The Old Dog Remembers(Elaine Faber) THE OLD DOG REMEMBERS

Sheba and the young dog stood by Master’s car as he unlocked the door. Sheba looked into Master’s eyes. Sheba knew those eyes. She had stared into those eyes for 15 years, always ready to accompany Master anywhere or sit and share a quiet moment. She had been the one to fetch his slippers, bring in the paper and chase the ball in the park. She had been the one who watched when Lady took the children and drove away and never came back. She had been the one to lay her head in Master’s lap, staring into his sad eyes when he sat, crying and drinking from a tall glass.

The young dog jumped into the car, pushing her away as she scrabbled to get a toehold into the back seat. Master put up his hand and said, “No, Sheba. You can’t come with us this time. Stay here.”

Sheba watched the car pull away from the curb. The young dog hung his head from the window, catching the air in his teeth as his hair blew back. Sheba lay down on the curb to wait until Master returned. The car turned the corner and the sound of a rattling muffler faded into the distance. Sheba stared at the road where Master’s car had disappeared with the young dog. The look in her face seemed to say, ”How did this happen? Why have I been replaced?”

The old dog closed her eyes and remembered the good times they had shared before the young dog came.

It had been a warm autumn day…. Master carried a long metal and wood object and they had tromped for miles, pushing through thick underbrush under the canopy of huge old trees, splashing across a shallow creek. On the other side, she shook herself, spraying water all over Master’s legs. He laughed and they rolled together on the ground until she was dry. Master opened his knapsack and shared his sandwich. Sheba listened to the sounds of the forest. The only sound was the whisper of leaves fluttering around them, as they drifted down into swirling piles at their feet. Master heard a sound and stood, pointed the metal object into the trees. There was an explosion and Master said, “Fetch, girl!”

Her legs barely touched the ground and her long gold hair blew in the breeze as she raced across the meadow, picked up the dead bird and brought it back to Master. She wiggled in delight at his words of praise, “Good dog, good girl. It’s a fine pheasant, isn’t it?”

It seemed as though life couldn’t get better but she was wrong. That night Master and his lady shouted and slammed doors. The frightened dog sneaked up the stairs where the children sat in their rooms, crying and holding their hands over their ears to shut out the sounds of arguing. She put her head in the little girl’s lap. Her eyes seemed to say, “Everything’s going to be alright,” though she wasn’t sure it was really true.

The lady and the children left the next day. When they were gone, Master cried and drank from the bottle. Sheba did her best to comfort him, lying quietly by the bed. Master forgot to feed her for several days and she had to chew a hole in the dog food bag and drink from the toilet. Master sold the house and they moved into an apartment. Master let his hair grow long and grew a beard. Some days he didn’t shower and smelled bad, but Sheba didn’t care. She loved him, no matter how he smelled.

In time, better days returned and Master laughed at Sheba’s efforts to cheer him. Occasionally the children visited and filled the house with laughter. And when they left, Master would be sad and cry and drink from the bottle again.

So that’s how it was for a number of years. Things were never the same. They never went hunting again.

Sheba couldn’t remember when her legs started aching or when the world became blurry. It grew harder to hear when Master called. Master frowned when she couldn’t hear him and seemed angry when she couldn’t chase the ball at the park. Sheba grew accustomed to a quiet, blurry world and constant pain.

Everything changed again when the young dog came to live with them several months ago.

Master brought the young dog home in a crate and said, “This is Barney. He’s going to live with us.” Sheba wondered, “Why does he need another dog? He has me.”

Barney ate from her bowl, lay on her bed, and chewed up her favorite toys. He took her place by Master’s side and slept at Master’s feet. She saw Master look at him with that special look she knew so well. The old dog tried to reclaim her rightful place, but the energetic young dog bit her ears until, seeking peace, she would relinquish her spot and lie down by the fireplace. She couldn’t understand why things were different now that Barney had come to live with them.

There came a day she could no longer run when they went to the park. She could only watch Master throw the ball and Barney would race across the field and bring it back. Master would say, “Good boy. Good dog!” and Sheba would feel the pain and remember how he used to look at her and say, “Good girl. Good dog.” Master never said those words again.

One day, Master took Barney to the park and left her home. And so it had been, each time they went to the park, Barney went in the car with Master and she was left to wait by the curb.

Sheba heard a car that sounded like Master’s car. She stumbled to her feet, stared down the road and whined in anticipation. A sharp pain coursed through her hips and spread into her chest. The car came closer and stopped across the street. A man got out and through blurry eyes, she could see it wasn’t Master.

She walked slowly up the driveway and through the doggy door, panting and gasping for air. Her legs weren’t working right. She stumbled across the living room and laid her head in Master’s chair. His scent comforted her, but the pain in her chest continued and it was difficult to breathe.

Her head slipped from the chair onto the floor. Each breath became an effort. She lay still and listened for Master’s car. Her ears perked when she heard a car horn and children shouting, playing in the street, and a train whistled in the distance. Listening to the familiar sounds of her neighborhood was comforting. The traffic and neighborhood noises faded and the light in the room grew dim. A tapping sound thudded in her head. Each beat seemed to tap like a child’s drum and she realized it was the sound of her own heartbeat. Soon, the tapping sound slowed as though the parade was passing down the street. The tapping grew softer until it stopped, and silence, black and comforting, wrapped around her and her pain melted away. She lay on the floor and welcomed the darkness ……until…. Wait!

She heard a familiar sound. She struggled to stand. It must be Master’s car in the driveway! She heard Master coming through the door with the children and his lady. Strangely, the children were as little as they had been many years ago. As though through a mist, Sheba saw herself rise effortlessly from the floor, race across the room, jumping and dancing around Master’s feet. The children laughed. Master stroked her head and rubbed her ears the way he used to do. He looked deep into her eyes and said, “Good dog, good girl.”

Her lady opened the back door and threw Sheba’s ball across the lawn. It bounced only once and Sheba leaped and caught it in midair before it hit the ground, and there was no pain in her legs. She felt the warmth of the sun on her head. The world, no longer blurry, was filled with vibrant reds, brilliant yellows, bright blues and greens. Overhead, green trees reached their boughs into a blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. She turned her head in surprise when sounds she had not heard for many months caught her attention. Birds hopped from branch to branch in the trees above and she clearly heard them singing. Her body wiggled and she wagged her tail in delight, and in her heart she knew that in this place, she would always be beautiful, strong and healthy, that Master would always love only her, and everything was as it should be. Barney was nowhere in sight.

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