Not Ready for the Rainbow Bridge

San Diego, 14 years ago

FIRST NIGHT
“He’s a dog. Therefore he will sleep in his dog bed.”
I point to a folded towel on the floor.
David laughs as he dives onto the futon. “You call that a ‘bed’?”
“Well, yeah,” I say. It did look a little sad. I picked up the little pooch and just as I began to lower him onto his terry cloth mattress he nuzzled his nose into my chest.
David chuckled into his pillow. “Yeah, this is gonna last.”
“Now, now, little puppy,” I say. “Here’s your bed. Sweet dreams.” I set him down and crawled into bed.
“Eeeemeee-mew-eemeeee-“
I peer down and, in the moonlight, is the little guy, peering up at me.
“Meeemeeee, eeee, neeeee.”
To hell with it.
I scoop him up and he scampers all over us, mountains o’ blanket fun.
“Gee, that lasted long,” David says. “C’mere, buddy.”
“No, let him sleep near me!”
*

“Love is patient and kind….”
Woody was all those things to me. But, I see it now: I could be those things with Woody, too. Amazing.
Most people think they are kind enough, but there’s fake kindness (giving when and what you want to give) and then there’s real kindness. That’s the really patient stuff: the gentle stream of encouragement you give when every part of you wants to plop down and throw a screaming tantrum. When all of you is screaming, “NNNOOOO!”
Someone once said, ‘When you look into the eyes of a child, you see the world.’ Well, when you look into the eyes of your dog, you see Love. And patience. And Kindness: the real stuff.
Woody taught me all that. He made me all that.
Doesn’t that make him an angel?

LAST NIGHT
Delray Beach, FL
Present Day
*
The moon is just about full tonight.
That last night with Woody, I laid on the cool tile floor of the living room next to him, and together we stared at the moon through the sliding glass doors, painfully clean. The view of the moon was crystal clear and huge like all the possibility of Death.
This is the same moon we looked at clear across the country in San Diego where we all started. I cannot believe that, after all these years, all these days and nights together, that it is this moon that will be the last one we look at together. I can’t stop thinking of that word all the celebs use when they win an award: surreal. Stupid word. With only a few minutes or hours left together – who knows? – every second counts. This is about as real as it gets.
I know this is selfish on my part. I want my little one; I want his doggy smell and baby fine fur; I want to walk past this room every day and see his little white head pop up in surprise. Today he cries if I try to leave the room to go to the bathroom, or take a shower. I will sleep here on the ceramic tile floor next to him, only a jute rug and his green blanket separating our bones from the hard, hard floor underneath. Every half hour or so I will feed him medicine and water through an eyedropper from the vet. At least as long as he can still swallow.
I whisper to Woody all night long through tears, about how great Heaven is going to be, about all the Pupperoni treats he’ll have there, about the people there we know that are waiting for him and will care for him ‘til the day we can live there together, again.
David is in the garage. He can’t speak without exploding into tears, the way men who never cry, do.

***

14 Years Ago – San Diego CA
SECOND NIGHT
We are in the living room watching an old re-run of Cheers when David yells out, “Woody!”
The puppy is racing around the couch at lightning speed. He has a subscription card from a magazine in his teeth, but he’s so small that he keeps stepping on the card. He is doing this all so fast that it sounds like a playing card stuck in a fan.
“Woody. Yes! What a perfect name! Like the original surfboards! Like Woody Harrelson! Like-“
“Wood!” David says.
“Yeah.”
“ ‘Woody!’ Hello, Woody. Do you like your new name?”

*
I finally dozed off as the sun came up and was shocked to find him still alive and breathing. When he tried to lift his head he choked and anyone could see how weak he was from the effort. The water from the eyedropper just dribbles from his thin black lips, and I began to cry.
****