Cha cha cha

The room was hollow, dripping with despair, no light to spare. Peace was present, but only behind the apricot fur of the six month old poodle, sleeping without a care in front of the fireplace. Burning oak was no comfort to the man, the woman. Wet cheeks and grief, fear, kept them cold.

“You tell me mother. How am I to explain to a five year old that he is never going to see his mother again?” He held his head in his hands, his crew cut left him without any hair to pull. They had not been home more than an hour when the hospital called to say her heart had stopped.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Mother! He’s a boy, a boy who probably up until yesterday in his subconscious could still remember suckling her breast. All of that gone now, replaced with what mother? Blood? Twisted metal? Sirens? How can you be so callous about her death, so cruel?”

“Wait a minute, how can I be so cruel? Wasn’t Shana the cruel one when she drove drunk with Graeme in the car. Every day he looks in the mirror, his scar will remind him of what she did to him. She scarred him in more ways than one! It’s unforgivable! She can rot in hell for all I care.”

Wind gusting from the west startled them all with what sounded like a knock on the door, and Booker, only trying to do his job awoke with a bark, his signature, four shorts one long.

“Mother what good does the blame game do now, and will you shut that thing up?”

“Thing! Jake! He’s a puppy! And puppies are known to bark! Com’ear Bookie. Good boy.” Booker jumped up on Nana’s lap and nuzzled in. Her anger and his body warmed her just enough. She pet him from head to tail, tickling him like a concert pianist touching piano keys and talked softly to him. “He doesn’t mean it Bookie. He’s just sad and mad is all.”

“I’m sorry mother. My nerves are shot. I didn’t plan on my wife drinking and driving and I certainly didn’t plan on her early demise. I’m gonna need your help, ya know. A lot of help.”

“I know baby. We’ll get through this together. It’ll be okay someday, you’ll see. I promise. Whatever you need for Graeme, Bookie and I will be here as much as you need us. I’ll move in for awhile until life resumes back to normal, as normal as normal can be.”

The next morning, Jake sat in the same rocker Graeme had been nursed in, watching him sleep with anticipation until he woke up. As soon as Graeme’s eyes opened, Jake leaped into the bed wrapping up his son like a shell to its oyster. If he whispered the words, maybe it would soften the blow? Saying what he had to say softly was all the strength he could muster, anyway. “Graeme, Momma has gone to heaven. She won’t be coming home from the hospital.”

Graeme frowned, with a downturned bottom lip and looked at him blankly for about a half a minute. What he said, said more than what he didn’t say, “Is Nana still here? Where’s Bookie?”

“I think I hear them in the kitchen. Nana’s probably fixing some pancakes.”

“I want to play with Bookie.” And it was then that Jake realized the best medicine for his son’s grief was already in his house. Graeme raced down the stairs like it was Christmas morning to join Booker. Nana too, but mainly Booker. Oh, there would be therapists and guidance counselors and the seen and unseen scars, but there is something to be said about the healing effects of a boy’s best friend.

“Nana. Nana! Where are Bookie’s little balls? He likes the green one best right?”

“They’re in my bag Graeme. I’ll go get them. Yes he loves the green one best.” Mother and son looked towards each other lifting eyebrows and shoulders silently signaling to roll with Graeme’s wishes.

Nana stopped flipping flaps and got the balls out of her bag, little balls that were just the right size for a fifteen pound mini poodle’ s mouth.

“What’s that word you said Nana? He’s abses?”

“Obsessed Graeme. Obsessed. Bookie is obsessed with his green ball and will play all day fetching it, if we let him.”

“That’s what I want to do today. Play ball with Bookie all day, okay?” Sure thing son, said Jake, holding back his tears. “Right after breakfast and after I change your bandage my brave boy, okay?”

“Okay Dad. Anyway, I am abses with Nana’s pancakes, too!” And the three of them were able to let out just a little bit of a chuckle, before big bites of fluffy jacks.

And so it was, the days went on, the scar began to heal and every day Nana and Booker were there for Graeme. Since she had trained other poodles over the years, Nana was in the process of teaching Booker to sit, give paw, roll over and more, but her favorite trick was the cha cha cha. Holding a treat over Booker’s head, she’d make a zig zag motion to a cha cha beat, and he’d stand up and dance for her everytime. But Nana never took credit. She’d practice each day with Booker when Graeme was at school, and when he got in the house, it was always Graeme that believed he was the dog whisperer, positively giddy at feeling accomplished as Bookers trainer.

