THE CHOICES

My father was a workaholic. Six days a week he left for work at 7:30. Usually I was asleep before he got home so we had little time together. He would be up and dressed before I got out of bed, but when I rushed, I walked with him and Bingo, our big, strong, happy, blond Golden Retriever. Bingo romped in front of us, did his business and came back, always worming his way between Dad and me. Dad threw a stick and Bingo brought it back to him. I threw it and Bingo gave it to me. He never gave my stick to Dad or Dad’s to me. We Three Musketeers went out in the rain, in the snow in the heat of summer. It was our time together.

Sundays were special. As a family we shared a big, tasty breakfast. Dad and Mom sat in the living room reading the paper while I impatiently finished my homework, ready for our walk in the park. Bingo always sat in the back of the car with me. I would smooth Bingo’s fur, almost rubbing a bare spot. He rewarded me by slobbering his big tongue all over my face. If the weather was bad or Mom was preparing for afternoon company she stayed home. I liked when there were the 4 of us but loved when just I and Bingo were alone.

Saturday, Sept 4th, Dad noticed Bingo was limping slightly. He examined his paw, saw no cut, no pebble. Each day the limp worsened. A week was more than enough so Dad took him (and me) to the vet’s. We had to leave him there for tests. Mom didn’t tell me she spoke to the vet on Monday. How surprised I was when Dad came home early. ‘Hi, Dad. Are you okay? Did your office burn down?’ ‘I’m fine son. I just needed to get away for a while.’ After Mom had cleared the dinner table, we went to the living room to read, watch t.v. Oddly, Mom and Dad sat on the sofa together. I sat on the floor with Bingo. Dad gave me a strange look and then he told me the vet said Bingo had cancer. Mom burst out crying. Dad had to stop talking. Bingo felt something was wrong, went to each one, put his head on our laps, went into a corner and curled up for sleep. Dad tried to ease my pain.‘The vet said he will have to amputate Bingo’s rear left leg but animals are wonderful. They learn to adjust quickly. He’ll be okay in a week.’ He also thinks surgery will save Bingo’s life as it looks like the cancer was caught early.

Bingo followed me upstairs, slept in my bed for the first time. I wanted him to sleep on my face, smother me, let me die. I wanted to die. I didn’t want morning to come. Dad, Bingo and I went for our morning walk. Dad sent me inside and put Bingo in the car. Mom came out, put her arm around me and held me close.

She and I went to see Bingo every day after school. It broke my heart to see him try to stand. By Saturday he managed to balance himself and Monday when we took him home he got up the three front steps by himself. Our old routine began again except we didn’t throw the sticks as far.

I said nothing to Dad. He said nothing to me but surely by spring, Bingo was slowing down. ‘Hey, Billy, we are going to the vet’s for a check-up Saturday. Want to go?’ The Musketeers went, faking our nonchalance. Our fears became reality. The cancer had spread. The vet gave us choices–wait and let your pet suffer, amputate the other leg, put Bingo down. Those were choices? How could we choose? We couldn’t ask Bingo for advice. Heart wrenching, tearful talks, imagining him with two legs and no surety that he was safe, was impossible. Mom and Dad finally decided to let him go. I didn’t agree but knew they were right.

Dad made arrangements with the vet for the following Sunday. It was otherwise a lovely warm spring day. Dad had allowed me to stay home from school all week to share it with one of the three Musketeers. Silence filled our house as we waited for the vet. Mom had placed 3 chairs next to each other in the garden. Bingo lay down at our feet. The vet snapped that last photo for us. Bingo got up, yawned and limped to me, put his beautiful head on my lap. The vet came close, a kerchief over his right hand., patted Bingo with his left, and then injected a long needle into Bingo’s rump. No yip, no noise from him. His eyes quickly closed and I saw his soul fly upward to Doggie Heaven.

I reached for his tail but he was gone too fast.