Helium Heart
Dan Absalonson
Helium Heart
by
Dan Absalonson
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Helium Heart
Copyright © 2013 by Dan Absalonson
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
* * * * *
Dedicated to my childhood dog Saggy, who's death I didn't mourn until I wrote this story because he died within the same couple months as my grandpas.
* * * * *
Helium Heart
* * * * *
I flipped through old pictures of us together before we left, trying not to think about them being the only way I could see him after that day. My mom made the album for me that year for my birthday. I told myself I wouldn't cry but I couldn't help it when I saw the one of me dressed as a cowboy for Halloween riding on his back. The picture looked how I felt that day, mostly brown, gray, and gloomy with dashes of red rage at what was about to happen. The brown carpet my mom called the stain hider took up the background of the image. The gray plastic gun in my little hand, blurred because I was waving it around. The red cap on the end of the barrel drew a bright rainbow across the photograph devoid of all its other colors. The faded red bandana hanging around his neck with patterns of thin white lines reaching across it. This picture made me lose it. Even then with his blind eyes and limping gait he could sense I was upset. He hobbled over to me and rested his chin on my knee. We sat there for a while, the last time together in our home.
Dad had to help me lift him into the back of the car. I could remember when he used to jump in as soon as the door was open. His tail would wag, his head darting around to look out the windows, excited to go with us in the car. That day he just laid there. His tail like a scarf thrown to the ground, motionless. Lifeless. He didn’t look out the windows. He didn’t sit up and stick his nose against the back of my head or lick my ear. I used to hate it when he did that. The unexpected wet willy from his noisy tongue. Now I wished he would do it, just one more time, but he didn’t have the strength.
The car ride was much too short. Maybe it went by so fast because I spent the whole time like my friend, not looking out the windows. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the familiar sign in the distance and have to count down the blocks until the end. I could feel it though. The familiar bump and steep grade of the parking lot entrance. The one I had felt the first time we knew something was wrong. The one I felt every time we took my friend in to see if they could tell us what was wrong with him. They had helped him but now there was nothing more they could do. I suddenly hated the place. I hated the dip going into the parking lot, I hated the sign that I once thought looked so cool, and I hated that I had to open the door now and face what was going to happen next. I thought about reaching up and locking the doors once my parents got out, but I just sat there holding back the tears. I looked over at my friend, laying on the gray seat as still as my old teddy bear on my bed. I knew he was suffering. I didn’t want him to be in pain, but I wondered if the pain that would come to me when he was gone would be more than the pain he was in now. It was a selfish thought, but I was young and still clutching denial as hard as I could. If I got out of the car it was happening. If I stayed in, we were just going somewhere like always. My dad did what I couldn’t and opened the door for me. That’s when I lost it again.
My vision blurred as I stepped out and waited for Dad to lift my friend to the ground. I stopped before stepping up the curb. My friend came over to me and stood with his side against my leg. I couldn’t hold it in. I fell to my knees and hugged him. My friend. The one who was always at the foot of my bed at night, and there when I woke up. I would have to sleep alone that night.
My parents just let me cry and hold him for a while. Then I stood and wiped my tears away and we went inside. It took them forever to come out and get us. Mom did the paperwork, dad sat next to me patting my knee every once in awhile. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. I think he was angry because he couldn’t fix this problem for me. Rusty lay at my feet. When the veterinarian came I didn’t see the smile I was used to seeing on his face. He walked over to me and bent down, looking into my eyes.
“We’re going to take good care of old Rusty buddy. He won’t feel any pain. It will just be like he’s taking a nap. Okay?”
“You promise you won’t hurt him?” I said.
“I promise.”
He stood and lead the way. My parents followed. I sat there and savored just a few more seconds with my friend. Then I stood up.
The exam room was bright, and all the pamphlets on the wall showed happy people with happy dogs. I was jealous of them all. I wished they weren’t all so happy. I bent down and gave Rusty one last hug and kiss. I liked kissing him on the bridge of his nose because it was soft. When I stood the vet lifted Rusty onto the tall table in the middle of the room. He laid his head down.
