THE PAST IS ALWAYS A CLOSING DOOR
My back went untended for many years until Don brought me to his veterinarian. Don said it hurt him just to watch me run—that each step I took sounded like the immensity of time itself grinding my very bones to dust.
The vet laughed at that and then looked into my eyes. I held his gaze, and for a moment we regarded each other. His eyes were gentle, soothed by the many small lives he held in his hands over the years. All those lives, past and present, clung to him in a faint scent any dog could recognize. He was a Biped who cared for the small, the frail, and all the needful creatures.
His hands traveled along my spine with a purpose that felt almost like veneration. When they reached the place where Doug and I were fused, his touch paused. He spoke to Don of an old injury, one that had settled into my bones and would not leave easily.
With careful strength, he placed his hands firmly around me and twisted.
I let loose a sharp yelp. In a moment, the tightness loosened and the pain retreated just enough to let me breathe again. Doug was afraid, and he retreated deeper into my bones.
The vet offered me a treat, and I searched his palm for another, drawn not only by hunger, but by the quiet strength and kindness in him. He laughed a low, warm laugh and obliged me with a second treat...
We returned to that wonderful vet over the course of months, slowly trying to coax the silent remains of Doug from my back. I felt my strength returning, and little by little, I began to remember what it was to stand on my own without fear or pain.
My long-dead mother's voice rose within me, "I am proud of you, Zinnia my angel. At last you are loved. At last you are free. Zinnia my love, anything is possible for you now."
MEETING THE STAIRWAY
The morning after the party, Joan came for me.
She cooed to me in soft, gentle tones from outside my crate. When I wouldn't meet her, she got some BBQ chicken and tried to lure me out.
I sunk my head into the crumpled blanket at the back of the crate, trying to ward off her saccharine sweet morning kindness. Why couldn't she leave me alone? Couldn't she see that a sharp, throbbing pain in my back was firmly in control of my entire world? I would gladly forgo a thousand treats and meals if only I could dissolve into my blanket and escape this Sky Prison for only an hour.
Rising steadily above the pain in my back was a red-hot sickness blossoming in my mind.
Would I ever be safe? If I came out of this crate, would Doug hurt me again?
I ignored Joan's songs and treats for as long as she could bear. She reached in and grabbed me by my limp back legs–much like our first meeting in the truck. I squealed and twisted in horrific pain trying to get away, but this was The Sky Prison. There was no escape.
The pain became too much, and I thankfully became numb. My peripheral world melted into a soothing, comforting black...
When I came to, I was being held against Joan's huge teats. She perhaps thought my injuries were mental, and all I needed was some maternal love. She swayed me in her arms like a baby Biped and hummed sweet lullabies from the deepest parts of her bosom. The rhythm of her breathing and the stolidness of her frame steadied me somewhat.
We descended The Living Stairway with me in her arms. The wood beneath us murmured, crackled, and whispered, speaking in an ancient language. Its many voices making themselves understandable to me for the very first time.
They told me I was not like the others.
They told me no dog's torment could ever be greater than The Great Black Dog intended.
They whispered and creaked to me that my mother was right.
"Endure," they groaned...
Endure.
ANOTHER GREAT DOG
On the first warm, sunny day of spring, we three got in the truck. We were excited to be leaving The Sky Prison. Even the silent beast within Doug seemed agreeable. He chatted carelessly away with Joan in the front seat.
When the truck stopped, Joan put on my cute leash and we got out. Doug grabbed his 12-pack and a cooler. Joan toted a basket, some blankets, and a huge umbrella. Doug strode confidently ahead of us as if he was flushing out demons and danger. He slowed a little as we trod over burning hot asphalt. Then he slowed again whilst marching over the exhausting burning hot sand dunes, where every step seemed to take twice the energy of a step on the asphalt.
Just when I thought I was going to die, I poked my head over the last sand dune, and there it was... The Ocean.
It was like nothing I had ever seen. It was beautiful. I could not help but wonder whether The Ocean was alive. It was certainly infinite. It stretched before me as a loud, rhythmic, beast. I felt its constant breath, and when I squarely faced it, cool air blew deep into my ears.
