Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans…on four paws
Photo by Silvana Carlos on Unsplash
Scott had barely opened his eyes. It was a perennial squint. He was curled up like a ball on a bloody sheet. “Where am I?” he thought. “Why am I here?”
And he was thinking, not talking. He was used to speaking. But his speech was mute. He could talk, at least not yet.
Scott noticed something weird next to him. It was a puppy. A puppy just born. The puppy’s eyes were barely open. The puppy was lying there, its little body curled. When it moved, he saw the sex. It was a male puppy. Lying next to him still didn’t make any sense. Why was he laying next to a barely born puppy?
He turned over. “Wait, a minute,” he said to himself. “Why am I turning over like this?” He was rolling over, but not like a human. Scott rolling over like… a dog. Not just any dog; he was a puppy. He had four stumpy legs and a tiny wagging tail. Laying to his left was a sister puppy on her back (he could tell she was a female, of course) and started to squeal.
“Hi, there!” she said.
“Are you talking to me?” he said.
“I am!”
He saw another puppy. They all had nearly the same coloring: black faces, button black noses, beady brown eyes, and white legs with paws. They were all on the sheet and still in a state of shock.
“How did we get here?” Scott asked.
“You had to answer that question?” she giggled.
Scott did. Twenty-four hours ago, he was a young, athletic young man by his standards. He had dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a sturdy six-foot-frame. He had a job at a gym, great friends, and “Oh, my God,” he said. “Jennifer.!”
So, what happened? He thought. He was on his Harley Davidson en route to meet Jennifer. She was his girl. He met her at a house party by the beach. She wore a crochet summer dress over an orange one-piece. She has a great figure, he said to himself. Why cover it up?
Jennifer was shocked when he walked over to her. She thought it was a joke. Him talking to her. He was too good-looking for her, she thought. This was Clooney, Pitt, and Jackman rolled into one. But he’s talking to me!
He remembered going to the local Circle K to pump gas into his Harley Davidson. After he filled it up. He was off to meet Jennifer. She was his girl. He met her at a party on the beach. She had a mesh coverall over and an orange one-piece. She has a great figure, he said to himself. She would kill it in a bikini. He walked over to her. He never had an ounce of shyness. He was confident, but not cocky.
Jennifer was shocked when he walked over to her. She thought it was a joke. This hot guy was talking to her. He’s way too good-looking for her,she thought to herself. He’s Clooney! He’s Pitt! and he’s talking to me? I’m too plain for him. But he’s talking to me!
It was a relationship that took both of them by surprise. They liked silly jokes, weird foods, and lame action films. Jennifer never thought he would like her apple raisin tarts. He loved to hear her talk about her kindergarten classes from wiping snot from little noses to being the general of nap time. She loved his way of impersonating some of his clients at the gym and their intimate times together were passionate and tender at the same time. They both put the O in their orgasmic moments.
And he was on his way to see her. He was running late. He accelerated on the Harley a bit faster than usual when it happened. She was 16. She was driving her mother’s Buick. She got a text. She was also accelerating on the gas pedal. A text from Ashley. Neither was a positive combination. Ashley was waiting for her. She had to answer back to Ashley.
The impact of the SUV and a Harley Davidson, who had the sound of several train cars colliding with devastating results. The Buick looked like a silver accordion. The Harley Davidson was bent like a pretzel. She got out of the car. Surprisingly, she had a few scrapes, but nothing life-threatening. She was able to get out of the mangled metal to find her car turned around. Traffic stopped. People ran. The police came. They asked how she was and what happened. She began to cry before someone screamed, “HE’S OVER HERE!”
He was over there. Fifty feet in the air, later, head hitting the pavement. cracking the helmet, a pile of blood and broken bones in a heap. The police and EMTs came over. Unconscious, barely a pulse. Off to the hospital. Eventually on life support. Mom, dad, brother Jeff, sister Connie, brother-in-law Brett, and of course, a tear streaked Jennifer, hovered over his body. The doctor bore the bad news. No brain activity. There hasn’t been any. He made the suggestion. The tears began to flow. The arguments went back and forth. After the arguments, came Dr. Kubler-Ross’s final part: acceptances. Accepting the fact that he’s not coming back. Accepting the fact that he wanted his organ donated. Accepting the fact that he wanted to be cremated with his ashes spread over Veteran’s Park. That word. Acceptance hit each of his loved ones like a Ginsu knife. It hurt. It still hurts. But it’s still there.
His parents accepted that their second son, the adventurous one who climbed and jumped from a tree with a broken bone. The adventurous one who surfed in Australia and he was no Kelly Slater. How did that son survive those feats, yet was brought down by a texting-addicted teenager behind her mother’s car? He was over, gone, DEAD!
And yet, he wasn’t dead, but he also wasn’t himself either. Wait! Was it what he thought it was, like that Chris Rock movie? Or that cartoon he saw as a kid? Be he wasn’t in heaven. Not if heaven was a bloodied sheet with tiny balls of fur rolling around it.
Of all the things to come back as. He reincarnated as something with a shorter life span than his own. His fatal demise led to this? A puppy?
And yet, he wasn’t dead.
“You all must be hungry,” she said. She rolled over once more, exposing six nipples. “I have enough for everyone.” On one hand, Scott was used to suckling on a woman’s nipples. His mother, or course, and yes, Jennifer. But this was different.
“You can call me Mother,” she said. “In a way, I just gave birth to you. Again, please eat!” Scott snorted as he helped himself to a nipple. The milk was delicious, and his brothers and sisters drank along. When he finished, he asked Mother about his status. “Why am I here?” he said.
“I know you were expecting pearly gates and St. Peter, right?”
“That’s heaven, right?” He asked.
“All six of you have been reborn into Lhasa apso puppies.”
“I heard about this,” Scott said. “They were reincarnated Buddhist monks, right?
“That’s correct,” Mother said. “And all five of you were reincarnated to look over those you sadly left behind.”
“Really?” said girl puppy, who in another life fell off a ladder in her house.
“Yes,” said Mother.
“But why short hairy dogs?” said Scott’s lighter-haired brother, who was hit by a line drive pitching in a minor league game.
“Because you will be good watch dogs and devoted pets,” Mother said. “You will be true lion dogs!”
Scott still didn’t take his new status seriously, even as he went from a newborn to a month old one. He asked their mother about her status. “I was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said. “And your father died in a skydiving accident, but we love our master very much.” But he watched Pitcher and Ladder Girl get adopted. He was now alone. But not for long, when he saw a familiar figure. The long blond hair and quirky glasses. “Jennifer?” he thought. Once he saw her, he had to go to her. He ran, then stood on two legs. Jennifer was so surprised by the puppy’s gesture that she couldn’t help but pick him up into her arms. She had found her companion.
“I’m going to call you Phoenix,” she said. “Because it means ‘rebirth’.” She whispered to him.
As Jennifer and Phoenix left, Mother sighed and went to curl up in the corner. “Rebirth,” she said and went to sleep.
Also published in Vocal.Media.
