguishers in movies on people, what if it isn’t so harmful? If the dog didn’t die from the burns or the extinguisher it could be considered natural causes.” I surprised myself in that but I was willing to try anything.

My lawyer almost laughed, I think I had just handed him a solid defence, that is, if either of us were right. ”Tell me, what education do you have? Are you a good citizen? I ask because any judge or jury might be more sympathetic if you are.” I liked my lawyer, from then on I knew we would be friends.

"Where am I?" That poor little phrase I'd become so accustomed to came back to us.

"My friend has lost his mind I'm afraid, he cannot at all recall the incident." I told the lawyer and finally the situation hit me. "A psychiatrist is meant to be coming around later to help him. He's been like that all morning, since we got locked in here. By the way, we haven't introduced ourselves. My name is Cade." Something passed over the other mans face, that look of defeat that I had seen earlier I suppose.

"Who am I though?"

"This is Gregory; he's going to be quite while we try to get him out of jail. Won't you?" Gregory had always agreed with me, though before I had assumed that it was because we had been good friends.

"Well my name's Tuoraf Drinelk and I think that this case may go splendidly, but only if your friend can recover his memory." That statement worried me, more so because he'd implied that Greg might not get his memory back but I couldn't help think of our freedom, as opposed to his memory in that situation.

"What happens if he doesn't get his memory back?"

Tuoraf, though not brilliant, displayed that he could do very well, under the right circumstances. Our semi-competent lawyer explained that if Gregory couldn't back my case up we would likely be better off to plead insanity. Gregory stood as the only witness, an adult slightly screw loose--it was all looking quite bad for us. Tuoraf became very professional from there though insisting we use his last name, Drinelk--out of his own personal preference--also then ensuring us that he would bring us some books or entertainment later and try to move the hearing ahead.

I don't, even now, know why but from then on Gregory remembered names, first it was only every new name, including his, but then remembered some others.

It was still another hour’s wait, before Gregory and I could be ‘evaluated.’ The psychiatrist introduced himself quickly, and politely. Trygor Blue. Equally quickly, I began to dislike him but I was sure that came with the profession. No matter what Gregory or I said Trygor's voice sounded hollow. I remained silent throughout most of the evaluation as we didn’t know if our plea was insanity. He was very helpful to Gregory though and procured some drugs to keep the most often baffled man calm, though there was nothing permanent he could do about Greg's memory.

Part Two: Court

“State your full name for the court,” the prosecution stated rather than asked.

“My name is Cade Tylis.” We had already pled guilty.

“Could you describe to the court the events that took place during the evening in question?”

Tuoraf had told me to stay calm and to speak clearly during the trial, I had grown to trust him. “Yes,” I said, leaning towards the microphone. “Three days ago at around four forty-five in the afternoon, Gregory and I had just arrived at my house.”

“Could you identify Gregory to the court?” I gestured towards Greg, who was carefully reading a piece of paper we had given him. The paper told him who and where he was along with some other things.

“Gregory and I were at my house because Greg was in the process of moving, I had invited him to stay at my place.”

“How do you know the other defendant?” The prosecution cut in sharply, unbalancing me slightly.

“Gregory and I met while I was working. He represented the company he was working for at the time. This was maybe nine or ten months ago. Gregory and I had just come inside to find the dog on the stove; he had done that once or twice before recently.”

“Please state the victim’s name,” Tuoraf had told me to be careful, as answering questions such as this could be self-incriminating, especially if quoted.

“My dog’s name is, was, Buster.”

“Buster, I remember him!” Greg shouted exhilarated. He stood up just as suddenly and a look of terror crossed his face. All eyes were on Gregory as he sat down again; weeping before the court.

Drinelk stood asking for an immediate recess, which the judge gave without hesitation. We came back later, with the re-assurance that Gregory was recovering his memory.

So I continued to reiterate the story. All of the questions were cruel in nature and I grew to thinking that jail would be far better than another minute at the front of that room. Eventually the torture ended, but now it was Greg’s turn. I must have held my breath desperately hoping he wouldn’t forget again; that he would be fine.

We spent three days of fear in court. Our families, friends and co-workers testified that we had no violent or psychotic tendencies while the vet argued that it was the grossest case of mistreatment she had witnessed.

“It was the biggest mistake I’ve made and it’s certainly had an impact on the way I’ll live my life.”

“Was there anything particularly that you enjoyed about the experience? I’m told that towards the end of the case you were even smiling.” This reporter was one of many whom I had told my story.

“It was an eye opener, how much Gregory’s sister cared for him, he was happy and his sister comforted him while he was still struggling with certain memories,” I smiled, remembering Greg’s face, wondering how he was. We were to serve 48 hours of community service, neither of us had complained. I couldn’t wait to get away from this interview; Gregory and I were going to meet Tuoraf for a beer.

“One final question Cade; Are you aware that the term ‘roasting the dog’ and ‘Dog Roasting’ have become everyday terms for making a mistake?”

“No, I wasn’t aware of that.” I left the room grinning. That was fitting; after all, it was a mistake…wasn’t it?