CALVIN, THERE'S NOT MUCH TIME

Dear Calvin Th'Airedale,

There’s not much time, I think.

I’m over at the PeeNews Wall on Dufferin Street for posting breaking stories.  I don’t know if your 2Legs still brings you here on walks; I haven’t smelled your posts for a long time.

Everything’s a mess…a mess.

Sage left me awhile ago after she caught me sniffing that wiener dog.  I swear that I was confused and was just trying to figure out which end was which.  

But she left anyway and is travelling all over the place as a high-flying show dog.  Once I thought I saw her in a box in the house; she was in one of those boxes that shine light and have pictures and sound.  I jumped up to kiss her, but she was gone and I couldn’t even smell her.  It was depressing.

At that point I started to think about my life.

I have always done what I wanted.  I never hesitated on being obnoxious to anyone.  I chewed up whatever I wanted, peed on anything that suited me.

But without Sage, life is empty.  Dogs walk by along the river, cats come up to the window.  I don’t care.  I just curl up on the floor.

And then something else happened.

My 2Legs OldMan isn’t here anymore.

He stopped taking me to the dog park, not that I cared anymore.  The walks we went on got slower and slower and finally stopped. 

Then other people started coming into the house.  OldMan stayed in bed most of the time.  They fed him.  They fed me and let me in and out.  No one rubbed my ears and made me groan, no one hugged me and sang me songs…no one played with me.

And then they took OldMan away one day.  He was not moving.

There is a pain I feel that I can’t begin to describe.  It is everything, it is everything.

I wish he would come back.  I miss rubbing up against him, moving through his legs and wagging my tail, looking up at him and laughing.  I miss biting his butt when he left the house.  I miss wrassling with him.  I miss kissing his hand, kissing his face.  Miss rolling around in his bed and cuddling with him.  He wasn’t so bad, that 2Legs OldMan.

I realize that though I gave him grief so much of the time, I love him and need him.  But he hasn’t come back for a lot of lights and darks.

So I made up my mind:  I would find him.  If he won’t come back to me, I will go to him and be with him wherever he goes.

Today a stranger came into the house and took me by my collar.  When we got to the door, I broke free and ran to look for OldMan.

I have been looking all day in 2Legs yards and on different streets.  I’m exhausted and don’t know where to go.

So I’m here and leaving you this note.

A truck just pulled up and stopped.  I’m too tired to bark.  A 2Legs just got out with a stick.  The truck has the letters SPCA on it.  He is coming closer.  The stick has a string or something on it, like a loop.

He puts it over my head and starts to pull.  He pulls me over to the truck, though I don’t want to go with him.  He opens the back of the truck.

Maybe he will take me to OldMan.

He pulls me into the back of the truck.

The truck is dark…

Arthur TheBad Airedale