“Good bye Rusty,” I said through tear soaked lips. I remember the salty taste, and how the room smelled like dog treats.
The phone kept ringing in the office nearby. Didn't these people know I was trying to say goodbye to my friend in peace? I wanted it to be quiet so I could focus on my last moments with my friend. I wanted the world to stop. I wanted time to stop.
The doctor did something to Rusty’s back leg. I didn’t want to see. I just kept scratching him behind the ears and under the chin how he liked it. His tail, the one that had knocked over and broken mom's white and blue spiraled vase, stopped wagging. His tongue, which had woken me up for school so many times lay limp on the table, an unnatural purple. His eyes, which had followed my hand wherever it went when I held a doggie treat or his ball, had stopped blinking. My eyes started leaking sloppy wet tears onto his fluffy long ears. The ones that looked like airplane wings when he stuck his head out of the window in Dad's truck.
I gave him one last long hug and went back to the car with mom. Pretty soon Dad came out. He got in, pulled on his seat belt, and started the car.
“Is there anything special you want to do buddy?”
“We could go to the pet store and you could pick out a puppy sweetie. Would you like that?”
I was still crying pretty hard so it took me awhile to calm myself enough to reply.
“No thanks mom, but can we go somewhere? I’m not ready to go home without him yet.”
“Sure son,” Dad said.
“What about that place you guys always liked to go for long walks?” asked Mom.
“Oh yeah, the one with all the cool cannons?”
Dad sounded hopeful, like he could finally do something to help fix the situation even in some small way. I just listened.
“Yes, the place with the cannons. Would you like to maybe go for a long walk there? We could get ice cream after too.”
Then I had a strange idea. Since we couldn’t bury my friend, maybe I could at least leave some kind of marker somewhere for remembering Rusty.
“Can we stop somewhere and get a balloon? Rusty loved balloons. Maybe I could tie one to a cannon, you know, for him.”
“That sounds like a great idea son,” Dad said.
My mom didn’t say anything. She was crying too. It was because she was sad for me, and proud of me, not so much because Rusty was gone. She told me so later.
I picked out a red balloon shaped
like a heart. I didn’t pick it out for the color. I couldn’t have guessed Rusty’s favorite color because he couldn’t tell me and I’m pretty sure he was color blind. I picked it out for what it symbolized, love. I really loved Rusty, and he loved me too. He was a good friend. I miss him.
We stopped at the twelfth canon along the path. The balloon didn’t float very high above the cannon after I wrapped the string around the barrel, but I didn’t want it to come loose and fly away. We sat there and watched the wind blow it around. It looked like it was trying to break free and fly up to the gray clouds above to add some color to the sky. My parents just waited patiently with me until I was ready, not saying a thing or trying to get me to answer dumb questions to fill the silence. I was thankful for that. I was still saying goodbye.
We just all stood there remembering Rusty. The joy he had brought to our lives. The pain that he left in our hearts now that he was gone. I had always grown up with him at my feet or just a whistle away, and now he was gone forever. All I could do was try my best to remember the good times and be thankful for when I had him. That’s what he would have liked. He would never let me just lay around. His wet nose would poke at me, urging me to get up and play with him. So that’s what I decided to do. I decided to never forget him, but to not let my sadness keep me laying in bed or on the couch all day.
“Okay, we can go now,” I said.
My parents and I walked away, leaving the red heart shaped balloon to dance above the cannon like we were leaving a piece of our hearts behind that had belonged to Rusty. Everytime I pass by that canon on walks I remember him, and what a great friend he was.
THE END
Thank you for reading my short story Helium Heart! Here is a special treat for you. Listen to Mick and Katharina Bordet from the Every Photo Tells podcast narrate this story:
https://everyphototells.com/2013/02/episode-109-helium-heart/
For more about me check out my website where you can read about my writing journey and find links to many more free stories both in eBook and audio book formats:
https://www.DanDanTheArtMan.com
