Shelby Park

She was a 30-pound beagle, originally a mix of brown, white, and black. Now, she was mostly white. Historically stubborn, consistently vocal, and universally loved by all who met her, Allie had been with Steve and his wife longer than their only child. That child, Sammy, now seven-years-old, had never known life without the dog to keep him company. This is what worried Steve and Tricia the most: How would Sammy handle the idea of Allie not being around anymore? Even more than that, how would he handle something worse?

Diabetes had caused the dog to go blind earlier that year. In the winter, they noticed her urinating in the house and bumping into walls with increasing frequency. They finally took her to the vet and learned about the diabetes. Now, in the middle of summer, they couldn’t avoid it any longer. They felt worse about keeping her alive than they would if they were to lose her. Sammy hadn’t been introduced to death besides the abstract ideas from cartoons and movies. Steve wasn’t sure how to go about doing it, but he had to make use of the practice. The dog would be difficult, but she was just a warm-up.

Tricia decided to stay home. She said it might be easier if Sammy didn’t feel like they were teaming up on him; that he might feel overwhelmed. Steve figured she didn’t want her son to see her in tears.

The three of them, Steve, Sammy, and Allie, jumped into their four-door sedan and drove to Shelby Park. It was a bit of an oasis in the middle of the city: An expanse of multiple baseball fields, a golf course, bike trails that ran along the river, and right in the middle was a small lake where locals occasionally snagged catfish. Depending on the day and time, the park could range from overflowing to spaciously occupied. But when the sedan finished navigating the winding roads and parked in the lot next to the lake, they found the park completely empty.

“Wow,” said Steve as he opened the driver’s-side door. “I can’t believe this.” He scanned the roads and paths and trails for people, but found none. He held his breath for a moment and heard nothing besides the congregation of ducks and cranes pecking in the water and speaking their funny language. He opened the back door where Allie was sitting on the floor behind the driver’s seat. She looked up when the door opened.

“Come on, girl. Let’s go.” But she didn’t move until he grabbed the leash and gave her a light tug. She gingerly stepped her way out of the back seat and shook her head once she was on the pavement.

Sammy unbuckled himself and climbed out of the car. Steve found him looking at the ducks after walking around the car.

“Ready, bud?” he asked his son.

Sammy turned around and smiled. “Yup!”

They walked down a paved path that ran along the perimeter of the lake. Allie trotted alongside Steve. She had become much better on the leash after her sight started to dim. Previously, she would be pulling, choking herself, to follow a scent. He had always wished she would walk right next to him like the dogs in the commercials, but he didn’t want it to happen as the result of a disease.

The humidity and heat from the day was present, but dying. The sun was giving them an orange glow through the tops of the trees to the west. The lightning bugs drifted along the grass, flashing their rhythms that surely meant something, but Steve had never taken the time to learn. There was no wind. This is why Steve became alarmed when his son stopped walking, looked up, and pointed.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“The clouds are moving,” said Sammy. He spoke with a sense of awe, but not shock. Steve glanced up and mirrored his son’s awe, but added a sense of shock.

The clouds were moving at an alarming rate. This isn’t so rare in an area that is prone to volatile weather. But usually, the clouds move in the same general direction. This time, however, it was different. Like a ripple of water as the result of a dropped pebble, the clouds moved outwards in an expanding circle. Steve and Sammy watched quietly as the clouds drifted in this outward fashion until they disappeared behind the trees. It only took a couple minutes, but the sky was now completely clear. The only things left were the setting sun and the approaching darkness from the east.

“Where did they all go?” asked Sammy.

“They, uh, they went to bed.” This made Steve think of sleep. This made Steve think of the first reason he was out there. They continued walking and Steve decided that if he didn’t have a plan at this point, he might as well just start talking.

“Hey Sammy, come here,” he said. Sammy took a few more steps before walking around the dog and standing next to his father. Steve took his hand. “Listen, so, you know how Al’s been having some problems lately?”

“Yeah. She’s not supposed to potty inside.”

“Right. Well, you see, things aren’t going to get any better for Al.” He was trying to take mental notes as he spoke, trying to figure out what could be used the next time he had to talk to Sammy like this. “She’s had a long, happy life. Happier than some of the people I know.”

“She’s the best.” Sammy let go of Steve’s hand and walked in front of the dog. Allie bumped into his legs and sat down, looking up towards where the child was probably standing. Sammy gave her a hug.

“Yeah. I know.” Steve looked out at the water while his son hugged his dog. He wished he could just go for a swim. The water looked clean.

There wasn’t anybody around. He turned back towards his son. “Hey,” he gave the leash a tug. “Come here.” The dog stood up and walked towards the tug. Sammy followed. Steve bent over and rubbed the dog’s head. Without straightening up, he said: “Well, like I said. Al’s not going to get any better. In fact, she’s only going to get worse. And we don’t want to see her in pain, right Sammy?”

“No,” he said, still petting the dog.

“Right. That’s why we’re going to have to let her go.” He tried to look into his son’s face, but his son was only looking at the dog.

“Like, to another family?”

“No, not exactly. She’s not going to have a family. I mean, we’ll still be her family, but…” He trailed off. “She’s going to go to sleep, and she won’t wake up.” He expected the tears to signify an understanding, but that didn’t happen.

