God Only Threw the Humans Out of Paradise [4a/4]
anonymous
March 16 2010, 03:23:20 UTC
“Soon or late, every dog's master's memory becomes a graveyard; peopled by wistful little furry ghosts that creep back unbidden, at times, to a semblance of their olden lives.” -Albert Payson Terhune
My human spends hours at a time sitting next to me on the hard wood of his drawing room floor. He brushes out my fur, and he pets me, and he changes the blankets when I make a mess. (I really don’t mean to make a mess. I don’t want to cause trouble for him, but I can’t...I can’t help it anymore.) It’s gotten harder and harder for me to walk.
Since I can’t even walk across the flat floor, let alone up the stairs, my human sleeps downstairs on the floor next to me instead. He doesn’t sleep well. Even though I can hardly see anything anymore, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. He lives on mugs of tea held in shaking hands. Even though I can only barely hear his voice anymore, I know that he’s always speaking with a lump in his throat. Special Friend Alfred doesn’t come around anymore. I know why.
It’s almost time to say goodbye. But Special Friend Alfred knows I’m not his dog.
Nonetheless, I know he’ll miss me too.
But it’s my human I’m worried about. He never leaves my side. I wish I could tell Special Friend Alfred to take care of him after I’m not here, to take my spot in his bed. I wish I could tell Al eleven, when my human brings him home, to take care of him in his moods, when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s so upset that he can’t even breathe. I wish I could tell my human how much I’ve loved him, after the twelve years we’ve been together.
I think he knows.
Today, it hurts more than usual. Today, it’s harder to see, it’s harder to hear, it’s harder to move and breathe. I shiver.
“Oh, Al.” My human is over me, and he’s crying. I whimper. “Al, please, I...” I look up at him. He goes quiet, and then closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “Today’s it then, is it?” he asks when he opens his eyes again. I don’t exactly answer. I don’t exactly have to. I close my eyes. I’m not letting go yet, but I’m just so tired.
My eyes snap open when suddenly my human starts lifting me into his arms.
“Ups-a-daisy,” he grunts, and holds me close when I whine. “There we are, Al. My poor, sweet boy. It’s a beautiful day today, I...” he pauses and chokes a sob that I can feel all the way in my chest. “Let’s go outside, ha?”
My human puts me down under the tree in the yard. Right at the foot of the old wicker bench, where we used to go out and he’d read to me, up until I couldn’t walk anymore. I want him to read to me again today, like he used to. I just lay there and fight to breathe. I’m not going anywhere until he lets me go.
My human lays down behind me and puts his arm over my chest. He pets my head and my face, in long strokes that pull my lax jowls back into a dry-lipped smile.
“What am I going to do without you?” he asks softly. I thump my tail against the ground. “God, I...this doesn’t get any easier. I’ve had dogs for almost a century and a half and it...it’ll never be any easier.” His voice cracks. I lift my head and try to turn to kiss his tears away, like I always used to do. But he just shushes me and pets my face until I lay my head back down.
“I don’t want you to suffer anymore, though, Al. I know it hurts, and I know you’re holding on just for me now, but I...please, Al, I just don’t want you to hurt anymore. It...it’s alright, whenever you want...to...”
I smack my lips and thump my tail. He strokes my ears. I start to drift. He draws a deep breath.
God Only Threw the Humans Out of Paradise [4b/4]
anonymous
March 16 2010, 03:24:48 UTC
“Just this side of heaven,” he murmurs, and his voice is getting further away. “Is a place called the Rainbow Bridge.” I can tell, somehow, that he’s smiling through his tears. It’s like the...like what Special Friend Alfred always called "pineapple showers". When it rains when it’s sunny. “When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.” He draws a deep breath again, and it’s shaky. He leans down, and I feel him kiss my ear, and his face is already wet. “There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. I linger.
“Al,” he says suddenly, and I hear him crystal clear even though it’s barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry...my dear, dear boy. Good boy,” he murmurs. “Will you...say hello to all of my other Als for me? When you get there?”
Their bodies may be buried in the ground, but their spirits will always be buried in our hearts. It's funny, how something that's not with us for very long at all can stay with us for the rest of our lives.
