This is not an alcohol story. I sometimes think I might be a writer some day. Today I thought I would write down this story. This is a "my pet died" story so get the hankies out. I think it also brings hope.
Katie and The Ball
Katie was a little dog. We got her one Saturday. My Ex and I, back when we were together.
I had dogs before that. They were bigger dogs, retriever type dogs. I had to put them down because they were chasing the neighbor kids. I had them when we met, and my Ex accepted them fine, but they were always my dogs. They were energetic and territorial hunting style dogs. I lived on acreage at the time, a little farm. One day the town moved the local elementary school bus stop to be right in front of my dog fence. Seven little kids standing every day right in front of two aggressive fenced in hunting dogs. Not much you can do about that. They were mutts and no one wanted them. Farm life is like that. There are lots of animals, and you have to deal with them. I sadly put them down, and we chose a small breed of dog as a replacement.
One Saturday we drove up north to the breeder. It was about a two hour drive, during which my Ex made clear what expectations we had. Our new dog was never to sleep on the bed. Our new dog would never be allowed on the furniture. Our new dog would be disciplined and trained well, and would be respectful of guests.
And then we bought our new dog. It hardly seemed she was old enough to go home. Her little ears were so tiny and her nose all smushed-in flat. As we drove home, the puppy started crying. My Ex held her close and she nestled in and settled to a sleepy whimper. I asked what we should name her. My Ex said Katherine, after my Grandmother who we had recently visited. I said Katie sounded good. The dog snuggled, and we drove home, and somewhere during the drive, all those rules I had just listened to got left behind.
Katie grew up like any puppy does. She did all the things that puppies do. She peed and pooped in the living room. She chewed on the wood furniture. She destroyed a blanket by eating holes in it. She quickly grew into a fast running energetic bundle of fur. She slept on the bed, jumped on all the furniture, and put her muddy paws on every guest. No one seemed to mind.
One day, I bought a ball. It was a yellow neoprene ball. It had a bell inside and a small round hole so you could hear the bell. There was a waffle grid on the ball. It was in a blister pack at the department store, and cost a couple dollars. At night, after dinner, we would throw the ball across the room. Katie quickly learned to retrieve it, and bring it to be thrown again. This way we could keep her occupied while we relaxed in the evening.
Katie always reacted as if the ball had special magic. She acted as if it were alive, like a little animal. She would fetch it and ?kill it? and bring it back so proudly. It was almost like she said ?I killed it, and now it?s dead, so now you throw it and make it alive again?.
Summer came and went, and so did winter. Katie loved the snow. The yellow ball became old and dirty. We washed it, but it wasn?t clean any more. So I picked up a green ball at the grocery store. I brought it home. And I threw the green ball.
Katie ran to sniff it. She sniffed again. Then came back without it.
I figured it was the color. Dogs are color blind, but I figured Katie just didn?t like the green ball. Maybe it tasted bad. Maybe it didn?t smell right.
So I bought another yellow ball. But Katie would not bring it back either. I bought a ball with a bell. I bought some balls without bells. I bought tennis balls, and plastic balls and every ball in every store. For Katie, none of these balls had the special magic to become ?alive? for fetching.
To distinguish the original ball from Katie?s many other balls we started calling it ?The? Ball. ?There?s a ball on the couch and one in the kitchen but ?The? Ball is in Katie?s basket?, we would say.
Katie grew older, and so did The Ball. It cracked a bit and the bell fell out. But for Katie, it wasn?t the bell that made it The Ball.
The neoprene dried out and it stopped bouncing. It just made a thud on the floor. But the bounce wasn?t what made it The Ball.
It looked awful, so I tried to wash it. What would our guests think if they saw a dirty rubber ball on the living room floor? Clean or dirty, Katie didn?t care. It wasn?t the look, or color, or smell that made it The Ball.
Sometimes we wouldn?t see it for weeks. But Katie always knew exactly where The Ball was. If you threw a ball for fetch, and tell Katie to ?Go get the ball?, she would ignore what you threw, and burrow in her basket and pull out The Ball instead.
Katie grew up, and so did we. My Ex and I never married and ended up separating after a time for reasons we no longer remember. The Ball didn?t fare well. The rubber continued to dry out, and it started cracking all over. A whole portion of it eventually fell away. It darkened into a grey-brown color. It mostly resembled the ?death star? from Star Wars, a grey-brown half shell with the faint etching from the original waffle pattern.
