His Best Friend

My job isn’t the best.

People wonder how I take it all in, manage to keep my lunch down, come home, have dinner, go to bed and do it all again the next day. Frankly, apart from the occasional blues, I don’t get overwhelmingly upset by the things I see at work, as I always try and focus on the good that comes of it. That more or less solves it for me.

Though there was this one day.

My memory of that day will remain etched into my brain for as long as I live.

After double-checking the address, I parked outside and got my gear ready.

Medical bag. Papers. A stethoscope slung over the neck.

I was received at the door by the gray face of a woman in her late 30′s.

“She’s sleeping over there.”

On the sofa lay a dog half-buried in cushions and sheets. Her snout poked out from under the covers, quivering as she fought for air. The disturbed rise and fall of her chest made it hard to look.

I set my things aside and began to pet her soft coat. Awakened by the touch, the dog looked up at me with wretched eyes that stung and plead to be shut once opened.

I could see she wasn’t ready to go; her soul wasn’t, at least.

She had lost sense of how it felt to be alive - fetch in the park, feeling the breeze through a car window, falling asleep in the lap of a loved one - but she hadn’t forgotten.

She longed to go back, to live a life free of suffering, but her body denied her the privilege. Some would call it a fate worse than death.

A terrible thought, yes, but this was all customary.

It’s what I stomached every day. I was doing them a favor.

A bundle of signed papers was placed onto the coffee table next to me.

“Would you prefer to hold her?” I asked.

“I’ll stay right here,” the woman sighed, sitting on the floor and resting her head on a pillow to face her.

I unpacked my things and laid them out on the table. This was the part where I had to explain to the client what to expect. A supportive, open tone and uncomplicated words were key here.

“First I’ll be giving her something to make her fall asleep, which will take about ten minutes to take full effect.”

I never liked watching people start to tear up, so I kept my eyes on the dog.

“Then I’ll just be here, you’ll have as much time as you need with her. And whenever you’re ready, I can...”

My voice trailed off as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

A tiny boy no older than seven pranced over.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked softly, clearly distressed. “I thought we agreed you’d come down when I called you for lunch.”

Wide-eyed and distracted, the boy made no response. He had been staring at me ever since he arrived.

“Hi, mister.”

“Hello, boy. Your mother and I-”

“This gentleman is here to help me out with some things. In the meantime, you-”

“Are you a doctor?” he gasped.

I looked down at my stethoscope, which was dangling just above his eye level.

“Look, kid-”

“You’re here to help Daisy, aren’t you?” he exclaimed.

Completely heartbroken from the task at hand, his poor mother could do nothing but watch her son, speechless.

“Daisy’s my best friend!” He nuzzled the dog’s cheeks. “We’d do everything together and have the most fun you could possibly have... But then one day she got all slow and sick and- I don’t know. She seems like she can’t do any fun stuff with me anymore. Now I get sort of lonely.”

Daisy let out a grunt, followed by a huff of clammy breath.

It was my turn to be speechless.

“Look, mom!” He poked at the bottles I laid out. “The man’s got all these- these potions for helping Daisy! She’ll be like her old self again!”

Mortified, his mother gave me a hopeless look that pleaded for my forgiveness.

“You’ll help her... right, mister?”

I spent every ounce of my willpower to avoid his gaping eyes. I knew that what he asked, I couldn’t give. Even if I wanted to. Yes, I was helping the dog, but not in a way he was old enough to appreciate. It would, in fact, be a loss to the boy, a loss of something irreplaceable in his life.

I never asked for this.

It was as if time had stopped, and I was being torn down the middle, and everything I once thought to be of value in life fell short at the feet of this boy and his dog.

My eyes stung.

“I’ll- I’ll try my best to help her,” I said, struggling to remember how to speak.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Thanks, mister!”

The boy ran in and hugged my knees tight.

Pulling herself together, his mother got up to her feet, mouthing me an “I’m sorry,” to which I replied with an assuring nod. A nod was all I could muster.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked back down at the boy, whose smile I could hear in his voice.

“She’ll be happy, I promise.”