When the Candle is Lit...

 

When the Candle is Lit

By

Scott Casteel

 

Sometimes it is loud, sometimes it is anticipated yet other times it comes like a thief in the night.  The only thing for certain is that it will happen. The timing is often bittersweet and rarely welcomed.

 

I was having a difficult time trying to figure out what to write about for this week’s writing prompt. I could have easily written about alarm calls and the odd things seen in people’s home. That might suggest I was predictable. Predictability is for those who can neatly fold fitted sheets.

 

As I was waiting for our dog to come out of surgery, the receptionist posted a sign at the front desk. She smiled at me in that polite way to let me know something was amiss and not to ask questions. With a candle attached to a frame, I walked over and read the words and quietly went to a vacant corner and waited. I knew I had found my story.

 

 

 

 

If this candle is lit,

someone is saying goodbye to their beloved pet.

We ask that you speak softly

and with respect during

this difficult time.

 

Being a bit pragmatic, I have an odd sense of comfort in the thought that when your number is up, it is up. All living things die. It is in your job description when you are born. There are very few snooze buttons and perhaps it is unfair, in the grand scheme of things, to push them anyway.

 

As for me and my family, we are dog people. There has never been a time in our 34 years of marriage we did not have a dog, often several. We had a cat once, once.  It did not go well. I have likened cats to high school cheerleaders. They ignore you until they want something, then they rub up against you. Dogs are, well, just one of the guys. They tag along and just hang out. They are far more loyal and much less dramatic than cats, but I digress.

 

Our first dog we bought at a garage sale. Hands down, she was the best five dollars we ever spent. She was named Clancy, after a character in the movie The Man from Snowy River. It was a semi-sorta wedding present from my lovely bride. After twelve years, two couches and three vertical blinds later, the time came.

 

 I was halfway through my field training as a deputy, so stress was at a premium. It was not so much that I ignored what was going on; it was more I simply did not recognize it. Even after all these years, I still hold a grudge against the vet. I was a big boy and not in need of being protected. “Your dog has cancer and is going to die” are harsh words but very digestible. Instead, I was told “Here, feed her this. Most dogs will eat it when they won’t eat anything else.” If I had known, I would not have taken her camping.

 

When we came home from our time in the woods, she had spiraled noticeably downward. Even I knew, it was time. It was Sunday afternoon; we took her to a local emergency animal hospital. The doctor was kind and direct. He told me the big mass on her neck is cancer and she would not survive. He explained the process. Knowing there was no need to further her suffering, I nodded in agreement and left the room while they prepped the I.V. port. When I walked back into the room, her tail tapped gently against the exam table. I will never know if she knew, but I held her now limp body tightly as she ran free once again over the rainbow bridge. You know why they call it the rainbow bridge? Perhaps the rainbow comes from the tears that fall like rain from all the pet owners saying goodbye. Well, that is my take on it anyway. I didn’t just cry, I balled like a baby. Eventually, I sucked it up and stuffed my sadness somewhere deep so as not to find it. I composed myself and went out into the world. Perhaps it was good training. I got really good at sucking it up and moving on. Just sayin’…