A Pet’s Hook
An easy beginning to this blog would be to say a pet’s hook is its unconditional acceptance and love. The truth and effect of such an expression is amplified by I did nothing special to earn its affection. The pet’s freely given focused responses can’t help but warm one’s heart, and it’s the loss of the pet’s actions that cause a piercing pain when they die.
What does the pet’s hook look like? Having had both dogs and cats for pets I am flooded with memories of endearing actions. One memory that refuses to let go happened when my cat, Noodles, was seriously ill, stomach infection the vet said. Have him swallow this medicine. Easier said than done. What a struggle! Holding him in my arms, using the syringe, I tried to drop the contents into his mostly closed mouth. My soothing words close to his face weren’t working. A strong paw swipe hit my face. Paw pads not claws. My perceived telepathic message––I don’t want to hurt you. Still his actions call for tears. Even though I was forcing him to do what he didn’t want, he didn’t want to hurt the one he loved.
A reported action from my wife––minutes before you come home from work Noodles paces by the front window. Frequently he climbs up and looks for you. With boots caked with snow, I stamp into the house. Noodles waits for me. Together we walk to the chair where I take my boots and mittens off. He sits patiently until I can reach down and pet him. He does this for no one else in the house. Why the strong attachment? Could it be because I rescued him from the Humane Society?
Many such small gestures of Noodle’s affection served to capture my heart. A year later I still grieve his loss. It is such animals’ actions from pet’s that I’ve had over the years that lead me to understand how Amber, in my novel Baggage burdens. would feel when she heard that her father put Hoss, her pet horse, down before she could say her good-byes. From Amber’s expressions of the loss, I leave it to you to picture what actions Hoss did to win her heart.
“No!” Amber slams the phone receiver down.
Amber’s feet race up the stairs. Moments later, Jill finds her daughter lying on her bed crying. Ten minutes of coaxing releases a tidbit of information—“Hoss is dead,” a second round of wailing.
Shocked, Jill rolls her daughter over and gathers Amber into her arms.
“What happened, honey?”
Amber takes a deep breath. With red eyes, she looks up at her mother. “Eve asked if I was still coming over to their place this Sunday. I thought it was a strange question, but I told her yes. She thought that since Hoss died, I might not want to come over right away.”
Amber cries. After several deep breaths, she continues. “I told Eve I didn’t know. I hadn’t heard. She apologized for being so blunt. She found Hoss lying down, his breathing very shallow. She called the vet right away. The vet said something about Hoss’s heart. I don’t remember what. They called Dad.”
The moment Amber said “dad,” she began crying again. Jill draws Amber close. Amber pulls away and continues.
“Dad gave the vet permission to put Hoss to sleep, Eve said.”
Crying starts.
“Amber, I should have called you as soon as I knew the vet wanted to put Hoss to sleep.”
“That’s right. You should have,” says Amber. A trace of anger lines her response.
“I want you to know that my failing to call you had nothing to do with me not loving you.”
“I know. Mom told me. Work comes first.”
The comment burns Joseph like a firm slap in the face. He resolves to stick to his plan. Joseph tells Amber about the vet’s emergency call pulling him out of a meeting with Mr. Olsen’s suppliers. Then he relates the vet’s diagnosis and recommendation. As he suspects, Amber listens even though the information is several days late. “I thought of calling you then, but the vet didn’t want to have to make a return visit to the Wicksbergs’.
“I’m sorry, Amber. Maybe I should have insisted that he come back, but lately life at work has been a major turmoil. I thought I couldn’t handle any more situations.” He holds Amber’s attention. “When the vet asked if I wanted to prolong Hoss’s suffering, I gave in. Please forgive me.” He hopes her silence means she’s considering his request.
haiku capsule:
my horse, my pet, dead!
jolting phone call squeezes tear drops
pet’s love-hook ripped out
Nextblog: I,Me, Myself
Order the e-book from kindle or kobo now or your soft cover from Amazon.
What actions has a pet used to grip your heart or a friend’s?
I’d love to use it on my new website that’s being developed.
All comments will be entered for a draw on the Baggage burdens.companion novel.
No comments:
Post a Comment