“So we have to let her go?” he asked.

Steve straightened up and pulled on the leash again. “Yeah.” He led the dog to the edge of the water. He was a little worried she wouldn’t remember how to swim, it had been a year or two, but he had to try. He got as close as he could without getting his shoes wet, and pulled her until her feet touched the water. After that, muscle memory kicked in and Steve barely had enough time to unclick the leash as she entered the lake.

“Al,” he warned as she swam out, but she kept herself close to shore.

The water wasn’t deep, anyway.

Steve watched his dog taking her last swim with his son by his side. If it weren’t for the fish starting to jump, he would have lost his composure. It was just a couple at first. A little sploosh off to the side as if Sammy had tossed a rock into the water. Then there was another. By the fourth jump within ten seconds, Sammy started to laugh. Each jumping fish after that only grew in hilarity to the boy. Another one. And another one. And these fish weren’t just surfacing for air, they were launching themselves out of the water as if being electrically shocked.

Despite the noise, Allie continued to swim back and forth along the shore. Her head bobbed slightly as she paddled, tongue hanging down to the water. As if a clap of thunder erupted from the clear sky, the lake became a dancing static of jumping fish. Steve took a step back in surprise but Sammy didn’t budge. Every fish in the entire lake not only jumped, but was jumping. It almost sounded like applause as the splashing continued without a sign of ever stopping. Steve’s first reaction was worry, that something was terribly wrong, but he was able to quiet that part of himself and watch his dog of ten years enjoying her last moments in the lake while the fish launched into the air behind her.

Finally, Allie walked back up to the shoreline and as if on cue, the fish quieted down as she shook herself dry. Sammy still hadn’t moved from the time Allie went into the water.

“Sammy? You okay, buddy?” Steve expected to see his face covered in tears, but when the child turned around, he was smiling.

“Did you see that, Dad? The fish dancing with Al?”

“Yeah, yeah I saw it.” He put his arm around his son before clipping the leash on the dog’s collar. “Do you have any questions? You know, about Al?” This was the part he wanted to hammer down. The idea of the dog going away and not coming back, but not because of choice. As long as he could get that idea through to his son, it would make it much easier when he had to tell Sammy about what the doctor told him a few weeks before. The reason Tricia wanted to give the three of them some time alone.

“Do you think she’s going to dream about swimming when she goes to sleep?”

“I hope so, buddy.”

The sun had mostly set while Allie was taking her last swim. The streetlights in the park were lighting themselves and Steve decided it was time for them to head home. They started walking back along the paved path and Steve couldn’t help but ask Sammy a question.

“Hey, Sammy? I just wanted to ask you why, y’know, you didn’t cry when I told you about Allie?” He knew it was stupid. He knew nothing good could come from it but he had to know. He had to know if his son didn’t fully understand what he meant, or if his son was bottling his emotions, or if his son might simply be a psychopath.

Sammy turned around to face his father, but pointed instead. “Dad, look.”

Steve followed his son’s point and stopped walking. Allie gave a little tug on the leash but stopped pulling when it was clear they weren’t walking anymore, which is good, because Steve dropped the leash.

“Oh my god,” he said. The cloudless sky in front of him, that moments ago held the fleeting moments of the sunset, that had already started its descent into deep blue and later black, that had already started to become peppered with the first stars of the evening, had started to grow orange. The same orange that had painted the sky ten minutes before.

And despite every experience Steve had during his 34 years of life, everything he had ever learned about the sun and the sky and the Earth, he watched as the sun peaked itself above the tree line for a moment, and reset itself for another descent. A second sunset.

He was about to say something, he didn’t know what it would be until it came out, when he felt Sammy grab his hand. He looked down at his son with wide eyes, holding his breath, and saw Sammy smiling. Steve looked back to the second sunset and felt the brief warmth of the sun.

He turned his head and saw Allie in the sunlight, lying on the pavement, panting, trying to dry her coat. The leash sat limp between them. Steve briefly thought that he might not even be experiencing this, that he was too late and wouldn’t have to tell Sammy the news he had been putting off for weeks, but the warmth from the sun and the grip on Sammy’s hand brought him out of this fantasy. He was here, for the time being, holding his son’s hand with his best friend, wet from a swim, lying behind him. They watched in silence for the next few minutes as the sun completed its second rest of the evening.

“We have to go.” He squeezed his son’s hand before he let it go.

“Okay, Dad.”

Steve picked up the leash and Allie followed them back to the car. He was worried the whole car would smell like wet dog for a while, but then he realized that might be nice.

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to his son, but he knew Tricia would have to be there when he did. Perhaps the two talks in one night might be too much for the boy, but as he watched Sammy climb into the front seat and buckle himself in, he knew that wouldn’t be an issue.

“Just a second,” he said into the car before he pulled out his phone and leaned against the closed door. He opened his messages and started a new one to his wife: “Everything went fine. I have a story for you. But I think tonight we should tell him.”

He started to slide the phone back into his pocket when the response came: “Are you sure? Both in one night?”

He clicked out his response and he climbed back into the car:

“I’m sure.”