“God boy Booker, do you want a treat?” Rollover, lay down, cha cha cha, and one day became the next until he came off the bus with his head down and a frown they had rarely seen since his mother passed away. When he got in the house and he didn’t seem interested in seeing Booker, that’s when Nana really became concerned. “What’s wrong Buddy? Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Blopping down on the floor, defeated. “Graeme you know you can talk to me about anything. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

After some hesitation and more prompting from Nana, Graeme finally conceded and said, “Okay. It’s Johnny at school. He said on the bus that I have an ugly Frankenstein face, and I think he is right. All the kids laughed when he said it, and he got in trouble, and had to sit next to the bus driver, but that didn’t make me feel better. And I think all the other kids have mommy’s, because I see them waiting at the bus stop and I don’t have mine, and sometimes that makes me very sad and very mad about what happened.”

Oh, honey, it’s all going to be okay, someday Graeme. I promise. It’s not true that you look like Frankenstein. You are a handsome boy and anyway as time goes on that scar will fade. And it’s true and it’s very very sad that you have no mommy, but I’m here for you and Booker’s here for you. You don’t want to make him sad too, do you? Why don’t we get the green ball and take Booker over to the park?”

“I don’t want to. I feel too sad and mad and now Booker probably won’t like me anymore, either.”

“Oh, that’s not true. Booker loves you,” and as if on cue, Booker leaped across the room and into Graeme’s lap, with a whole lot of puppy dog kisses. As if the conversation never happened, Graeme said, “Where’s the green ball Nana, let’s go.”

When they were walking back from the park, Nana had an idea. “Hey Graeme. What if I call your teacher and see if we can set up a show and tell with Booker and you can show off all the tricks you have taught him.”

“Can we Nana. Can we?”

“I can’t promise, but I’ll call the school tomorrow and ask.”

The school principal was happy to grant Nana and Booker access to the school. The show and tell was all set for Friday afternoon and Grant was so excited he woke up before the crack of dawn, practicing tricks with Booker before Nana could get the coffee pot on. He was happy to get on the bus, but unhappy about having to wait till 1 pm, because in his mind, there was an eternity between 8:30 am and 1 pm, the scheduled event time. In school, he must have stared at the clock every minute, his mind trying to push the minute hand without success. And then finally after eternity less a minute, it was 12:59 and a knock rang the class’s attention. Mrs. Schultz stood before the class, clapped three times, then put her pointer over her mouth with one hand, and with the other she raised her arm high, the signal for the children to pay attention in silence. And then she announced.

“Children we have a special guest today. Graeme’s grandmother is here with his dog for show and tell. I want everyone to sit quietly in your circle spot.” Graeme was so happy that his teacher said his dog and not Nana’s dog. Nana always said that too, and he inwardly embraced her kindness, her generosity, and her promise.

Mrs. Schultz opened the door, and in came Booker on the leash with Nana close behind. She waved at all the kids and they waved back and then Mrs Schultz said, “Graeme, I understand that you have taught Booker a bunch of tricks and you would like to demonstrate what you have taught Booker to the class. Is that right?”

Graeme came forward and said, “Yes, Mrs. Schultz.” And with that Nana passed him the baggie they had packed before he left for school filled with Booker’s assorted treats. She gave him the leash and he took over without hesitation proving that practice makes perfect. One after another, with total concentration, Graeme perfectly executed all of Booker’s tricks in front of his classmates, with a grand finale of a very long cha cha cha, across the classroom floor. There were so many oh’s and ah’s from the dance that Graeme snapped back out of the zone, looking towards his teacher and then towards Nana, not needing to hear that he had done a good job. All the kids clapped a long round of applause and then Nana asked Graeme if he wanted her to sign him out early, or if he wanted to go home on the bus. “I think I’ll go home on the bus Nana.”

And he stepped onto the bus confidently, the star of the day, each and everyone of his classmates, even Johnny, asking questions on the bus about Booker. “That was so cool.” And, “I wish I had a dog.” And, “How did you teach him all those tricks?” And more. Long after that day, eventually Nana did start sleeping at her house again, but without Booker. Booker had found his way into a little boys heart, and down at the foot of his bed each night as they both slept peacefully. It wouldn’t be fair to say Graeme forgot about the love of his mother, but when lost, love has a way of finding us again. In Graeme’s case, it was found behind the apricot fur, gifted by Nana in more ways than one.