The last walk

A boy and his dog say goodbye

Words 1459


Dorothy watched the vet’s deft fingers move up and around Benjie’s black, furry body. The only sound in the room was the tick-tick of the clock on the surgery wall. The stethoscope pressed—the vet listened—Dorothy prayed.

At last his eyes met her blue, anxious ones, it was said without him needing to speak at first and then in the words which stabbed her in the heart.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Cooper.”

“Is there anything…?”

“It’s his heart, as we already knew. It’s becoming tired and there’s not a lot more we can do. Just keep him quiet, not too much excitement, no long walks.” The vet attempted to reassure. “He’s not in pain.”

“Sam, my son, will be devastated, he can’t remember life without Benjie.”

“It’s the price we pay for loving a dog, I’m afraid.”

*

“Mum!”

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” At the sound of her son’s frantic voice, Dorothy came outside, onto the deck, releasing the fly screen door to slam shut behind her. Sam, recently arrived home from school, appeared hot and sweaty, his dark blonde hair stuck to his forehead after the walk home from the bus stop in the heat.

She found him crouched next to his dog who lay gasping for air in the shade of the lemon tree.

“Look at him, he’s breathless. He’s getting worse. He won’t even fetch the ball—see?”

Sam had thrown the ball a little way from where Benjie lay.

She saw the worried look on her son’s face. “It’s such a hot day, he might be better tomorrow.” Dorothy sat on the porch steps. “Come, sit here.” The boy sat next to his mother and laid his head on her shoulder. She felt the wetness of his silent tears on her blouse.

“He used to run so fast. Can you remember?”

His mother nodded, thinking of the day when she’d brought the puppy home a few months after the accident which killed Sam’s father. Her little boy had only been two years old when their worlds changed forever.

“He was a very naughty puppy.” Dorothy remembered her best work shoes he’d ruined. “Obsessed with your little socks. I think he even ate a few!” Dorothy smiled, “But he’s been a wonderful friend to both of us for ten years.”

“I don’t want him to die, Mum.”

“Neither do I, Sweetheart, but while he’s still with us we must make the most of the time he has left.”

“How long, Mum?”

“We’ll know when he’s ready. He’ll tell us.” They stood to go inside.

“Come on Benjie. Dinner time.”

At the sound of his name the old black dog, lifted his head, his tail thumped on the grass. Slowly he struggled to his feet.

“You’re still fond of your food, aren’t you old boy?” Dorothy ruffled the soft black fur as he slowly made his way to the kitchen.

At last, summer released her grip on much of the state, the long hot days and nights lost their bite and the drought broke, bringing life-giving rain. The Australian bush breathed again, releasing its fresh, slightly medicinal, tang of eucalyptus and lemon.

The cooler weather allowed Benjie to go for a few short walks in the bush with Sam, who remembered how it used to be when they’d walk for hours just the two of them.

However much they wanted it to be a cure, the medication from the vet started to lose its potency. Benjie’s soft brown eyes would close with exhaustion and he’d sleep for most of the day, seemingly content to listen to the goings on of his family around him.

*

One Sunday afternoon Sam sat completing his homework for the following day, but was also thinking how much he missed the long bush walks with his dog on days like these. Then he saw Benjie struggling to sit up from where he’d been lying on the deck. his nose raised as he sniffed the air.

“Smell something old boy? Kangaroos?”

His ears pricked. The marsupials were close by. He’d heard the thump thump as a mob of the creatures scattered. Perhaps something had spooked them.

Their house backed on to the bush and had been Benjie and Sam’s playground for years. Dorothy never had cause to worry, knowing her dog knew every track and trail and would always look after her boy and bring him home.

*

Spring in the West Australian bush is the most wonderful time of the year. Carpets of wildflowers, not found anywhere else on the planet, burst into life. Dorothy, an amateur photographer, loved nothing more than to take a picnic, her son and Benjie out for the day, searching for and taking photos of wild flowers. If she was lucky enough she’d find an elusive tiny Donkey Orchid. Whilst she was busy searching, Sam and Benjie would go exploring, finding their own secret places.

*

Dorothy looked out of the kitchen window when she heard the boy talking to his dog who’d hardly left the property for weeks. Dorothy felt his time was almost at an end.

The recent shower had lasted just a few minutes but she knew the sun would now be filtering through the Red Gums and the Malli and the trees and shrubs would be sparkling with rain drops. Perfect for taking some photographs.

She went out on to the deck and asked, “Walk anyone?” Benjie’s tail thumped on the wooden boards.

Sam looked quizzically at his mother. “He can’t. Can he?” he asked.

“Go fetch his lead, Sam. One last walk?”

As they set off, Sam could sense Benjie’s excitement. Dorothy had been right, the bush did feel alive after the rain. She squinted her eyes against the brightness of the sun-reflecting rain drops shimmering on every blade of grass and leaf.

Benjie's pace slowed from his initial excitement of being in his favourite environment after so long of being cooped up.

“Is he alright, Mum, should we go back?”

“I think this is where he’d rather be, don’t you?”

Suddenly, Benjie stopped. He sat, nose lifted, his eyes focused on a branch high up in the tree tops.

“There’s a possum up there, isn’t there?” Sam bent and hugged him. ‘Good boy, you spotted it. You’ve missed this so much haven’t you?”

Sam smiled at his mother. “He’s happy, Mum.”

They continued, but the going was getting harder for the dog. He began to limp, but seemed determined to keep moving forward.

“I think I know where he wants to go, Mum.”

“How far is it? Do you think he can make it?“

“It’s up there over that rise. I once made a den there. That’s where he caught the rabbit we brought home.”

Dorothy nodded, “Then let’s get him there, shall we?“

After another couple of hundred yards, Benjie lay down on the track. He was panting and despite the coaxing he refused to move.

Mother and son’s eyes met and without needing to say anything they knew this was what they’d been dreading— for Benjie to tell them he was done.

With difficulty, Dorothy picked him up and went over to one of the large rocks which lined the track and sat. She held him, speaking reassuringly. His soft brown eyes looked up at her. He seemed to know everything she was saying when she told him what a great friend he’d been, how he’d rescued her and Sammy when they’d needed him and much he was loved.

“We’re almost there. Let me take him.”

Dorothy passed Benjie into her son’s outstretched arms. She knew he was too heavy for the boy but realised the importance of this moment. She let them both go ahead, following slowly .

Sam struggled up the rise until they reached a circle of Wandoo trees, colourful wild flowers carpeted the ground. In the centre of the circle was the den he’d once constructed with rocks and woven branches. He laid his friend down inside on the leaf litter, dropping beside him. Sam felt his mother’s presence behind him as he rubbed his face on the soft fur, he whispered, “It’s alright, you can sleep now.”

Dorothy reached into her backpack and knelt on the soft leaf mulch, and placed his favourite toy next to his greying muzzle.

They sat together and waited for more than an hour as Benjie’s breathing slowed, softer and deeper, until at last it stopped.

After covering him with branches, with heavy hearts, they began the walk home.

It had been a difficult journey, but in the quiet bushland beneath the Wandoo trees, they had found a beautiful goodbye.

Written for Quotation Inspiration
Prompt: Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.