(As a 'non who's probably about to lose the dog who she grew up like sisters with, it hurts more to watch them suffer than it does to let them go.)
Re: God Only Threw the Humans Out of Paradise [4b/4]
anonymous
November 12 2010, 17:00:14 UTC
Oh, God. God, God, God. You made me cry and run and hug my puppy. Oh, God. I need to go and find my cat, too and make the both of them take a nap with me and hug them forever.
My human spends hours at a time sitting next to me on the hard wood of his drawing room floor. He brushes out my fur, and he pets me, and he changes the blankets when I make a mess. (I really don’t mean to make a mess. I don’t want to cause trouble for him, but I can’t...I can’t help it anymore.) It’s gotten harder and harder for me to walk.
Since I can’t even walk across the flat floor, let alone up the stairs, my human sleeps downstairs on the floor next to me instead. He doesn’t sleep well. Even though I can hardly see anything anymore, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. He lives on mugs of tea held in shaking hands. Even though I can only barely hear his voice anymore, I know that he’s always speaking with a lump in his throat. Special Friend Alfred doesn’t come around anymore. I know why.
It’s almost time to say goodbye. But Special Friend Alfred knows I’m not his dog.
Nonetheless, I know he’ll miss me too.
But it’s my human I’m worried about. He never leaves my side. I wish I could tell Special Friend Alfred to take care of him after I’m not here, to take my spot in his bed. I wish I could tell Al eleven, when my human brings him home, to take care of him in his moods, when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s so upset that he can’t even breathe. I wish I could tell my human how much I’ve loved him, after the twelve years we’ve been together.
I think he knows.
Today, it hurts more than usual. Today, it’s harder to see, it’s harder to hear, it’s harder to move and breathe. I shiver.
“Oh, Al.” My human is over me, and he’s crying. I whimper. “Al, please, I...” I look up at him. He goes quiet, and then closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “Today’s it then, is it?” he asks when he opens his eyes again. I don’t exactly answer. I don’t exactly have to. I close my eyes. I’m not letting go yet, but I’m just so tired.
My eyes snap open when suddenly my human starts lifting me into his arms.
“Ups-a-daisy,” he grunts, and holds me close when I whine. “There we are, Al. My poor, sweet boy. It’s a beautiful day today, I...” he pauses and chokes a sob that I can feel all the way in my chest. “Let’s go outside, ha?”
My human puts me down under the tree in the yard. Right at the foot of the old wicker bench, where we used to go out and he’d read to me, up until I couldn’t walk anymore. I want him to read to me again today, like he used to. I just lay there and fight to breathe. I’m not going anywhere until he lets me go.
My human lays down behind me and puts his arm over my chest. He pets my head and my face, in long strokes that pull my lax jowls back into a dry-lipped smile.
“What am I going to do without you?” he asks softly. I thump my tail against the ground. “God, I...this doesn’t get any easier. I’ve had dogs for almost a century and a half and it...it’ll never be any easier.” His voice cracks. I lift my head and try to turn to kiss his tears away, like I always used to do. But he just shushes me and pets my face until I lay my head back down.
“I don’t want you to suffer anymore, though, Al. I know it hurts, and I know you’re holding on just for me now, but I...please, Al, I just don’t want you to hurt anymore. It...it’s alright, whenever you want...to...”
I smack my lips and thump my tail. He strokes my ears. I start to drift. He draws a deep breath.
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He’s quiet for a long moment. I linger.
“Al,” he says suddenly, and I hear him crystal clear even though it’s barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry...my dear, dear boy. Good boy,” he murmurs. “Will you...say hello to all of my other Als for me? When you get there?”
With my last effort, I wag my tail.
Then, there’s only darkness.
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I'm sobbing like a baby, here.
This is just heartbreakingly beautiful. Oh England. Oh Al. I wanna give you hugs so much.
(fifteen years later, it still hurts.)
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(As a 'non who's probably about to lose the dog who she grew up like sisters with, it hurts more to watch them suffer than it does to let them go.)
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Great story.
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