A Dog and His Big Red One

The Dog and his Vet have been gone from us for decades now. Dog’s person was affectionately known by his call sign; that of a Vietnam War helicopter pilot. “Vet” will do here, in sympathy with others of his generation who were hurt serving, then shared scorn from those who did not.

Dog had no military alias as he came later. Later was when war broken Vet had finally recovered enough; when his trove of hard-earned Recovery Tokens allowed him to feel responsible again. It was then that he donned his Big Red One hat, despite that it might trigger more intensive questioning about his fitness. He was ready then, even proud, to step forward, hoping to file an application for adoption and become a loving guardian.

Dog was literally dying to be saved. His mother had discarded him and human verdict had him anyway wrong on standards for his English Springer Spaniel breed. He was runt skinny, scared and ashamed. He thought himself useless. His beseeching eyes, though, and warm tan spots, sparked the heart of Vet. Dog then instantly realized himself as Sparks, making inevitable, an application process.

As mutual trust enveloped the duo, Vet began to feel better and better. Could he be worthy of happiness again? He reached out and found himself a sweetheart, but she lived away.

“The big they” had called PTSD on Vet in his profession; how dare they? Of course they were not wrong, so now he was fighting furiously again, this time, against being idled away. Thus, he was unsure how boldly to step forward. Sparks needed behavioral work too and so Vet decided short visits to the lady were in order, without the sweet boy, until a relationship was certain.

Dog was often topical, so the lady invited him home sooner than expected. After a trip of some hours, Sparks alit from the car and peed on its wheel. Vet was super proud when Sparks presented himself quietly inside, even as his tail fell tentatively between his legs. Then the lightweight fluff of pent-up joy went straight to the arm of the damask sofa and lifted his leg, for he could not contain himself. Vet was most dismayed, and while trying to make sorry, Sparks zoomed to the bedroom and peed on the new comforter. Vet was practically in tears, but the mess cleaned itself well; the sofa having a protective stain coating. Vet was certain the two would be exited in horror, but Sparks had already connected, offering himself to the lady’s lap on the very sofa he thought to mark as his own. He was not wrong. 

No lavishing of love, nor abundance of good eats could remedy the skinny. All energy went to loving and kissing and wagging. Oh yes, he was a terribly scraggly boy.

Internal turmoil still vexed at times and Vet was subject to outburst. Just as everything good seemed to be within immediate reach, he thought to present his best self to this future, and so risked it all, by calling a timeout for further rehabilitation.

ARMY

They were of the citified Mid-Atlantic, but help was in Hawaii. Vet had family in Maine with room for Sparks to run. The Jimmy wore Purple Heart license plates on route to Sparks’ vacation and Vet, his Big Red One hat; being proud was part of being well.

The family trio had reason to queue during the trip. Purposeful audible chatter ushered from behind, suggesting Vet was abusive to have such a skinny dog. That Sparks and his Dad were mutually smitten had gone unnoticed. Still, should you see something, say something, and never stand idly by, so Vet thanked them. He politely corrected their assumptions, then slipped into melancholy. The hurt resonated through many states and made drop-off miserable.

Hilo: a lush tropical place to heal broken Vets; not a holiday spot. Green and hot and wet, so as to evoke that other place, where not too long past, green had turned red.  There to remember in order to sort out, to listen and be listened to, to learn to turn turmoil to tranquility, to learn to live again with inner peace.  That was the destination for Vet.

MAINE DOG

Sparks had the most splendid of summers, truly. Still, he flew over the fields in joyous circling on spying the Jimmy returning. Momentum would not allow him to stop when Vet emerged, passing him by, by a mile. When the two finally made contact, painful absence simply melted away. Yet, Vet had a most unselfish vision, one kept to himself, that Sparks would be better off in this off-leash paradise. He had come to say good-bye. His grief stricken lady could but support him, as Sparks was returned to his new home.

Jimmy pulled away with driver and occupant distraught to muffled sobs. Half a mile down the way, another vision emerged in rear-view, an elegant white streak, an angel really, yelping that no freedom would flow in exceptional longing. Sparks’ winsome slobber, interrupted by deepest of naps, was welcomed all the way home to his citified dream.

PITTSBURG AIRPORT

Message being input to Voicemail a few months hence and just after nighttime fell: Hi Vet, changing planes, home soon, have an hour to kill... Voicemail was cut by an agonized live voice, then countered thus: What’s wrong? … NO! A hole in the fencing?  Was he hit? … The third rail?  The third rail! … Home soon, soon.

MERCY AMID FRENZY

Frenzy at Pittsburgh Airport: Window shopping!  What for? Only Providence knew. Stuffed animal? Just no! Sweets? Of course not! Up the escalator; eyes to windows along the halls, then down the stairs and up again. Tears bitterly withheld.  Time running out. There he is! THAT’S HIM! A vintage Castagna statue – him, for certain, but solid bronze colored. Still, a mercy that such would be found in this airport, at this moment of grief; that Sparks would be here, in the window, calling out once more “please take me”.

Well, he wasn’t really. It was their 1988 Setter who had waited a decade to be claimed. Welling tears magically transformed this bronze boy to our “wrong for his English Springer Spaniel breed” and just in time, because time was up.

BRONZE DOG PRESENTED

Vet, encountered as the front door closed, was mute for minutes. Then he began to recount the incident, never weeping at the telling. Quiet detail included self-incrimination, for he had relaxed the leash law into the conceal of twilight. When the bronze boy escaped his wrap, Vet dissolved into sobs of abject sorrow. Sparks had healed him of much that Hilo had represented. Now he was able to feel this loss profoundly; appropriately.

ACCEPT, NOT ASK

Only one had slept that night, then be left to wonder how paints and brushes had materialized after day was done. Question could not form to coherent word, anymore than it could about the dog who appeared timely in an airport window display. The bronze boy was Sparks when morning came. Only that mattered.

Jimmy’s windows were streaked with old slobber, much because Sparks had been a faithful participant in Mom’s transfer to and from the train, for work. All the better to drool down her neck, evidence of his adoration. Dad wore his Big Red One hat as he transferred every gob from the windows to his heart.

Sparks had assumed a mission of healing love and fulfilled it perfectly, so even as Vet grieved his loss, he found increased joy in every new day. That feeling piece of his broken heart had mended. Alas, evil Agent Orange, a repeat visitor of helicopters down, had shattered another. When summer next renewed its glory, Vet, content and grateful for his best life, passed on.