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Rex

My dad, the dog, and the little black notebook

By Brian Wayne WeberPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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A photo I took in the early 1990s that inspired this story.

I got two gifts for my eighth birthday, but neither was what I’d asked for. The first was a dog, who I named Rex, and the second was a little black notebook, that I also named Rex. I did not have a particularly good imagination at the time, and I proved it by naming both gifts after a third Rex… my dad, Rex McCallister, who gave me the gifts. I loved all three Rexes more than I loved just about anything else as a kid.

Rex the dog was a good pet, who would have been more appropriately named Spot, on account of the one dark brown spot in the middle of his otherwise light brown back. Rex my dad was a good man, and the name suited him just fine… he didn’t have any spots.

Rex my dad helped me build a house for Rex the dog, and he called it Rex’s Royal Residence, which was a better name than anything I’d thought of. We put the house beneath a nice big tree, with lots of big green leaves for shade, and Rex the dog and I spent the whole summer sitting in the grass under that tree next to Rex’s Royal Residence.

Rex the little black notebook had pages that were completely blank. Rex my dad said I could fill those pages with anything I wanted, but he suggested that I write one thing on each page that I would do if I had all the money in the world. Coincidentally, all the money in the world is what I’d asked for as a birthday gift.

I soon noticed something unusual about Rex the little black notebook. I felt a charge that I couldn’t understand every time I held it in my hands, and that charge sparked my imagination in ways I’d never felt before. Writing my ideas came easy, and I showed Rex the dog every single one. If I had all the money in the world, I would start by building houses for all the dogs who didn’t have Royal Residences, then I would plant trees around our town for every dog that didn’t have enough shade, and I would also buy a little black notebook for any boy and girl with a dog, so they could feel that same spark of energy that I did. By the end of the summer, Rex the dog and I had completely filled Rex the little black notebook with dozens of amazing ideas.

Then, just as the weather turned colder, Rex the dog got sick. When he passed away a few days later, the veterinarian told Rex my dad that it was just a normal dog disease, and there was nothing we could have done for him. I was sad, but Rex my dad suggested we bury Rex the dog right under his Royal Residence, and that made me happy. I suggested we bury Rex the little black notebook there too, and that’s what we did.

I grew up and moved away about ten years later. I never got another dog, and the big tree above Rex’s Royal Residence never grew another leaf… not one. I always figured the tree was sad too. Or maybe it just knew Rex the dog didn’t need the shade anymore.

More years went by, and then last week, Rex my dad got sick too. When he passed away a few days later, doctors told me it was just a normal age-related disease, and there was nothing I could have done for him. I was sad, but I found Rex the little black notebook when sorting through his belongings, and that made me happy. He must have dug it up sometime after I left home. It was tattered on the edges, and a little dirty, but every page was still as readable as the day I’d buried it.

Today, for the first time since I was eight, I sat down under the leafless tree, next to what was left of Rex’s Royal Residence, and I held Rex the little black notebook in my hands. I felt that same creative energy when I read through the pages again, only it was a thousand times more powerful.

It was sunny, but as I stretched out in the grass, there was suddenly shade all around me. I looked up, and saw what I thought were leaves that had grown again, just then, on that big old tree. But it wasn’t leaves at all. It was money! I don’t know how it happened, but there were lots and lots of crisp green bills where the leaves used to be. They started falling, and I scooped them up, tossed them back into the air, and danced as they came back to the ground. I counted them, over and over… exactly $20,000.

Rex my dad never had all the money in the word, and I probably won’t either, but somehow I now have enough to fulfill the ideas that Rex the dog and I wrote down so many years ago. And thanks to Rex the little black notebook, I also have Rex my dad’s great imagination… which as it turns out, is the best gift of all.

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About the Creator

Brian Wayne Weber

I am a trademark attorney who lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. I recently published a short historical fiction detective novel set in 1960, called Fire and Fate in Vegas: The Accidental Murder of Johnny Ronson.

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