All That Ails You: The Adventures of a Canine Caregiver

by Mark J. Asher

  By the time Mark and Michelle left the front office, their hearts were heavy. I tried to cheer them up by playfully galloping alongside them on their way to Walter’s room, but they were too deep inside of themselves to notice.

  When we arrived at Walter’s door it was closed, which was hardly ever the case, since the incident with Corina. Mark held Michelle’s hand, turned the handle, and they went inside. When I tried to follow, Mark held up his hand to signal that I wasn’t welcome.

  I pried my nose in the sliver of space between the door frame and the door, trying to smell what I couldn’t see, and then retreated to a spot a few feet away.

  In a matter of minutes, after closing my eyes, I found myself staring up a tree and barking at a large squirrel, which was on the top branch. He was nervously chirping away, looking for an escape route, but there wasn’t one. At last, I had a squirrel up a tree, with no power lines, fences, rooftops, or other trees around! I was prepared to wait him out for as long as it took.

  At that moment, Michelle opened the door, jarring me awake, and, unfortunately, bringing me back to reality. She motioned it was okay for me to come inside.

  After I stretched, and gave myself a good shake, I followed Michelle into the bedroom, where Walter was lying awake in his bed. Mark patted the mattress for me to hop up, but I was already in mid-flight when he did so. I sniffed around a bit, and then sat beside Walter, looking over him like a doctor with a dangling tongue, instead of a stethoscope.

  “Hello, Wrigley,” he said, looking up at me. It was the first time I had seen him that day, and his eyes looked as though he hadn’t slept much.

  I leaned down and gave him a couple of quick licks on his face. He reciprocated by reaching up to scratch the side of my head.

  “Walter, I’ve never met any of your doctors,” Michelle said, looking on from a chair she had pulled up beside Walter’s nightstand, “But when it comes to bedside manner, I bet this dog is better than any of them.”

  “He’s definitely less expensive,” Mark cracked. “And he makes house calls.”

  Despite the lighthearted moment, the mood in the room was somber. Sensing that Walter’s time was limited, the tone of Mark and Michelle’s conversations with him began to change.

  “Is there anything you haven’t seen or done in this life, Walter?” Michelle asked, later in their visit, as casually as possible.

  “Nothing I can think of,” Walter answered.

  “What he doesn’t experience in this life,” Mark interjected, “he’ll get to do in the next one, when he comes back as a bird.”

  Walter let out a chuckle. “You still remember that, huh?”

  “Yep, I even remember the spot we were at when you told me,” Mark replied.

  “A bird, huh, Walter,” Michelle said, surprised. “What kind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A hawk or an eagle would be nice.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Sally poked her head inside. “I need to get in here for a minute. Do you mind?” she asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” Michelle told her.

  “I’ll be quick, I just need to do one thing.”

  “No problem, take your time,” Mark told Sally. “We’re just discussing the afterlife.”

  “Oh boy, I better get out of here as soon as I can,” Sally responded.

  “If you could come back as anything, Sally, what would it be?” Mark asked her.

  “I’d have to think about that one.” Sally replied, “My first thought, with the day I’m having, is that one life is more than enough.”

  “I’m with you, Sally,” Michelle replied.

  Mark and Michelle stayed for a little while longer, waiting until Walter fell asleep to leave. Once he did, Mark gently lifted me off the bed, and called me to follow him and Michelle back to the front office. They chatted with Jane for a few minutes, before telling her they would return sometime in the morning.

  When they arrived, I was already in Walter’s room, digging into a new chewbone. Mark quickly turned on a football game and found a spot on the couch near Walter’s recliner. Michelle sat on the other side of him, while she knitted a sweater for her niece. Walter hadn’t said much all morning, and didn’t appear to be feeling well, so I was surprised when he became animated about the game.

  “Just catch the damn ball and stop with the showboating,” he barked at one of the players. “This fool’s celebrating after catching a fifteen yard pass, when his team’s down by two touchdowns.”

  “He’s happy,” Michelle innocently chimed in. “What’s wrong with a little joy?”

  “Next thing you know,” Walter went on, ignoring Michelle’s comment, “they’ll be tweeting after they catch a pass.”

  “It drives me crazy.” Mark said, agreeing with his father. “That, and when they stand over a guy after a tackle, taunting him.”

  “Well, Wrigley,” Michelle responded, looking over at me, on my bed. “I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.”

  When halftime of the game came, Mark stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and announced to the group, “It’s probably a good idea for us to go now.”

  I perked up when I heard the g-word, getting to my feet. Mark and Michelle began moving around quickly, which gave me the feeling something out of the ordinary was happening. I stood and watched the two of them, looking for clues.

  Michelle headed to the kitchen and took food from the refrigerator, and put it into a cooler, while Mark pulled a few things from Walter’s hallway closet. Then, both of them helped Walter out of his recliner, and wrapped him up like a mummy in warm clothes and a blanket. When Mark walked over to pick up my water bowl, and grabbed Marjorie’s box of peanut butter biscuits, I got super-excited. Michelle grabbed my leash from the hook by the door, and I obediently sat, as she clipped it to my collar.

