EvilCat Breath
Diamond Member
- Sep 23, 2016
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It was my first Christmas with the law office closed and the pet grooming salon open. I was alone, 9pm, Christmas Eve cleaning up the last of the fur, putting the last wet towels into the laundry. The door was locked. There was a banging on the door. "Please open. Please. You're my last chance." It was a young man carrying a limp black Labrador retriever. He was almost crying. "Please. My dog is dying."
"You need a veterinarian. I can't help you." I did not want to open the door," even if I did not believe that this young man carrying a dying dog meant me harm.
"My dog is dying, I want to give her one last joy. Please help us." The man spoke with a thick Irish brogue. I would help the dog who looked like every breath could be her last. I opened the door, against my better judgment. It was Christmas Eve, after all.
"This is Tara. I've had her since she was a puppy. She has always liked to water and loved to swim. If she could just be in the water one last time. I believe she would die happy. One last time."
I shook my head sadly. All I have is the bathtub."
"It will do." He carried Tara into the back and laid her gently into the big bathtub. I could not fill the tub, but I could run the warm water over her. I turned on the gentle stream and allowed it to run over Tara's weak body. Her eyes closed.
The man told me about Tara as a young dog. She loved to swim and the two went swimming and fishing in lakes all over Ireland. Tara could even fish. She would dive down and come up with a fat wiggling fish in her mouth. She loved the water.
As I played the spray over her, Tara began weakly moving her paws. As if she was swimming. In her dying mind, she was back in Ireland swimming and fishing in the lakes and running in the hills. She was a puppy again secure in the love of her person. Tara came to the United States with her companion. The two of them fished and swam in the ocean and in the lakes. Then Tara started showing some age. She no longer went into deep water but stayed close to shore and closer to the boat. She wore a life vest. She still enjoyed her outings and still enjoyed her swims.
I began drying her off, rubbing her down with dry towels. Getting her a dry as possible. I did not want to put her under a drying. She could not move her head, but she ran her tongue out, looking for something to kiss. I bent to kiss her nose and got a slurp on my own. Tara is a good girl.
The young man picked her up and carried her to the front counter. He laid her carefully on the floor and turned. "How much do I owe you.?"
I could not accept any payment. "It is Christmas Eve, I have done a small service for a dying dog. I cannot accept payment. I just can't. God would never forgive me. Think of it as my present to Tara."
"No. I must pay. No one else would open for us." He put $50.00 on the counter and turned to pick Tara up. She was gone. Her head lay to the side pink tongue lolling from her mouth. The man burst into heart breaking sobs. "My girl. My everything."
I opened the door for him to carry Tara to the car and put the money in his pocket. I could not, would not take money for caring for the dog.
After Christmas when I opened the salon I found an envelope with $50.00 in it. I took it envelope an all and donated it to Four Paws Rescue in the name of Tara.
Another year and another Christmas Eve. It was busy as all holidays are. I heard a familiar voice with a thick Irish brogue. "This is Riley. He's learning how to surf." I was the same man with a big pit bull. Riley did like his bath. He liked scrubbing the salt out of his short fur. He was quite generoous with his kisses too. I took him back to his owner who gave me a $50.00 bill. "I got him at Four Paws Rescue. I'm lucky he's such a surfer."
"You need a veterinarian. I can't help you." I did not want to open the door," even if I did not believe that this young man carrying a dying dog meant me harm.
"My dog is dying, I want to give her one last joy. Please help us." The man spoke with a thick Irish brogue. I would help the dog who looked like every breath could be her last. I opened the door, against my better judgment. It was Christmas Eve, after all.
"This is Tara. I've had her since she was a puppy. She has always liked to water and loved to swim. If she could just be in the water one last time. I believe she would die happy. One last time."
I shook my head sadly. All I have is the bathtub."
"It will do." He carried Tara into the back and laid her gently into the big bathtub. I could not fill the tub, but I could run the warm water over her. I turned on the gentle stream and allowed it to run over Tara's weak body. Her eyes closed.
The man told me about Tara as a young dog. She loved to swim and the two went swimming and fishing in lakes all over Ireland. Tara could even fish. She would dive down and come up with a fat wiggling fish in her mouth. She loved the water.
As I played the spray over her, Tara began weakly moving her paws. As if she was swimming. In her dying mind, she was back in Ireland swimming and fishing in the lakes and running in the hills. She was a puppy again secure in the love of her person. Tara came to the United States with her companion. The two of them fished and swam in the ocean and in the lakes. Then Tara started showing some age. She no longer went into deep water but stayed close to shore and closer to the boat. She wore a life vest. She still enjoyed her outings and still enjoyed her swims.
I began drying her off, rubbing her down with dry towels. Getting her a dry as possible. I did not want to put her under a drying. She could not move her head, but she ran her tongue out, looking for something to kiss. I bent to kiss her nose and got a slurp on my own. Tara is a good girl.
The young man picked her up and carried her to the front counter. He laid her carefully on the floor and turned. "How much do I owe you.?"
I could not accept any payment. "It is Christmas Eve, I have done a small service for a dying dog. I cannot accept payment. I just can't. God would never forgive me. Think of it as my present to Tara."
"No. I must pay. No one else would open for us." He put $50.00 on the counter and turned to pick Tara up. She was gone. Her head lay to the side pink tongue lolling from her mouth. The man burst into heart breaking sobs. "My girl. My everything."
I opened the door for him to carry Tara to the car and put the money in his pocket. I could not, would not take money for caring for the dog.
After Christmas when I opened the salon I found an envelope with $50.00 in it. I took it envelope an all and donated it to Four Paws Rescue in the name of Tara.
Another year and another Christmas Eve. It was busy as all holidays are. I heard a familiar voice with a thick Irish brogue. "This is Riley. He's learning how to surf." I was the same man with a big pit bull. Riley did like his bath. He liked scrubbing the salt out of his short fur. He was quite generoous with his kisses too. I took him back to his owner who gave me a $50.00 bill. "I got him at Four Paws Rescue. I'm lucky he's such a surfer."
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