“Come on, buddy. You can do this. You’ve just got to do what the doc says. Maybe lay off the hotdogs, pal. I know that sucks, but I’ll make it up to you, right?”
Stan’s tail wagged once then fell limply to the table.
I don’t know, boss. I ain’t doing so good.
I tried again.
“Just think of all the cool stuff we’re going to do for the rest of the year. And I’ll roast you a turkey for Thanksgiving, and . . . and we could go on a road trip in the Spring—somewhere warm. I don’t want to do that without you. Come on, Stan, you’ve got to try.”
Dawn reentered the room and laid her hand on my shoulder.
“Okay, I have his meds, Alex.”
“What are you giving him—it’s going to work, isn’t it?”
She only answered the first part of my question.
“I’m giving him a combination of Digoxin to help his heart; there’s also a diuretic, Furosemide, that will help clear the fluid in his lungs. If we can do that, it’ll make it easier for him to breathe. Because Stan’s heart isn’t working properly, the flow of blood is sluggish.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice gravelly.
“This won’t hurt, Stan,” she said as she grabbed the scruff of his neck and carefully inserted the needle.
Then she rubbed the site of the injection and stroked his head.
“We’ll put him in an oxygenated cage now,” Dawn said. “Bring him through here.”
I picked him up carefully and carried him into the area that the public didn’t usually get to see, although I’d been there twice before.
There was a row of cages in varying sizes. Stan’s cage was one of the largest. But instead of a normal cage with thin bars, this one was a clear plastic box, with tubes pumping pure oxygen into it.
There was already a blanket in the bottom, but I thought Stan would prefer one from home. Dawn agreed and sent Katie to get it from my truck.
“How’s that for you, buddy? Smells like home, right? At least it doesn’t smell of disinfectant. You’ll come home smelling clean, but don’t worry, it won’t last.”
Stan raised his head and let me pillow the blanket around him. Then he licked my hand.
Thanks, boss.
“Love you too, buddy.”
Dawn laid a gentle hand on my shoulder as I knelt down next to Stan.
“Alex, come and wait outside now.”
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving him.”
“It’s really for the best. Stan needs to rest and right now he’s feeding off your anxiety. Just come out to the waiting room. I’ll make us both a coffee.”
I didn’t want to go, but if it was best for Stan . . .
I stroked his head again.
“Gotta go for a bit now, but I’ll be right outside. You just take your time, get some rest. Okay? Okay, Stan? I’ll be right outside, I promise.” I turned around to look at him once more. “You can’t leave me, buddy. You hear me. You’ve got to fight this—you can’t leave me.”
As I walked out of the room, Stan lifted his head, his chocolate eyes fixed on me as if he was giving me a message. I’m awful tired, boss.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said, my voice cracking.
Entering the waiting room I forced myself to get it together. Katie’s eyes were wet, and she kept sniffing. Her usual rapid fire chatter had ceased and she sat in silence, looking very young and very scared.
Dawn passed me a chipped mug steaming with hot coffee.
“I’ve called my neighbor and she’s going to come and take Katie home,” she said quietly.
“I was surprised to see her. Nice surprise,” I said weakly, ruffling Katie’s hair.
“Her fa—sitter let us down at the last moment, so . . .”
“I want to stay with Stan,” Katie whispered, her bottom lip trembling.
“You need to go home and get ready for school, Katie-kay.”
“Mommy, Stan wants me to stay with him.”
Her lip wobbled and tears sparkled in her eyes. I could see Dawn softening.
“Okay, but you have to go put some clothes on, and when you’ve had breakfast, Mrs. Lendl will bring you back here if you want to. Alright?”
Katie looked mutinous.
“I’m serious, Katie. I need to focus on Stan right now.”
“But I’ll be good, I promise, Mommy.”
Her voice was so small.
“I know, honey. You can come back as soon as you’ve eaten something.”
Katie sighed, looking down, defeated.
I felt the same.
I hated sitting in the waiting room knowing that Stan was just next door, hovering on the edge of this world. I couldn’t let him go. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I never would be. Come on, Stan, I said to myself. Don’t leave me like this, buddy.
And for the first time in a long time, I prayed.
Dear God, if you’re really there, if you’re really listening to me, please don’t take Stan. He’s one of the good guys. He never willingly harmed anyone in his whole life, and he saved mine over and over again. It’s not fair that this is happening to him. Please, please let him get better. I know I don’t have any credit with you, and I’m not asking for myself, or maybe I am, but I’m asking for Stan. Please. Amen.
I didn’t know if would make a difference, but at least I’d tried.
Twenty minutes later, Dawn’s neighbor collected Katie. She didn’t want to go.
Dawn went to check on Stan, but when she came out, her face told me everything.
“I’m so sorry, Alex,” she said. “Stan’s not doing very well . . .”
“W-what . . . what does that mean?”
“It’s time.” Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “He’s dying, Alex.”
“No!”
I didn’t want to believe her. I couldn’t. I shook my head.
“You should say goodbye.”
I pushed past her and squatted down next to Stan. His chest was heaving, his breath coming in short pants, and his eyes were closed.
