A Little Bit of Me

Jottings and Writing, miscellanous misgivings

A Dogs Tail Tale

A Dogs Tail Tale       images

She lay on her side, her ragged breath imperceptibly moving her outer clothing. Beside her lay Beatrice, her King Charles spaniel, her constant companion apart from the hospitalisations of both of them for the last twelve years. She had originally been born Amyrll Beatricia Candy and was a pure breed but the old woman had renamed her Beatrice not realising that like ships, renaming an animal is fraught with superstition. And it had been a superstitious relationship. Beatrice had provide time and time again that she was capable of ignoring her breeding and resorting to escaping from enclosed and locked yards and cavorting with all manner of mongrels. The old woman had her spayed early on in the piece but her instinct to escape and make mischief remained with her until her legs and heart no longer had the energy to dig and run.

Now she lay in what could be the trows of death and the old woman’s family gathered round in her and the dogs time of need although the two children hated the dog with a venom that was only matched by that which attached the women to her pet. The vet had been phoned and the old woman had finally accepted that the end was near, as was her own end. An end to living on her own, possibly an end to living altogether – but for Beatrice , her ends was coming this very night as the cold winter chill closed in on the house on the hill. The son had already prepared a shallow grave in a spot chosen by his elderly mother. He had made sure that she could see the grave site from her bed and had fashioned a crude cross and a spray of flowers so that she could see her beloved Beatrice. The now huddled around the two reclined forms as the old woman suddenly tried to change her mind.

“She seems to have eaten and held down that bowl of food”, she intoned for the third time “she seems to be pulling back form the brink”.

The dog twitched as if she sensed what was going on and felt a reprieve but the children looked at the pile of regurgitated food in the corner and nodded knowingly to each other. A knock on the door signalled the arrival of the vet. He entered the over warm room and quickly looked around and greeted the old woman who he had much contact with in the past year. Beatrice had slowly withdrawn from life and received injections of steroids, antibiotics, pain killers and many other medicinal remedies which now stood at nearly $2000. So his little cash cow or cash dog had finally come to an end. He was a caring and compassionate vet but he also ran a business and this little dog had lived well past her use by date. He opened his bag and asked the obvious questions.

“Are you sure? – I will make it as painless as possible – has there been arrangements made for disposal”.

At that last utterance the old woman shrieked and asked be escorted off to bed.

The children looked in amazement as he shuffled along the corridor with the aid of her walker.

“Doesn’t she want to hold her?” the daughter asked.

The son just rolled his eyes, being used to the eccentric behaviour of his mother.

Then the vet announced that he was missing one of the important drugs that needed to be administered and he left the room intimating he would return in several minutes. An half an hour rolled by and the two children, eager to continue with their nightly routine became anxious, then annoyed at the delay.  They commenced to talk about what would happen to the house and their mother after this. They talked of the possibility of a rest home and then the daughter unveiled her plans for the refurbishment and then sale of the family home. The son rolled his eyes and remembered what growing up with these two people had been like. He silently prayed for the quick return of the vet. His prayers were answered a few minutes later and the little man glided into the room with a triumphant look on his face and drew up the two needles.

“One to ease the pain, one for the job”, he announced ghoulishly.

The daughter left the room to fetch the mother but, to her shock, she looked peacefully asleep in her bed which overlooked the soon to be grave of her beloved pet.

They waited after the vet had departed. He had said about a half an hour but the dog appeared to be going into rigour after about fifteen minutes so they gathered her up in her favourite blanket and made the journey to the gravesite. The son had tried to get the daughter to stay with the mother in case she woke up and realised what had happened and plunged into a hysterical fit which had happened at times like this in the past, but the daughter insisted on coming. The son really did not want her to see that he had laid out a bag of quicklime next to the grave which he was going to empty over the corpse to compensate for the shallowness of the grave and the inevitable smell. He had read that quicklime hastened decomposition and had decided that could only be a bonus.

“All right, just follow along with the torch so I can see where I am going.”

The path to the garden grave was dark and through a small grove of bushes. As he approached the gravesite the torch suddenly flickered out and the garden was plunged into darkness. He felt a root catch his foot and he plunged forward, Beatrice flying from his arms. He thought of angels and was relived that he hadn’t plunged face first into the garden. When they got the torch going again they had lost the dog. Where had she gone? They searched through the shrubs and then the daughter uttered a scream.

Beatrice lay, with all four legs stiffly in the air, on her back in the open grave. She had landed perfectly upside down as her last act of freedom. The son silently shushed the daughter away and resumed his grisly task.


1 Comment»

  Mike wrote @

Just passing by.Btw, your website have great content!

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