The second Sunday in July began like any
other; mom looked on the floor in the spare room to see if I had an accident,
as we walked to the door. Blondie and I made our rounds inspecting the
neighborhood. Lola, Lucky and Robert Redford stayed close to the house waiting
to be fed. Blondie and I would be back before the third bowl hit the floor.
Some time later, we were sniffing
around up the hill, when we heard mom scream and yell. Before we could get home
she came flying, I mean going fast for her down the hill hollering, “Ayuda me!”
My ears went back, it scared me. I jumped at her leg as she hurried back to our
house. What was happening; I wanted to know. The door slammed in my face, when
I tried to walk in with her. What’s wrong
with her?
“Kirt,Kirt!,” mom cried, then we ran to the patio outside the bedroom windows. I couldn't hear dad. His scent
changed, we knew he was in trouble. Lucky and Red hid in the bushes nearby with wide eyes peering out. Blondie, Lola and I went into guard mode.
A man in a uniform stayed in his
car in front of the house. We bounced and barked surrounding the car. “No,” mom
commanded in a tone that set us back on our tails. “Hurry, hurry!” she repeated
to the man over and over again. Soon other people arrived. Lola and the puppies
barked, defending the door. Lucky’s hackles were up like the little boy was
seriously defending his home. Lola barked, but I could tell she wasn't too sure
about what she was doing. Mom told us, “NO,” before and that was good enough
for me and Blondie; we know the woman. What was wrong with dad? His scent lacked
vital force.
Mom yelled in Spanish and in
English at people in uniforms. We stood ready to protect, but when mom started
crying we didn’t know which way to go. We wanted to get in the house to comfort
her. Mom and dad’s friends, the dog lover ladies, Alma and Adri arrived. Mom
screamed and cried while telling them that the uniformed people wouldn’t help
dad.
People from the neighborhood filled
the yard and began coming into the house. Blondie, Lucky and I streaked in with
some. A uniformed man waived us away from the bedroom with dad, mom, friends
and uniformed people. Blondie and I know death when we smell it. Lucky ran
outside to hide under the car. The only other death he ever smelled was his
sister a couple of weeks ago.
It can’t be dad; he’s the greatest
dad in the world. His scent was flat. Mom sobbed, wailing so hard I waited for
her to howl, so I could howl with her. The uniforms retreated to the porch for
a smoke. Blondie tiptoed into the bedroom, where dad sat slumped over in his
wheelchair, ash grey. I stood there looking up at him, when my turn came. No
more scratches behind the ears from those hands. No more sweet words from his
lips. My tail dropped to the lowest, since the day I was dumped here. I touched my nose to his leg to fill it with
his scent one last time.
Farewell, friend to all, father of
the furry kidz and all round great guy,
Clure “Kirt” Carr, July 14, 2013
RIP
We love you,
Chi-Ping, Blondie, Smoki, Lucky,
Robert Redford, Lola
And “Mom”
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