Here is another story in the life and times of Daniel Lucio. It is a sad, but true story. Better get a kleenex. I had been on my computer way too long the night before today. I
guess that would make it yesternight. I was playing SUBMARINE CAPTAIN: HERO
of THE WAR. That would be the second war-to-end-all-wars. Past the hum of
the digitized diesel engine of the Gato class submarine, I heard the faint
whine of my dog Max. I got up and put the game on pause(a luxury most
submarine commanders do not have), and walked to find Max lying on the
linoleum floor of our house's doorway. He looked his usual lethargic self,
but I decided to play with him a while.
Back in the days, playing with Max used to be the throwing of the
frisbee or even the playing of softball(he would have made all-star
Outfielder had it not been for his terrible arm and poor batting average).
He would also swim in the lakes. Any body of water was this golden
retriever's bath. But last night the playing consisted of simple petting
and
rubbing. It is a far cry from the Max of old, but nonetheless I knew he
enjoyed the attention.
So while petting him I became alarmed. You see, after petting a dog
for fourteen years you get to know their "G- Spots". The spots where even
the slightest pressure or rubbing would cause Max to either shake his leg or
give a low hum of pleasure. Max's spots were right behind the ears and on
his belly. My concern started to rise when, after hitting Max's spots,
nothing would happen. He would look at me with those super huge murky eyes
and show me no sign of happiness. I tried to feed him a piece of dried dog
food, but he wouldn't even try to eat it. I tried again only this time with
a piece of bread and he tried to eat it, but could not swallow the food. I
sat him up, and told him very matter-of-factly,"Max, you really need to eat
this dear." And only then did he comply. Pleased at having him eat
something, I figured everything would be ok and went back to tearing up the
Japanese Fleet.
Dad came in soon afterward saying two things,"Go to bed," and "We're
taking Max to the Vet tomorrow, and we might have to put him to sleep. I
figured you should know." Dad always seemed to be a bit of an alarmist, and
I told him that it would probably not be necessary(still high on my recent
success of getting him to eat a piece of bread). So I discounted the entire
notion, believeing the Vet would just say," he's got another year or two to
go." There was no cause for any concern, so I went back to my game thinking
to myself,"I HAVE to study for my Finals."
After being Depth charged by an over-zealous Destroyer, I put the
game
up and looked at my mint condition economics book(hardly been touched). I
opened it and it just closed back again. I opened it to chapter fourteen
and
began to read. Three sentences later, I convinced myself that it was indeed
time to sleep. But before doing so I, for some reason,
took a shower. My best guess is that I wanted to get the Red Lobster smell
out of my body. After the shower I went to bed and was quick to sleep.
And
Max whimpered in the night.
My Dad woke me up telling me to help him load Max in the car. It
was
time to see the vet. I informed him of the fact that I have finals coming
up
and should not be trifled with such trivial matters. He insisted. The
dialogue was as follows.
Dad: Danny get up(with an emphasis on up).
Danny:[umph]
Dad:Danny we got to take Max to the Vet, help me get him in the car.
Danny:I got finals Dad...I need to rest...5 minutes(its strange how much
people think five minutes of pleasure will fulfill their desires).
Dad:Danny, we need to go, we have an appointment at 9:30.
Danny:No dad, five minutes. Max is fine anyway.
Dad:Danny, now.
Danny: oh all right! geez!
I grabbed some shorts and a shirt and went to the backyard. Dad had
fashioned a stretcher out of a cardboard box and couldn't lift Max alone.
Max
was awake and just looking around. So I got on one end of the box and he
got
on another. We hoisted him up and took him to the truck(even though the
truck's tags had expired the car was just too small). He was heavy. We
managed to lift him on the bed of the truck and I couldn't help but think of
the days he could jump in the truck over the side (tailgate closed). He
even
jumped a 6 foot privacy fence a time or two. The truck was full of junk so
we
couldn't close the tailgate. I rode in the back with Max. I didn't want
him
to fall out.
We were driving down the road and I noticed the wind blowing in my
severely screwed up hair(maybe that shower last night was not such a good
idea). I looked around at the moving landscape and petted my dog.
We walked in the empty clinic with Max in his stretcher and me with
my screwed up hair. We laid him down on the cold metallic table and waited
for the doctor to come. I began to suspect the secretaries thinking that I
was retarded because of my hair and my inability to "match". After he came
and began his examination, I began to get the eerie feeling that my implicit
ideas were all wrong. It was Dad that first talked of putting him to sleep.
And from then on out, all the Doctor could say was stuff about Quality of
Life mixed in with a few lessons on how God views creatures, and I looked on
the wall for a degree in theology. He kept mentioning the humane side to
"putting him down". And then he left my Dad and me alone for us to decide.
It was then that my sleepy eyes became teary. It was then that the reality
of losing my friend Max was so real. It was then that I could do nothing
but
sit, watch, and cry. The vet came back in(probably a bit too soon).
Although
my father and I never spoke a word in the time we were alone, we both knew
the decision that was made.
My father told him that we should go, and that I had to go to
school. The vet was talking about the place where they bury the dogs and
how
pretty it is there. He was also telling of us of the possibility of buying
a
marker or seperate grave site. We could even have a small service. All the
time I was sitting in the corner with my wild hair crying the silent tears.
I reminded myself that I had a prior commitment and could not stay for the
deed to be done. I could not have stayed, but I should have. And as they
were ushering us out and getting Dad to fill out a Euthanasia form, I said
inbetween tears to the secretary who was standing over my Max,"I need five
minutes." And this time I got my five minutes.
In my last five minutes with my dog Max, I petted my dog. In my
last five minutes with my dog Max, I spent all the wishes I had saved up
over
the years on his health. I went to the sink in the room, filled my hands
with water, and he drank from them. I put my head on his and he licked my
tears away for the last time. And when I left the room the last I saw of
Max
he put his raised head on the table. I walked straight to the truck and
rode
this time in the front seat.
As we drove away from the clinic, I couldn't help but think,"we
forgot Max." But as I am sure you all know by now, I could never forget
Max.
The kindest, gentlest, most laid back dog I have ever known.