When I stroked his head, his eyes flickered open but then closed again.
I stroked him and held him and buried my face in his warm fur, but I knew Dawn was right. He wasn’t coming back from this and it was time to say goodbye.
“It’s okay, Stan. I’m here. I’m here.”
Stan
I hurt so bad. Every breath was painful like a clamp across my chest. But the worst was seeing the pain in the boss’s eyes.
He squatted down next to my cage and ran his fingers through my fur, talking softly, his voice scratched and broken.
I licked his hand and tried to wag my tail, but I was tired. So tired. All I could manage was a limp thump of my tail against the floor.
My last job on earth was to let the boss know that he was loved, and I was leaving him in good hands. My job was done.
I hoped he knew that he’d never let me down, that he was a good boss, a kind and careful owner, a true friend.
I hoped he knew, but it was getting darker and the light was fading from my eyes.
I sensed Carl waiting for me, not far now, just across the river and over the great divide.
No more swollen joints or blurred vision. No more shortness of breath. No more pain. I was going home.
The rest is silence . . .
Alex
Dawn touched my arm gently.
“I’m sorry, Alex. He’s gone.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Alex . . .”
“He wouldn’t leave me,” I said, incredulous. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“It was his time.”
“No, it wasn’t his fucking time! He’s not supposed to leave me!” I shouted.
I wanted her to yell back at me, to be angry, but she wouldn’t. Instead she held my hand, her warm fingers curling around mine.
I couldn’t look at her, so I turned my head to stare at Stan.
He was lying with his eyes open and his tongue l
olling from his mouth. The life force, his spirit, the easy friendship he brought to every place he went was absent. His chocolate eyes were fixed and glassy, the light gone forever.
His spirit had already left his battered old body. My friend was gone.
I fell to my knees on the concrete floor.
“I should have been with him!” I cried. “I wanted to stay the whole time but you made me wait outside. Stan was dying and it’s your fault. I will never, ever forgive you for that. I should have been here for every second, for every breath!”
Part of me knew my words were cruel and unjust, but I couldn’t bear the pain of knowing my best friend was dead.
I pushed my fingers into Stan’s fur. He was still warm. It was wrong. Just wrong.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, buddy. You were the best dog ever. You were my friend. My only friend. You saved me when no one else could and I’ll always be grateful for that. I am going to miss your stinky ass so much. So much.”
I reached into the cage and closed his eyes, but there was nothing I could do about his lolling tongue, and that just didn’t seem right. With shaking hands and clouded vision, I wrapped Stan’s body in his blanket and lifted him out of the cage, ignoring the words of comfort that streamed from Dawn’s mouth.
As I headed out of the office, I nearly barged into Ashley who was coming in ready to start her day.
She jumped when she saw me and her mouth fell open. If she spoke, I didn’t hear her.
I laid Stan onto my truck’s passenger seat.
“I’m taking you home now, buddy. I’m taking you home.”
Dawn tried to touch my arm, but I shook her off. I wanted to rage at her, blame her for everything. At that moment, I hated her . . . for losing those precious seconds, because she couldn’t save him.
I started the truck and drove back to the cabin, although I knew it wouldn’t feel like a home without Stan in it.
I didn’t know what to do when I parked in my driveway. I should bury him, I knew that, but the thought of putting him in the soil, of laying heavy rocks over the top of his grave, it was more than my breaking heart could bear.
But I would do it. My final act of friendship to the creature who’d come to mean more to me than just about anyone in the whole damn world.
I gripped the spade, shoveling dirt until sweat bloomed under my arms and dripped into my eyes, already gritty from lack of sleep.
I dug the hole deep, really deep, making sure that no one would disturb his eternal peace. Then I loosened the blanket around his body and carefully unbuckled his collar. It didn’t seem right for him to wear it now he was free.
And then I heard a car crunching up the gravel driveway. I knew without looking that it would be Dawn.
Brushing my filthy hands on my jeans, I walked around to the front of the house.
She was just getting out of her car when she saw me, and she hesitated. I frowned, then realized belatedly that Katie was with her.
She walked up to me and spoke quietly, staring at somewhere just below my chin.
“Alex, I . . . I didn’t want you to have to do this alone. So, please . . . and for Katie. She needs this. She needs to say goodbye.”
And I didn’t say it aloud, but I understood, because I needed it, too.
“I know you’re mad at me. We’ve had our . . . differences, but Katie wants to have a funeral service for Stan. I know you don’t believe . . . well, I’m not sure what you believe, but . . . Alex, it would really help her.”
“It’s fine.”
She swallowed and ran her tongue over dry lips.
“This is the first time she’s been faced with the death of someone she loves and . . .”
“I said it’s fine.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate . . . and, um, she wants to have a plaque made, for Stan.”
“A plaque?”
“She loved him, too.”
Katie was crying quietly as she climbed out of the car, tears streaking her face. She wiped her sleeve across her nose and mouth, then stumbled toward me and threw her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly.
“It’s not fair,” she cried. “I don’t want Stan to be dead.”
I didn’t have the words. I just didn’t. So I hugged her fiercely, wishing I could protect her from all the bad things that happen in the world. But no one can do that. Not even God, apparently.
Dawn joined us, running a finger under her eyes to wipe away tears, and I wrapped my arms around her, too. Because I needed it, because she wanted it, because it felt like we were a family, just for a little while.
“I’ve brought Stan some biscuits,” Katie sniffed, staring up at me with her puffy eyes.
I glanced at Dawn, confused.
“She’s been studying Greek mythology at school,” said Dawn quietly. “You know the one about Charon?”
Then I understood: a biscuit to pay the ferryman. Stan would like that.
“Thank you, Katie-kay,” I said, kissing the top of her head.
We buried Stan under his favorite tree, the copper beech. I stroked his fur for the final time and wrapped the blanket around him once more. His body was cooler now, and that hurt so badly.
I laid him to rest and said my final farewell.
“Goodbye, buddy. I love you, man. You’re my friend and I am so mad at you for dying. I hope Heaven has bacon sandwiches and hotdogs, because I know you loved them even if they weren’t good for you. Bye, Stan. Thanks for always being there.”
Katie was sobbing the whole time, but when her turn came, she whispered something to Stan, then carefully laid three large dog biscuits on top of the blanket.
And then I filled in the hole, feeling tears on my face as the dirt fell on my best friend.
When I was finished, Katie placed a cardboard plaque with her large, childish handwriting on top of the mound, and she cried, telling Stan it would be replaced by a real one soon.
Stan, 10 years old. Our friend.
I gave Katie a quick hug and promised to see her soon.
I didn’t keep my promise.
Alex
AFTER THEY LEFT, I paced the house restlessly.
It was too quiet, and the silence became unbearable. In every room Stan’s ghostly presence hovered, just out of sight. His blanket on the sofa, his bed in my room, his food in the kitchen, his bowls outside on the deck. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel his soft breath on my hand.
Katie had wanted to stay, but she was tired and upset, and I agreed with Dawn when she said they should go home.
But now I was alone, my rage grew with every angry step.
Hadn’t the world taken enough from me? My mother, my father, my brother, my wife, my life, nearly my sanity, and now even my dog. When was the universe going to stop shitting on me?
I wanted to go to Cleveland and spill some blood, but more than that, I wanted a drink.
Alcohol was always there, always willing to spend an hour or four listening to you bare your soul.
I wrestled with the want, the need, for nearly an hour, and then I broke. Just one drink before I went to Cleveland. Just one.
Scooping up Stan’s collar, I shoved it in my pocket before striding to my truck. Not giving myself time to think anymore, I accelerated out of my driveway with a spurt of gravel as the tires skittered across the loose surface, and the trees were just a blur of color in the side mirrors.
I swerved onto the highway, ignoring the angry honking of cars, then sped down the road.
I needed to be numb. I needed the feelings to just fucking stop. But I’d settle for taking the edge off.
Just one drink.
As soon as I hit town, I headed for the first bar I could find and dumped the truck on the street in front of it.
It was late afternoon, so it wasn’t empty but it wasn’t packed either. A few old guys were propping up the bar with slow-eyed familiarity, as if they’d been collecting dust there forever.
I ignored their open curiosity, sl
apped down five dollars and asked for a shot of Jim Beam.
I hesitated, thinking of all the reasons why this was a bad idea, trying to remember why I’d stopped drinking nearly a year ago. But the truth was Stan. Stan had stopped me the last time, Stan had saved me. And now Stan was gone.
I tossed the drink down my throat, my eyes watering at the fucking fantastic burn.
“Another?” asked the bartender.
Just one more.
I answered his question by placing another five-dollar bill on my empty glass and sliding it over to him.
He filled the glass again and leaned on the bar top, watching me as I tipped the whiskey into my mouth.
The double shot on an empty stomach after nearly a whole year of sobriety hit me hard. And I fucking loved it. I forgot about Cleveland, forgot about my plans, forgot about the promises I’d made myself. I was going to drink until I couldn’t feel anything—maybe never again. That was the new plan.
“B-bottle,” I stuttered, pulling a fifty out of my wallet.
The bartender raised his eyebrows.
“You driving?”
I hesitated: I had things to do, places to be, souls to save. But the whiskey called to me, making promises that everything would be better with just one more drink . . .
I shook my head and tossed the bartender my car keys. I’d never been the kind of a dumb asshole to drink and drive—every other kind of asshole, hell yeah.
The bartender gave me a searching look, but didn’t argue. Wise move.
I took the bottle from the bar, weaving my way over to a dark corner where I could drink in peace.
As I opened the bottle, the rich malt aroma hit me between the eyes. I licked my lips, almost salivating at the thought of the next pleasurable bite that was just seconds away. My hand shook as I poured the dark amber liquid into the glass, and I sloshed some onto the table.
I had no one. Nobody who’d care, nobody who’d miss me. Well, maybe Charlotte would miss me—she needed a damn good architect to save the business. I laughed at the irony.
The burn of shot number three hit the back of my throat, making me cough slightly, followed by the sweetness of corn and the scent of oak barrels. I wiped my eyes again and took another shot. And another, and another, until I lost count. Drinking until the feelings would be distant and bearable.