One Last Ride

by Chloe Short 10 months ago in dog

Short Story

One Last Ride

I remember a day that would have to be the saddest day of my life, yet somehow on this day, I felt a small part of happiness. I climbed down from the bus like any other day, glad to stretch my legs after the long perilous bus trip home. The air felt different on that day; it felt heavy and cold, the heavens above were dark and grey. I remember the ground was damp underneath me and my shoes squashed in the dirt road. Inside the car it was warm, but still the air was heavy. Mum was sitting in the driver's seat her face was pale and her grey-blue eyes were slightly puffy and red, her eyes were glassy, but no tears fell from them.

"Hey, sweetie how was school?" Her voice was quiet that day and not cheerful like it always was when I got home.

"Yeh, school was school. What's happened?" I asked curious of what was wrong.

"Something has happened to Bingo," I braced myself for the worst, not knowing that the worst was still yet to come. Bingo was an old dog and he had always been on the farm; Bingo was a part of home.

"He got hit by the ute. It only scraped him though, he can't walk much and we think his cancer might be back. The spot is there again," Mum's voice was quiet. She had taken a deep breath and continued telling me what had happened to Bingo. She said that the vet had come around already and that he probably had internal damage if he was hit, and if he hasn't the cancer may have taken over without us knowing and may have been back for months.

At home I rushed to throw my bag off, Bingo sat on his faded red bed by the side door. I snuggle my forehead onto his and scratched his warm black fur with streaks of grey. Mum had put the kettle on and made me a Milo. I sat curled under a soft blanket on a chair outside next to Bingo and took small sips of my Milo to keep me warm. As the air became colder I curled up closer to my body as I read my book. I would be reluctant as mum would tell me to go inside before I caught a cold.

I repeated this for the next three days, no matter how cold it would get I refused to be inside until I had been next to Bingo for as long as I could be. Bingo would barely get up. I encouraged him to move a little and I would try to get him to drink as much as possible and eat small bits of dog food. Most of the time Bingo would sleep and his soft snores were cute and soothed my nerves as it was an indication that he had not yet left. Every few hours we would give him medicine that had to be hidden by pieces of ham.

As the third night came I was inside making myself a warm drink and shoving away my homework that I had finished back into my bag. The kettle had just finished boiling and as I was pouring the hot water into the old chipped cup. I heard a ghastly cough from outside.

My heart held its beat as I ran out of the house to Bingo. A dark brown mushy liquid was pooling in his bed. I screamed. The stench of it turned my insides as I continuously shouted for my parents. His head was lying in the pool blocking the air from his nose, without thinking about it I moved my hand under his chin and lift it up so he wouldn't drown. He gulped for the air and then splatted out another hunk from his insides. I was still screaming out a scratching shriek for help, whilst trying to move him out of the pooling death. Tears blurred my eyes and my hand shook uncontrollably. I bellowed at him not to go, my voice breaking as I said, "NO! No..... This isn't fair!" I didn't notice my parent's hands that helped me hold his chin up. His coughs began to slow, "Ssssh its's going to be okay." The tears streamed down my face and seeped into his thick coat. He stopped coughing. "Ssssh, sweetie it's okay," I tried to comfort him through my sobs, stroking his fur like I had done every day of my childhood.

I heard mum and dad muttering behind me, I then became aware of the world around me. Dad's face was red and his eyes were bloodshot as tears glistened in his eyes; I had barely ever seen my dad cry. Mum's eyes were the same, her jaw was clenched and her face was sickly pale. I turned back to Bingo as a tear rolled down my eye and I knew it was time. Bingo was lifted up onto the back of the Ute, I patted Bingo for the last time. As the sun was setting behind the grey clouds the Ute drove off leaving my mum and I standing there as the night became cold and the warmth left the world.

Dad came back late for tea; his face still moist from the tears, he told mum and I that he didn't need to be put down as he died in the back of the Ute going on his one last ride. This thought had put a small smile on my lips knowing it was going to be okay.

Chloe Short
Chloe Short
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