  Michelle, Walter, and I waited, while Mark left and returned with a wheelchair. Once Walter got situated in it, and was ready to go, the four of us slowly made our way past the front office—where Michelle waved back at Jane and Theresa—and out the front door.

  When we got to Mark’s car, he and Michelle carefully eased Walter out of the wheelchair and into the passenger seat. Michelle opened the back door, and I jumped inside.

  I immediately smelled hamburger, which I took as a good sign. Cars are notoriously a great place to find fast food leftovers, chips, nuts, or cookie pieces. I put my nose down, and began searching around me.

  “Go ahead, Wrigley,” Michelle encouraged me, allowing me to move to the other side of her, “I don’t think you’ll find much.”

  She was right—all sniffs, no snacks.

  God I hate it when people are neat freaks.

  31

  We drove for quite a ways before getting off the freeway and climbing a steep, winding road. As we zigzagged back and forth up the hillside, I was reminded of a similar ride I took as a puppy in the back of a truck that caused me to get sick, while we were in motion. It wasn’t a pretty sight when my owners came to get me and discovered my mess.

  When the car finally came to a stop, I waited while Mark and Michelle helped Walter back into his wheelchair. Michelle then opened the back door, grabbed the end of my leash, and led me out.

  Wherever we were, it sure smelled good. I stuck my snout in the air, and took in a few good whiffs.

  Michelle wrapped my leash around her wrist a few times, and then, alongside Mark, who pushed Walter, we made a slow procession to a lookout point. Once we got there, I curiously inched forward, and Michelle quickly pulled me back.

  We were standing on a plateau between two cliffs, partially covered in snow. The canyon below was a mix of large rock formations, rugged terrain, and trees. A long ways down, I could see a body of water snaking through the canyon.

  “Well, Dad,” Mark said, taking in the view, “if for some reason you come back as a pitcher for the Cubs, instead of a bird, this will give you the feeling of being one.”

  “The Cubs can always use pitchi
ng, so that wouldn’t be so bad,” Walter joked. “But this is incredible.”

  “I love nature in the wintertime.” Michelle said, squatting down, and resting her arm on Walter’s wheelchair. “It’s so pristine and beautiful.”

  “And, best of all, uncrowded,” Mark added.

  Off to the right in the distance, I spotted an object in the sky. Mark followed my gaze.

  “You guys, check that out, way over there,” he said, pointing. “What an awesome spot to hang glide.”

  “You couldn’t get me in one of those things for any amount of money in the world,” Michelle responded.

  “I bet if you tried it, you’d love it,” Mark replied. “Remember, you promised to go ziplining with me.”

  “I will,” Michelle answered, “as soon as I can get my nerve up.”

  The conversation trailed off, and everyone gazed out at the natural surroundings. Other than an occasional gust of wind, there was no movement or sound. I turned my head from side to side, looking to spot something of interest, but when I couldn’t, I decided to lie down.

  Nobody said a word, until Michelle spotted a pair of hawks circling high above us. “Look!” she exclaimed, standing up to point out the birds.

  “Here you go, Dad,” Mark said, handing Walter a pair of binoculars, and wrapping the strap around his father’s neck.

  “Can you imagine being able to soar like that?” Walter asked, marveling at the birds in flight. “Listen closely and you can hear that beautiful sound of their wings gliding through the air.”

  “I hear it,” Michelle replied.

  “Oh to be a bird, flying weightless and free,” Walter said, taking the binoculars away from his face, and letting them rest on his chest, “instead of an old, broken down man in a wheelchair, waiting to die.”

  “Speaking of birds,” Michelle said, quickly pivoting away from Walter’s comment about dying. “I can’t believe how many geese I’ve been seeing on my morning jogs. I love hearing the honking sound they make when they fly through the sky . . . they sound so happy.”

  “Do you know why they fly in a V formation?” Walter asked her.

  “I used to know this, but I forgot.”

  “It forms a slipstream, so that the birds further back in the formation exert less energy when they fly.”

  “The only thing I remember about geese is that they mate for life,” Michelle replied. “A woman doesn’t forget things like that.”

  “I think they live for 20 to 25 years, so that’s longer than most relationships,” Walter said.

  “Did you guys know that if one of them gets sick or shot, a pair of geese will drop out of their formation and stay with the injured bird, until it can fly again or until it dies?” Mark asked.

  “I didn’t know that,” Walter answered.

  “That’s so endearing,” Michelle responded. “Knowing that, I like them even more.”

  I hate to break up this love affair with geese, but I will anyway. I’m afraid these people are overlooking a few things. First of all, when these birds aren’t flying, they’re shitting all over the place. Secondly, while they’re sitting around shitting, they occupy open spaces, where people and kids walk and play.

  I remember a park that I used to go with Tracie, and during certain times of the year, geese took the place over. They finally had to turn it into an off-leash area for dogs, so we could get rid of them. The only redeeming qualities about these birds are that they’re fun to chase, and dried goose poop can be pretty tasty.