I had no doubts whether The Ocean was one of The Great Dogs. It held birds motionless in the air. It crashed against the beach with authority. Unclothed, defenseless Bipeds cast themselves in it to pray to it.
I felt a strong urge to swim out to The Great Ocean Dog and announce myself. Yet I did not want to seem ungrateful or blasphemous on our first meeting. I knew nothing of this Great Dog. Perhaps The Ocean Dog and The Black Dog were jealous enemies.
It was always better to show respect than to wake a vindictive foe with profane actions. The Great Black Dog had already pardoned me twice. Would he be angry that I gazed upon The Great Ocean Dog with kindness and wonder?
Doug led us as far away from The Ocean Dog and the other Bipeds as he could. He camped on the edge of the beach grass. Once Doug and Joan dropped their things, they got almost completely naked. In the sunshine, their pale skin made them appear weak and frail. Like worms dug up in a graveyard. Especially Doug, whose entire body was doughy except for his head and forearms, which had the color of supple leather.
I thought they were going to make the strange noises I heard coming from their bedroom some nights, but Doug drove the big umbrella sturdily into the dry sand. Joan tied my leash around the umbrella and they began unloading the cooler and basket.
I smelled it then. First as a faint vapor, then as a memory. I stuck my nose in the air. I could not put my paw on it, but it was definitely there. Was this a game The Ocean Dog played? I filed that vaporous scent away for exploration later. I stayed on the blanket in the shade taking everything in, and hoping for the smallest of snacks from the cooler.
Once settled, Joan took my leash in hand. We walked towards The Great Ocean Dog. Doug stayed at the umbrella to guard our things and drink beer. As Joan and I got closer, the waves got bigger. They sounded louder and more threatening. A wave crashed so hard it sent giant, cold raindrops all over me and the sand. It rushed towards me in a great froth and foam before dying at my toes and retreating back to the ocean.
Was The Ocean Dog warning me? I whined and pulled on the leash to go back to the umbrella. Joan looked down on me and said, "You're a frickin' LAB, Zinny! You're supposed to LIKE water!"
Then she did something completely unexpected; she let go of my leash, turned her back on me and walked into the water chaos. I watched her walk away. She said not one word to me, and did not look back.
A FLEETING ABSURDITY
I knew this was not freedom, and clearly not love. I had no intention of running up to the umbrella and being alone with Doug. I did the only thing I could do. I sat down on the damp sand and watched Joan prostrate herself to The Great Ocean Dog with his noise and tumultuous waves.
My nose got clogged with stinky suntan lotion and full diapers when the wind changed from off the water to sweeping along the sand. I could still pick out some interesting smells through it all, however. There were hot dogs, sandwiches and all kinds of sweet food treasures. There was also the scent of real dogs and Bipeds. Above it all, that familiar, faint vapor floated. It played in my head over and over. I still couldn't pinpoint it, but it was still out there, and it was slowly getting stronger. It smelled like a dog I knew.
When Joan and I got back to the umbrella, the vapor alternated between strong and faint. It was most definitely a dog. But what dog? I thought of my Mother, The Runt, Skeeter and Roger... I looked into the wind and saw all kinds of Bipeds coming towards us. Some were walking lazily, others ardently, and yet others running with purpose. Some collected around the umbrellas, laughing, drinking and eating. The young Bipeds ran gleefully into and out of The Ocean.
I could see no Dogs. I could barely see anything. The brisk wind filled my eyes with sand and I cursed being so low to the ground.
"ZINNY!!! ZINNEEEEEEEE!!!"
The voice and the smell were so familiar. I broke out into a run towards the noise that knew my name. I heard Doug swear and Joan shriek behind me. This would most certainly earn me a lifetime on the leash, but I didn't care.
And then it hit me.... or must I say, I hit it? Out of the chaos, I crashed into my sister with the trembling paws. She was on top of me, kissing me and barking. I still couldn't see anything, so I lay on my back and licked indiscriminately in every direction, hoping to connect with her in any way I could.
When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at Trembling Paws and her owner, "Contented Smile" who accepted his life in little pieces.
