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Ben
A few years ago, when I was about 11 or 12, our dog died. I watched it happen. It was quite traumatic for me, as you can imagine; a boy entering into the new millennium with his one true friend, a miniature sheltie named Chelsey, who suddenly has half of his duo taken from him by the fact that dogs are seven times as mortal as humans.
I remember the day it happened. I was sitting in the very spot I’m in now as I write this. We all knew the dog was in poor health, but we just kept on living merrily without the fact at the forefront of our minds that this day was inevitable. I even remember how, in her waning months, I would take the care to pick out the disgusting little clumps of dead hair and crust to which I can only imagine those who are in line for the elevator up to doggie Heaven are entitled.
As I sat in this room, Mom called for me. I ran into her bedroom to find Chelsey on the floor, convulsing like I had never seen before. Not many preteens are privy to the uncontrollable shaking of a canine seizure so early in their lives, I suppose. After writhing on the floor for a minute or so, she calmed down. And, in a last gasp of life, Chelsey moved her little peg legs because she thought she was running. Then, complete still.
You know how when you get on in age, what you did during the first fifteen or so years in your life become a giant blur and you can’t really put your finger on exact happenings of the distant past? Well, and this sticks out in my mind as clear as day, for some reason I remember the exact dialogue between me and my mother:
“Is it over?”
“I think so.”
Then, we cried. Mother because she had witnessed – and had her son witness – a depressing doggie death. Me because I knew nothing would ever come along as great as that dog.
Boy, was I wrong.
A short time later, we came driving home with a new golden retriever. I knew this one could never fill his predecessor’s paw socks, but the family was lonesome with no trouble making varmint around Peterson Manor. Again, was I ever wrong. Ben is, without a doubt, the sweetest and most loyal animal with which we may share our world.
As I sit here in this same room where I heard my mom’s call so many years ago, Ben lies at my feet. I know he may not be here forever, but I should enjoy what time I have with him and move on to the great things life has to offer me after his departure.
I realize that this entry is seemingly not in keeping with my overtly optimistic posting style, but the entire point is one of hope and goodness: While you may be disappointed and sure that the world will never be as good tomorrow as it is today, you are very likely wrong. Life has a funny way of working itself out.
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9 to 5 by Dolly Parton
I swear I am this close to freaking crying…that was awesome but sad all at once…
ps…wings when I get back? oh and i believe someone owes me a meal or for certain services rendered at a certain party
optimistic posting style? more or less. that was a really sweet post though, Ben is a great dog
Bravo =)