  From geese, the conversation shifted to a trip Mark and Michelle were planning on taking to see polar bears in Manitoba, Canada.

  After a half hour or so of listening to everyone talk and staring out at the scenery, I was beginning to get bored. I poked my nose at Walter’s arm, and he freed it to pet me from beneath the blanket that was covering him.

  “Did you guys bring those treats for Wrigley?” he asked Mark and Michelle.

  “No, I left them in the car, but I’ll go grab them,” Mark offered.

  “It’s alright,” Michelle replied. “It’s getting dark, and I’m getting cold. What do you guys say we head back?”

  “Have you seen enough, Dad?” Mark asked Walter.

  “Yeah, I’m ready to go.” he answered.

  32

  After we loaded into the car, Mark turned on some music, while Michelle helped Walter adjust his headrest, and draped another blanket over him. Everyone was situated and ready for the long trek down the hill, but the humans, who are often the ones guilty of having short memories, forgot one thing—my treat!

  I nosed around the canvas bag Michelle had beside her, and looked up at her, as if to say, I think you forgot something. She reached inside, opened the plastic bag, and handed me a peanut butter biscuit. After I finished it, I curled up and dozed off, thankfully missing the winding road the second time around.

  When the car came to a stop, I opened my eyes, and stood up. We were at the bottom of the mountain near the freeway. Mark turned to Walter and asked, “Do you have enough energy, Dad, to take a quick drive through the old neighborhood?”

  “Too late,” Michelle answered with a laugh, hearing the first wheezes of Walter’s infamous snoring. She gently lifted his head, and put a pillow beneath it, so he wouldn’t be leaning against the hard window.

  “I think I’ll drive there anyway and surprise him,” Mark told Michelle.

  Within ten minutes, we were off of the freeway, and on a boulevard lined with shops and restaurants. Michelle cracked one of the back windows, so I could get some air. I immediately picked up the scent of a dog close by, and looked around until I spotted an exuberant Lab riding the wind in the car beside us. There was a small child in the backseat, who was trying to get her dog to notice me, but the pup was too content to care.

  I continued staring out the window, looking at the scenery of passing cars and people on the street, while listening to Mark and Michelle reminisce about places from their high school days that were no longer around.

  When the boulevard came to an end, we made a left turn, and found ourselves alongside a large cemetery.

  “That’s where my Grandfather is buried,” Mark said, looking over to see if Walter was still asleep.

  “I didn’t know that,” Michelle replied. “So is my Mom’s Dad.”

  “After he died, my Dad visited his grave every couple of weeks, just to make sure he was still dead.”

  “You’re kidding me. How long did he do that for?”

  “I don’t remember… I think it was almost a year,” Mark replied, sadly.

  After passing the cemetery, we transitioned onto an open two-lane road, bordered by hillside.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to drive up to my childhood house,” Mark said, looking at Michelle in the rear-view mirror.

  “That’s fine,” she replied. “Your Dad’s still sound asleep.”

  With nothing interesting left to look at, I curled up beside Michelle, and rested my head on her lap.

  “Isn’t this the stretch where your brother was hit on his bike?” she asked Mark, looking out her side of the car.

  Mark didn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said, leaning forward, and reaching her hand around the head rest to rub Mark’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you to talk about. It must have been devastating for your family.”

  “It’s okay . . . if we’re going to be together, you should know about it,” Mark finally responded. “Jeff’s death sent my father over the edge. He was hardened already, but this turned him to stone. The anger ate away at him for years—he just couldn’t let it go. My mother tried to deal with it differently. She eventually met with the guy who hit Jeff, in hopes of finding some closure. It helped a little, but I know losing one of her sons shortened her life.”

  “The guy was drunk, right?” Michelle asked.

  “Yeah, it happened on a Saturday night. My brother and his fiancé were training for a race they were going to ride in
Paris during their honeymoon. The guy was three times over the legal limit.”

  “It’s so sad.”

  “The thing that still gets me,” Mark said before pausing to catch his emotions, “is that Jeff had finally found this great woman, who shared his passion for cycling . . . they were a week away from moving in together, and then this.”

  “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know that,” Michelle replied.

  “For years I wished it had been me,” Mark continued. “Jeff was my Dad’s first born and his favorite. They were so similar, saw eye to eye on everything. I was the rebellious one, always at odds with him. I think my father turned his anger toward me because Jeff was gone, and I wasn’t what he wanted me to be.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  Seconds later, Walter began to move in his seat. He cleared his throat, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Mark responded, anxiously, looking over at him. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

  “For being the way I was after your brother died,” Walter replied.

  “I appreciate that, Dad,” Mark responded, “but our relationship suffered from more than just that.”

  “I know,” Walter replied, sheepishly.

  “Really?” Mark said, unconvinced. “When it comes to things like this, you’ve always been clueless.”

  “We’re having such a nice day,” Michelle interjected, “let’s try to keep it that way.”