All she wanted was a dog. One of those small dogs you see ladies walk around with. A poodle. She talked about it ceaselessly, made posts about it on Snapchat, and even on her WhatsApp. So on her twenty-sixth birthday, I bought her one. Quite expensive for something that only barks and eats, but the woman I loved wanted it, so I got it for her.

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That dog became more important in her life than I ever was. She never posted me twice in a month, but that dog got featured everywhere every day. On her Instagram today, you’ll see “A Day in Geoffrey’s Life” on her timeline. Yeah, the dog was called Geoffrey.

When we had an argument about the dog, she asked me, “Are you insecure about a dog? A tiny dog like this is causing you insecurity?”

I was ashamed the way she said it, but I had a reason to be concerned. Things were not the same since that dog came around. She could tell me her dog wasn’t in a good mood, so I couldn’t visit. “Not in a good mood? How?” I asked. She told me, “He’s acting up and could attack you unprovoked.”

I sensed all was not well, but nothing in this world could prepare me for what I saw that day when the truth finally came out.

I edited a video of Geoffrey on my laptop and sent it to her. She said the video didn’t appear right on her phone and gave me her phone to check it out. She opened CapCut on her phone, and I started working on it. I decided to go into her photo gallery and compare the video I was working on to others, and the first thing I saw blew my mind.

She was sitting right in front of me, playing with the dog while I worked on her phone. And then she jolted suddenly, quickly got up, and snatched her phone from my hand. It was too late. I’d seen what she didn’t want me to see.

Just to spare your visual senses, I won’t go too deep into describing what I saw. You’re permitted to use your imagination to figure out the rest. She was lying on the carpet with her legs open. She had a scoop of some brownish thing that looked like chocolate ice cream on a wooden spoon. She smeared the brownish thing on her ‘shrine,’ and the dog immediately ran to lick it.

As I said, I won’t go deeper than that, so invite your imagination to the table. She would change positions, and the dog would still find the ‘shrine’ and lick deep and long. The video was recorded three hours prior to my visit.

I was visibly shaking. For several seconds, I couldn’t utter a word. She had run out of the room, thinking I was going to hit her. She was standing outside and talking to me through the window, “It’s not what you think. The dog doesn’t like to eat and gets sick, but I realized if I put the food on my skin, she runs for it. That’s why. Don’t think anything bad. I’m sorry.”

Skin?

So why the shrine of all places?

I coerced her to come inside so we could talk, but she didn’t come. When I stepped outside, she ran away. So I picked the dog up and left her place.

I went back to her place one afternoon unannounced, and she wasn’t there. I went there at night and at dawn consistently for a whole week; I didn’t see her. Meanwhile, she was texting me, sending me voice notes, and begging me not to tell anyone to destroy her image. “Even if you don’t want the relationship anymore, treat me like your sister and don’t destroy me.”

I saw her a month later. It was her friend who confided where she was to me, and I found her there. By then, the anger, the shock, and the disappointment were gone. I had left the relationship emotionally, but I was chasing her up and down just to collect my things I had in her room and also a spare phone I was keeping with her.

What happened to the dog?

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I sold it to a guy who was buying it for his girlfriend. I put it up for sale on Snap in the morning, and in the evening, the guy came with his girlfriend. The lady lifted the dog up, and the next thing the dog did was lick her cheek. She said, “Awww, sweet little thing.” I nodded while the happy guy counted GHC750 into my hand.

I paid more than that when I was buying it, but I was selling it as a secondhand dog, so the price had to come down. While they drove away, I stood there and watched their car until it disappeared from view. I said in my head, “It’s a dog. Please let it be a dog.”

—Joe

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