Black marbles. I've heard it called "jet black" before, but the deep and solid black of his eyes reminds me of the color that my Dad's acrylic paints always called Mars Black. That's it - his eyes are Mars black marbles.
His nose, so characteristic of a pug that it can't be mistaken, lays softly against the railing, one tooth peeking out from under his muzzle. Drool, that ever-present essence of dogness, saturates the concrete below his chin. In so many ways, he resembles every domestic canine ever to grace a household.
As I pull the truck up the dry concrete driveway after work, late by over an hour because of a meeting snafu, I'm reminded of the phone call not 2 minutes earlier from my son. "Where are you?" he whines, with that "I'm hungry" tone coming through loud and clear. "I'm just turning off of the Highway - give me 2 minutes!". So as I disembark the truck, I know that my son and daughter will be bounding out the door, all transmission and no reception, assailing me with accusations of not loving them and statements of dire starvation.
Strange, though, no one's bounding...
So, I turn the corner and start up the stairs, when I see them both through the clear storm door that I'd cleaned not 3 days earlier. But the don't look hungry - they look worried. Pointing downward at the concrete stoop in front of the door.
And there he is - the Mars Black dog. We don't own a dog, much less this dog. And there's one more problem. He's graced his last household - those Mars black eyes open, vacant, and gone.
So many thoughts and emotions! Who is he? Who does he belong to? The kids discovered him - are they ok? They seem to have thought he was asleep. Was he hit and someone left him? Did he get ill and climb up the stairs in hope of finding help? He hasn't been dead long - that seems obvious. The vets are closed - do I bury him? I don't KNOW anyone with a pug... do I? The kids and my wife are starving and I have to make dinner! But ... I can't leave this poor soul.
What do I do?!
I call the vets in town - of course in vain as they've been closed for over an hour. Emotionally, I'm exhausted from the day: this just happens to be the day that my wife was diagnosed with Diabetes (somewhat expectedly, but nonetheless a real change in diet and life begins today for her and us all), I'm late, and now I'm at a point where there has to be action taken, but I don't know what. AHHHH!
With some sage advice from my wise Mother, I climb in the car and drive to the street behind mine where I've seen pugs before. No luck though - a talk with one new neighbor and another that's long in the tooth as well as the gab inform me that those pugs moved away last year ("good RIDDANCE!" I hear). So, I start back and drive my neighborhood. Stopping neighbors along the way, two sets tell me of one couple with a pug, "But he doesn't go out of the house" they both say. So, I arrive to announce my search, the bearer of the worst news.
In short, yes, their blind dog Simon does appear to be out of the house - they haven't noticed. As I bring the owner to the house, I try as gently as possible to break the news, and it's taken well - especially after confirming that it's his 6 year old pet. He's been acting wierdly the past few days, and he went blind suddenly within the past 6 months. We surmise that he may have simply passed away, not knowing where he way.
He probably found my steps, and was hoping it was his house. How could he know. His eyes had failed him. Those gentle Mars Black eyes. RIP Simon.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment