Cerby’s First Day

By Lisa Timpf

 “This is all I need,” Hades muttered.

He peeked around the kitchen doorframe at the knot of self-invited guests mingling in his living room. Athena told him that crowds could be expected when you got a new puppy, but this was just adding insult to injury. I never asked for this.

Hades squared his shoulders. Stay calm. Remember, he may be a “gift” from Zeus, but you still have an exit strategy. You just have to make it until Artemis arrives. Forcing a smile, Hades stepped into the room and approached his visitors.

“Cerberus nipped me!” Hermes held up his right hand, displaying a bleeding finger.

“He played tug-of-war with my robe!” Apollo protested. “Look! He ripped it!”

“Your fault for teasing him.” Aphrodite’s voice grew shrill. “Besides, that’s nothing—Cerberus peed on my sandal!”

“Was that before or after you called him ugly?” Athena smirked into her cocktail.

Aphrodite huffed and crossed her arms.

“That’s enough for now. Cerberus must be getting tired.” Hades put a hand under the pup’s chest and scooped him up—more out of a desire to get rid of his guests than to cuddle this—this—

“Aside from the scaly tail and the snake necklace, he’s kind of cute.” Athena cocked her head.

Hades studied the fuzzy new arrival. Cerberus wriggled and grinned. Athena was right. If Hades focused on the pup’s perky ears and oversized paws, his dog-like qualities stood out. Then again, there were three heads, square muzzled and already leaving trails of drool on Hades’s best robe.

Nobody’s perfect.

Cerberus gazed up, his eyes glowing like coals. The wide-eyed innocence and sense of trust in the pup’s gaze prompted an answering stir of emotion. Hades tried to push the feeling away, but with limited success.

Maybe I’ll keep him.

Hades shook his head. Impossible. You have an agreement. Don’t get attached.

After the final guest left, Hades kept watch. Still no sign of Artemis.

Well, she’d be along soon enough. Meanwhile, he’d best get Cerberus something to eat. The pup’s razor-sharp teeth had already scored his hand once, and he had no desire for a repeat performance.

While he watched Cerberus gulp down food from three bowls, Hades wondered what had delayed Artemis. She’d been the one who’d delivered advance warning about his pending “gift.” Hades appreciated that. He hated surprises.

“What do you need a dog for?” she’d asked. “Whereas I, for my hunting…”

“Then why don’t you ask them to give Cerberus to you?”

“You know how Zeus and Hera are.” Artemis dragged a toe in the dirt. “Once they make their minds up…”

Hades did, indeed, know. He shrugged. “I’m more of a cat person, really. So, if you want Cerberus—”

“I knew you’d understand!” Artemis smiled. “I’ll come by to get him after the excitement dies down.”

But the excitement had died down, and she still hadn’t shown.

All afternoon, Cerberus toddled along behind his new master. Once, when Hades stopped suddenly, the pup sat on the Underworld god’s foot, evoking a rare smile.

After supper, Hades threw a ball for the pup to chase, then watched as Cerberus gnawed on three deer antlers—one per head—that Athena had brought as gifts for the new arrival.

Hades hadn’t realized how lonely it was down here. But this afternoon with Cerberus had been almost… enjoyable. Maybe he didn’t want to give him up…

But what would I do with a dog?

Underworld denizens were always muttering about escape plans. Perhaps once Cerberus attained his adult size, he could be a deterrent. “Big paws,” Hermes had said earlier, nodding at the dog’s massive forefeet. “He’ll be a monster.”

As though guessing he was the subject of Hades’s thoughts, Cerberus turned all three heads toward his master. Six eyes glowed contentedly. Then, six eyelids drooped.

“You must be getting sleepy.” Hades picked up the pup, who in turn sagged like a warm sack of grain in his arms. “You can sleep in my bed, just for tonight.”

Just for tonight. Who was he kidding? Cerberus wasn’t going anywhere. Not if he could help it.

Artemis arrived just before midnight. “I’m here for the mutt.”

Hades was ready for her. “Have you thought this through?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What’s to think about?”

“Did you consider that his barking might scare the game?”

“No more so than any other dog.”

Hades grinned slyly. “When all three heads get going, there’s quite a noise. I had to use earplugs earlier today.”

“Hmm. But I’m sure he’d be a good tracker.”

“If all three heads are down at the same time, Cerberus loses his balance.” Hades had witnessed the phenomenon himself. “There’s also the gas.”

Artemis wrinkled her nose. “I was about to ask—what is that smell?”

“The product of the puppy’s digestive system.” The odor was, in fact, due to sulfurous compounds one of Hades’ minions had gathered from elsewhere in the Underworld, but he wasn’t about to share that information with Artemis. “I imagine it’ll only get worse as he gets older.”

Artemis sighed. “If… I don’t take him, what will you do with him?”

Hades shrugged and tried to look dismayed. “I’ll think of something.” Hiding a smile, he saw Artemis out, then hurried to his sleeping quarters to gaze at the snoozing puppy.

Athena had warned him what he was getting into. Owning a dog wasn’t all lotus flowers and ambrosia. He’d have to live through teething—and with three heads—plus there’d be the cost of ordering deer antlers and other goodies from the Amazons.

Still, there was no doubt that the Underworld could be depressing sometimes. Cerberus might be just what Hades needed.

“Welcome home, Cerby,” he whispered. He snuggled in beside the tired pup. Soon, they were both snoring.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Timpf is a retired HR and communications professional who lives in Simcoe, Ontario, Canada. Her speculative fiction has appeared in a variety of venues, including NewMyths, Third Flatiron, and Acceptance: Stories at the Centre of Us. Lisa’s speculative haibun collection, In Days to Come, is available from Hiraeth Publishing.

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