A quote: “Both young children and old people have a lot of time on their hands. That’s probably why they get along so well.” ~~ Jonathan Carroll
I’ll start with a story …
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Fox appears at the back fence the afternoon of Davy’s 6th birthday. Party guests have left and Higgins is snuffling around for bits of dropped cake while Davy races around fueled on sugar and excitement.
Higgins looks up, hackles rising and steps to block Fox from approaching, growling a warning. “Leave, Fox. Back to the woods.”
Fox cocks his head, looking from him to Davy and back. He coughs, a tendril of mist reaching out to settle on Davy’s shoulders. Higgins gives chase, loud enough Davy’s parents come running.
Higgins paces the house at night, laying across the doorway to Davy’s room as he’s done since infancy. A cough in the dark makes Higgins whine.
Days into weeks into months, Davy is failing.
The light is gone from Higgins’ family, and Davy has shrunk into the hospital bed he uses in the dining room.
It is a full moon when Fox appears again. Higgins blocks him from approaching the house, rumbles deep, “Why?”
Fox answers, “It is time.” He looks at Davy, now next to Higgins, clutching his fur, “It is my purpose.”
“No!”
Fox blinks, “Sometimes the egg doesn’t hatch, the kits don’t survive the winter. There are lists, balances.”
Davy nods but Higgins cries, “Take me!” And he looks up to the boy, “I love you.” Davy drops to his knees, “But I love you, too! You can’t go!”
Higgins watches as mist pours out of Davy and settles on him. As Higgins eyes close, he’s at peace. He realizes his purpose in life and has fulfilled it.
Morning comes as Davy’s parents find him asleep, a blush of pink across his cheeks, Higgins lying motionless next to him in the circle of his arms.
Good boy.
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Now, it’s your turn (and yes, I went over 200 words today. Feel free to write the story as it wants to be written)
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
Whenever Jamie comes up here, the first thing he wants to do is go play with Rusty. Tom and Barb live in an apartment in Setdown City, and the lease says “no pets,” so of course Jamie can’t wait to play with Meemaw and Pop-pop’s dog, just like in all the books and vids he loves.
Barb never liked it. As far as she was concerned, it was rude for Jamie to be so interested in “that mutt” that he barely bothered to say hi to his grandparents. But she was the daughter of an airman, so she’d grown up moving from one base to another, which meant no possibility for having a dog, or any other kind of pet for that matter. She really doesn’t get the bond that forms between a young boy and a dog, not the way I did growing up in suburbia, in those last halcyon days when kids could still be told “go out and burn off some energy” without being accused of neglect. I’d spend hours every day after school running around with a bunch of buddies and all our families’ dogs, having fun in crazy ways that would get child protection services called just a few decades later.
And then the Kitties showed up, letting us know that this part of the galaxy was embroiled in an existential war that made World War II look like a dustup between a gang of bullies and the local Boy Scout troop and 4H club. So we all came out here to settle this new world as part of the vast picket line against the xenocidal Tchiador — but Tom wanted to “get into the action” with one of the big Imperial corporate concerns, so he’s living in what passes as the Big City, while I wanted a business of my own, and opened a feed store up here in a small town in farm country.
Tom’s making the big bucks — or mowsu — but at the cost of living in a rabbit hutch, while I’m able to have a house with a yard and a garden and henhouse out back, just like Ruth always dreamed of after her dad got pushed out of farming in the big shakeouts of the 80’s and 90’s. And I try not to point out which one Jamie prefers.
I’ve done my duty as a host, settling Tom and Barb in on the porch. Ruth can keep them occupied while I take Jamie down to the creek to net some of the local critters that aren’t exactly tadpoles. Maybe the landlord at that apartment wouldn’t complain too badly about a jar or two going home with them.
Cameron says: We adopted Kenny two months before my wife found out she was pregnant. My boy and Kenny got along from the beginning. Kenny was ecstatic to have something small to look after and as my son got older, he liked having a friend that would eat parts of his dinner that he didn’t like.
There were a lot of moments that Kenny was there for. When Alex took his first steps, Kenny positioned himself to catch him if he fell. When he was sick, Kenny made sure that the boy was never without a companion. When Alex came home feeling sad from something that happened at school, Kenny was there to make sure that the tears were cleaned up and his boy was smiling again.
But they don’t live as long as people. Kenny got older and slower. When he snapped at Alex, we knew that things were ending soon. Some parents criticized us for not having Kenny put down while Alex was at school and spinning a tale about taking him to a farm.
The final lesson that Kenny gave Alex was that you need to be there for those who love you even when it breaks your heart.
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