Going Down Slow
Dream of Death – 1 It’s not what he expected, this dying. It’s taking longer than he thought, for one thing. He’s more familiar with faster ways to die: like the abrupt heart attack that felled his father like a tree; or the fever that took his mother within a week; or the rogue bullet that claimed a classmate’s future one hunting season. But this. They saved him from a massive coronary death, yes–but just so he could go down slow, taking months. Not that he is complaining about the extra time. It’s just not what he expected. And something else he didn’t expect, since after all it’s his heart giving out, is how his mind is unraveling. It started with the forgetting. He’d be chugging along a thought, maybe trying to say something, and...
Read MoreThe Mission
Army K-9 kennel, Monterey,California: 1957 Joe crept past the pen where Lady was kept, signaling her to keep silent. Since his retirement a week before, he had no authorization to be on the premises of the Army kennel, certainly not at 0245 hours. He could smell the faint, acrid scent of his own fear along with the stronger, almost skunky odor of dog urine. But he knew, in spite of the churning cramps in his stomach, what he had to do. Without a doubt, Lady was telepathic. The ESP experiments were proof. It made sense that some of the pups in her litter had the ability, too. He knew the Army suspected as much, and he knew how they operated They could go to any lengths. A puppy could be brutally injured to find out if it would mentally “call” another...
Read MoreThat Nice Girl with the Dogs
Winter began without warning one day in October. I was sitting on the cold tile floor of the examining room helping to hold my dog, Sirocco, when the vet explained she had only a matter of weeks. “The steroid medication I’ve prescribed will delay the progress of the cancer, but there’s no cure. Most likely, she’ll be active and happy for another four, maybe six, weeks. Right up until the end.” As I had been taught, I didn’t cry or protest, but fought for calm, clutching the fur of her scruff as the white room ballooned, then shrank. The rest of the vet’s words were almost lost to me under the terrible shushing of blood in my ears. “When the end comes, it’ll be fast, within a day, most likely.” I called her Sirocco because she was the color of sand and swept along...
Read MoreThere When You Need Him
Arnie and I don’t have what you’d call a storybook marriage. We met a little late in life, well past any giddy expectation of finding a soul mate. Still, we feel loving toward each other, share a friendly physical affection, and have built a comfortable routine for a day-to-day life together. But I keep a distance from him. It’s never been my way to reveal my fears and doubts. I was raised to prize self-reliance, so I don’t like to ask for help or reassurance. I hide my childish yearning to be held close and kept safe. But that mute longing to be taken care of, buried for years without light or air, is still there—shapeless and powerful— and somehow shameful for its being hidden. So four days ago, when Death glanced my way with a casual sweep of the eyes and...
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