Goodbye Buddy (short story 26)

  Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

*

 

In the back seat of their big old sedan sit three kids, 7 year old Tommy, 5 year old Carol, and 3 year old Debbie. Tommy and Carol are buckled in, while Debbie’s in a car seat staring out the car window in wonder. Tommy and Carol act silly. Tommy calls Carol a “Carol-Barrel-Feral-daryl-big-barrel” and Carol calls Tommy a “Tommy-orgami-commie-big-dommy.” When they both laugh, that’s Debbie cue to join in with her own high-pitched laugh.

Fred and Marcie are in the front seat, somber. It’s a humid, overcast day, and looks like rain, but it's holding back. Marcie strokes the greying hairs of their beagle-mix Buddy, who she holds in her arms. Buddy’s awake and stares blankly with his foggy grey eyes. He’s been blind for a few years and has been going deaf recently. 

Fred pulls in the parking lot of the Animal Hospital. “I’ll be right back,” Fred tells his kids in the back. Fred gets out and Marcie opens her door. Fred somberly takes Buddy in his arms and carries him inside. Marcie sniffs, shuts her door, and watches Fred and Buddy go inside.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tommy asks Marcie. “Nothing,” Marcie says without looking at Tommy. Carol tickles Debbie and pokes Tommy in the arm. This starts another sequence of silly laugh-inducing behavior from the back seat, that continues until Fred returns without Buddy. 

Fred gets in the car, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads back home the way they came.

Eventually the silliness in the back seat dies down and Tommy asks, “Where’s Buddy?” 

“Buddy was sick, sweetie,” Marcie says.

“Is Buddy at the dog doctor?” Carol asks.

“We had to put Buddy to sleep,” Fred says, almost apologetically. “What does that mean?” Tommy asks. "He's sleeping?"

“Is Buddy sleeping at the vet’s?” Carol asks.

“Buddy was sick. The vet put him to sleep permanently. He’s not coming back,” Fred says.

“Buddy’s not asleep, he’s dead?” Tommy asks.

“Yes, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Marcie says. Carol starts to cry. Then Tommy starts to cry. When they both cry, that’s Debbie cue to start her own high-pitched, loud wailing.

“Couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” Carol asks.

“It was his time, honey,” Marcie says.

“No it wasn’t!” Carol said, snot running down her nose.

“He’s not asleep. Why did you say he was?” Tommy asks, in between sobs.

“It’s just an expression,” Fred says. “He was fifteen. That’s a very old age for a dog.”

The rest of the ride home was like this - crying followed by occasional sobbing questions - but, deep down, Tommy didn’t believe Buddy was gone. Buddy has been around the house ever since Tommy was born.

That night, Fred came into Tommy's bedroom to tuck him in for bed. 

Tommy told his dad about thhe times he teased blind old Buddy, picking his up and placing him in front of a wall then loudly calling him from another room. Buddy would walk into the wall and Tommy would laugh like the immature, sometimes cruel, little snot he was. He thought nothing of making fun of Buddy, when Buddy was alive. Now that Buddy was gone, he couldn’t stop thinking of how mean he was. This started a new round of crying.

“I’m sure Buddy’s in heaven and he forgives you,” Fred says, handing Tommy another kleenex.

“How do you know?” Tommy asks in between sobs. 

“He was a nice dog, don’t you think?”

“He was the best.”

“It’s in his personality. Are you going to do that again, if we get another dog?”

“Never, dad. Will God forgive me for being mean to Buddy?”

“You know it was wrong and you promise to do better in the future, right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I think God forgives you and Buddy forgives you. And you mom and I forgive you. I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep and let Buddy live a happy life in your dreams tonight.”

“I’m going to dream about playing with Buddy.” 

“Good night,” Fred says, kissing Tommy on his forehead, turning out the lights and softly closing the door. 

Outside, the rain finally stars pouring. And Tommy starts to cry again.