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Monday, June 14, 2010

Transported blog

This is what I do. I write. When I'm happy, sad, melancholy, whatever, I write. When I am in pain, I do not have any other recourse but to get it out of me through tapping my fingers on the keyboard. Writing has always been cathartic for me, for my soul. If it's out of me, it doesn't threaten to destroy me..

They had been searching for him for hours that clear night in December. It was so quiet out, she could hear her children at the back of the neighborhood calling for their lost friend, companion over the years-the one who anchored an entire family together. The one who was always in the kitchen ready to greet them when they would return home. The one who forgave without question when he wasn't able to go "bye bye" after the little yellow lab came along because it was too much work to take both dogs anywhere. The one who licked wounds, mended broken hearts, kept cold feet warm by laying on them, cheerleader, protector throughout their lives/

She whistled his whistle. She knew if he could hear it, he'd come bounding up any second now. She was already wondering how many signs she could make by morning, thinking of how big the reward should be. She worried about waking the neighbors, it was, after all, the middle of the night. After ten whistles, she knew it was too late. She saw the big truck pull back into the driveway. When the driver got out and sat on the ground and wept, she knew it was time to call the children home.He had taken his last ride in this big truck they bought especially for him because of all the room in the back.

They buried him under the hammock in the backyard. His backyard, but not really where he spent most of his time. He wasn't an outside dog. He was a part of this family. He slept in this home for almost ten years. He was treated like a friend, not an animal. He saw each of these children finish elementary school. Most years, he went each and every day to take them to and from school. He loved getting his kids. When Chloe came along, he stopped going for rides as often, but he didn't mind. He had another new best friend. His giant Lab heart could love so much, always ready for someone else to greet happily, merrily wagging this giant tail that could have been a weapon on any other animal.

The children came home, got in bed with their mama, while their friend was being laid in the ground with plenty of blankets to keep him comfortable in his final resting place. She let them cry-wail, really. Scream into pillows and fall asleep with tears running down their faces. Chloe wasn't really sure what was going on. She had always looked to that giant black dog for understanding. It seemed as if she was always asking him what she should do now, because she was so much younger than he, the wise old guy with the gray specking his beard.

She didn't really understand that night why her tears didn't come. She had picked that dog out especially from an entire litter. She had brought him home after years of waiting for him.Waiting lists for this lineage of dogs from a farm out in the country. Bred shorter in the front so they could get into boats faster while hunting ducks. He hated water. The only time he ever jumped in willingly was when she was already in the water and called to him twenty times before he trusted her enough and jumped in towards her.

They taught him everything. He knew hand signals and commands. He didn't stray from the yard. He went on trips and vacations and drive thrus at Wendy's. He had the best possible life a dog could ask for with this family. He shouldn't have died alone. He shouldn't have been out there in the first place. The only thing they could figure out was that he had wandered off because he smelled a female. She hadn't had him fixed because he was so majestic, so beautiful, she wanted puppies one day.

She cried soon enough. The next morning, while coming through the house as softly as she could so she wouldn't wake up those sleeping children who had fallen asleep to get away from their nightmare just hours ago, she waited for the sound of the giant tail hitting the refrigerator like it had done every day for almost a decade. She turned on the light, started her coffee and leaned against the counter. She looked at Chloe, who was waiting for the usual routine of eating before they went outside-if it was raining, she'd take the umbrella and walk with them so they wouldn't get soaked, and as the cruel and harsh reality smacked her in the face, she knelt down and fed the little yellow dog who had just lost her best friend, too, as they both wondered how life would ever be the same.

Night, Buddy. See you guys in the morning.

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