You Would Think

I found out today that, in all likelihood, our Ganje family dog doesn’t have much time left.

It bears mentioning that he’s 14 now and that’s quite the old age for a pitbull. It also bears mentioning that he’s had quite the wonderful life. My parents brought him home when we kids were mostly on the way out and he’s been the family staple ever since, barking at intruders that weren’t there and sometimes those that were. With a face now white with age and ears that don’t really work anymore, Zeke is every bit the old man and you’d think I would’ve realized by now that good things don’t last forever but I haven’t. There was a part of me that always thought he’d be there. Whenever I went home, I’d see that old face and wagging tail and everything would be as it was when I was 20 and dropping by the house to say hello.

You would think, after all this time writing about the mortal nature of things and watching mayflies fly in the summer sunlight, I’d be able to prepare myself for that slow creep of eternity that comes eventually for us all. That it wouldn’t pain me to see a best friend go. That I’d nod in appreciation and remembrance of a life well lived. That I wouldn’t cry at the thought of a playful ball of fur no longer being around. You would think, and so would I, but you’d be wrong and I would too. No matter how long I live and how long this whole journey goes on, a part of me hopes I’m always wrong because I don’t want to watch my best friends go and feel anything other than the wistful sadness that they stay for a little while longer.

I don’t ever want to see a story end and be glad to watch it go.

A handful of days ago was the ninth anniversary of my childhood dog passing away. I wouldn’t have remembered that on my own but Facebook sure made certain that I wouldn’t forget it. He was a chubby little Australian Terrier and probably the best friend I will ever have. He never barked at me. He never bit me. He slept with me when I was sick and sat on my lap while I wrote the first hundred pages of the first book I’d ever attempt to write. No matter how bad things got in the worst parts of my head, he was always there and I made a promise to him that I’d be with him until the end. And I was. When we had to take him to the vet to say goodbye, I sat with him through the entire process so that he wouldn’t have to go out of this world alone. It seemed fitting, really. On my worst days, he would never have dreamt of leaving me to fend for myself.

So I sat there with my best friend and I said I was sorry as I watched him go.

I wish I didn’t remember that day so clearly. I wish it was relegated to that portion of my memory that is always so fleeting and fading. But I do and it isn’t. I remember how he wagged his tail when we got there and I remember what it was like when he didn’t anymore. That’s fair, isn’t it? That’s the burden of being the one that lingers. What a pitiful world I’d live in if I didn’t have the heart to miss the friend that isn’t here. That pain is supposed to be felt and remembered until you don’t remember anything anymore. It’s how you say farewell and go on about your life while the tiniest sliver is left behind in that moment. You’ll never get it back and you’re not supposed to. That sliver is for him. It’s for the animal that sat on your lap during the best and worst of times and never asked for anything in return.

It’s for the friend who used to be and what more fitting price could there be?

Nine years later, we are at the same bend in the road. I’m still here and the mortal things fade. In a matter of days the mayflies will die and I’ll be left on my own as I wait an entire year to see them again. I’ll have to say goodbye to another loyal friend who probably doesn’t have it in him to carry on much longer. And here I’ll be with my friends and family, the few but wonderful that I have, and I’ll think the terribly sad things that will always underscore exactly who I am. I’ll always forget the emotions of the good times, the good things always fading fast into the same eternity, and I’ll always remain with the strongest emotions that built what I am today. These stories aren’t crafted on the back of someone who laughs at the darkness in life and carries on boldly forward, they’re the tales of someone trying to figure out what to do while he watches his best friends go on without him.

You would think I’d be used to all this.

You would think it wouldn’t always hit as hard.

You would think I wouldn’t experience the loss of a pet like that of the dearest companion, but you’d be wrong.

Because when they leave, I’m left to wonder how I’ll possibly keep going when the others leave me too.