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Chinook |
| Written by Joseph Galea | |
| Sunday, 13 January 2008 | |
“Daddy, is he going to be all right?” cried Serena. There, laid out full length on a blanket lay Chinook, her 13 year old Siberian Husky. Each heavy breath he took seemed to drain some more of his life force from his once strong body. Only his intelligent brown eyes seemed alive, and they showed he knew his time to go was close. They had had him since he was a puppy, eight weeks old. He was already a member of the family for eight years when Serena was born. He had adopted the new baby from the day she came home from the hospital. He had patiently and gently submitted to all the indignities that dogs suffer at the hands of toddlers. There was something magical in the bond that existed between the old dog and the little girl. Now he was at the sunset of his life, she at the dawn of hers. “Daddy, he will be all right won’t he?” asked Serena again. “I don’t know dear,” replied daddy. “Chinook is a very old dog. He’s really much older than grandpa is in doggie years. It may be his time to go.” “But he cannot, I won’t let him,” cried the little girl, as she bent down and kissed Chinook’s snout. He managed a feeble wag of his full furry tail. “We’ll get another puppy,” consoled her father. “But I don’t want another puppy, I want Chinook,” and she ran off to her mother tears in her eyes. Joe felt at a loss. He found it difficult to handle his five-year-old’s first experience of mortality and death. He scratched Chinook behind his ear – he knew he liked that. The vet had told them that there was nothing they could do; that it would be a matter of a few days before the old dog closed his eyes for the last time. He had suggested euthanasia, but since he assured them that Chinook was not in any pain, they had decided against it. As he watched the dog’s laboured breathing, Joe knew he would not last longer than tomorrow. Considering the distress that Serena was suffering he wondered whether it would have been better to have taken the vet’s suggestion. He had already called several breeders to find a new puppy for Serena and found one that had a litter. As her mother tucked her in for the night, Serena said, “Mummy, we cannot let Chinook die. I’ll be so lonely without him.” Yvonne kissed her on the forehead, feeling the same pain as her daughter. She loved the old rascal as much as her daughter. She had forgotten what life was like without him around the house all day, and the routine he imposed on the household. “Darling, I know how you feel. But everybody grows old, and then God calls them to Him. They remain with us in our hearts. We will always remember Chinook, but he’s old now and it’s time for him to go. We will get another puppy, who you will love just as much as Chinook.” She kissed her again. “No I won’t,” whispered Serena as her mother left the room. “How’s she doing?” asked Joe, as his wife, Yvonne, came into the living room. “Much the same. She won’t accept that Chinook will be leaving us. Can’t say I blame her. It’s tough on me too.” She wiped a maverick tear from her cheek. They heard a noise from their daughter’s room and went to check. The door was ajar, they looked in and stopped. Serena was on her knees by the bed, her little chin resting on the bedcovers, hands clasped tight in prayer in front of her, eyes closed shut. They heard her pray: “Dear God, Mummy says that when someone grows old you call him to you. I know my Chinook is old, so please make him young again so he can stay with me. Amen.” They watched as she climbed back into bed. “I don’t want her here when Chinook passes away,” said Joe later, when they were in their bedroom. Tomorrow I’ll take you and Serena to your parents. I’ll come back and take Chinook to the vet. There’s no point in prolonging his misery. It’s unlikely he’ll last beyond tomorrow anyway. I’ll call the breeder I spoke to last week and see whether I can pick up the new pup. They should be ready to go now. That way we’ll save her the trauma of seeing Chinook die.” “See if you can get one with brown eyes, like Chinook, not the blue ones. It’ll remind us of him,” asked Yvonne. “That’s a tall order, but I’ll try,” promised Joe. The next morning Yvonne told Serena that they would be spending the day at grandma’s. “But what about Chinook?” immediately asked the girl. “Chinook will be O.K. He needs to rest,” lied her mother, hoping that her distress at knowing that it would be the last time she’d be seeing her old friend did not show in her voice. “I’ll be back soon. You rest, O.K? Don’t worry you are going to be all right,” whispered Serena in Chinook’s ear. Her mother rubbed his furry, pink belly, “Goodbye old friend, sleep well.” She turned away. She did not want her daughter see her cry. Joe dropped them off at his in-laws. “I’ll pick you up this afternoon, after work,” he said. “Don’t be late Daddy, Chinook will be waiting,” warned his daughter. When he returned for them that evening Joe seemed excited. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said to Serena, who had been waiting at the window for over an hour. He kissed his wife on the cheek and winked at her. Yvonne sensed something was up but said nothing because of Serena. They got home quickly. As soon as Joe opened the door, Serena ran in eagerly to see how Chinook was doing. Joe and Yvonne were still at the door when they heard their daughter’s excited shouts. “Mummy, Daddy come quick, Come see Chinook!” They hurried in. There in Serena’s arms was a Siberian Husky puppy wagging its tail and licking Serena’s beaming face. “Look Mummy, Chinook’s young again,” said the girl. Yvonne looked at the puppy. He had the same salt and pepper coat of the old dog, the same markings, and brown eyes that seemed to recognise her. “Go play with Chinook in the yard dear,” said her mother. As Serena ran out with the excited puppy chasing her, she turned to her husband. “Joe, that’s incredible. Where did you find that pup? He’s the spitting image of Chinook.” Joe looked at his wife, shrugged his shoulders, and said quietly, “You won’t believe it, but the point is, I didn’t. He was here when I came home.” Copyright 2008 Joseph Galea |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 30 January 2008 ) |
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