My career did ok, although not in a straight line. Let?s just say the successes outweighed the failures over time. The house we bought together got sold a year or two after we both had left it. After a time I got married to someone else, and that was five and a half years ago.
Katie grew older. She became possessive as some dogs do. She became very insistent on her daily walks, barking and demanding if things were not done on time, or if my Ex stopped to talk to a neighbor. There was never a question on who ran their house, or who was in charge of the schedule. I visited them now and then. Sometimes for a holiday, or sometimes for a party. They visited us as well.
Katie became very old. This past year, she got a tumor in her bladder. When discovered, the tumor was already too advanced to be removed. Drugs were useful in reducing the size and keeping her comfortable. Through this past summer she seemed to be ok most of the time. On most days she still insisted on her walks and was still running household activities.
Last Tuesday, Katie took her last walk. Here tumor had grown to restrict her hind legs. She has been walking stiffly for a year, and lately her back was more and more hunched to as the tumor filled her insides. On Tuesday she was barely out the door, squatted to pee as female dogs do, and fell over with a groan. She was unable to support herself. After that she lay on the couch. My Ex called me to see her. ?It is time?. I went to pet little Katie, and I think she still recognized me after a time. She could follow our talking. That was all. She had become a living head and shoulders on a body that could no longer function. She hadn?t eaten for a couple weeks, and was barely able to drink.
I drove the two of them to the veterinarian on Friday. There really wasn?t a need to consult with the doctor. Katie was fifteen and a half years old. Most dogs have a life span of twelve years, so Katie was like 100 in dog years. Even if she didn?t have a tumor, dogs just don?t live that long, so there?s little need to ask for dramatic measures. While we were waiting I asked my Ex where she would be buried. My Ex replied that there was a pet cremation service, and that Katie would be cremated along with her blanket and, of course, ?The Ball?.
And that?s when I really lost it. Half laughing and half crying the emotions of years passed through me.
?The Ball?? I asked. ?You can?t possibly have saved that old ball all these years!?
?I had to?, said my Ex. ?She never would fetch anything else?.
And then the Vet came in, and she sedated Katie. She then injected her. We all waited a few minutes and the Vet checked her heart and lungs, and they were silent.
No one lives forever. If you are young enough to to handle a kitten or a puppy, you will likely outlive the death of that dog or cat. Katie was a cute puppy, a rollicking adult and a manipulative oldster. It has been hard to see her decline. But her decline is an inevitable part of life?s passage.
It is The Ball that makes me laugh and cry. The Ball was just a thing! We have so many things in our lives. We have houses, and couches, and pillows and toothbrushes. We buy new things, and put old things in closets. We put things on the wall, and we put them in drawers. Things tend to collect in attics and basements until there?s not even room to walk. The Ball was just another thing. But to little Katie, The Ball was imbued with special magic. Magic that made The Ball live. Magic that was found in no other object. Magic only Katie could see.
When Katie was young, and The Ball was new, it seemed all so hopeful. Now I?m fifteen years older. Setbacks and frustrations have pounded optimism. I?ve made new starts and done well. But nothing feels as confident as it used to be. Maybe it?s all just phases of mid-life crisis and I?ll soon become a wizened sage with a shining inner peace. Maybe I?ll just turn into a crabby old man yelling at the neighbors? leaf blower. The passing of The Ball evokes something I thought I was lost, or maybe didn?t know I had. It reminds me of the need for magic, and hope, and the role it has in all our lives.
The Ball was cremated today, Saturday, along with Katie. The ultimate round of fetch has joined the two in a place they will never return from. Katie is free from her painful tumor. The ball is bright and shiny, with a jingle bell ringing in the center. It is alive!
My ex and I will move on with our separate paths. There will be other dogs and cats. Over time the memories will fade. Eventually we will be gone too. Except for this story, Katie and The Ball will be forgotten. Perhaps the magic can remain.
Katie and The Ball
Katie was a little dog. We got her one Saturday. My Ex and I, back when we were together.
I had dogs before that. They were bigger dogs, retriever type dogs. I had to put them down because they were chasing the neighbor kids. I had them when we met, and my Ex accepted them fine, but they were always my dogs. They were energetic and territorial hunting style dogs. I lived on acreage at the time, a little farm. One day the town moved the local elementary school bus stop to be right in front of my dog fence. Seven little kids standing every day right in front of two aggressive fenced in hunting dogs. Not much you can do about that. They were mutts and no one wanted them. Farm life is like that. There are lots of animals, and you have to deal with them. I sadly put them down, and we chose a small breed of dog as a replacement.
One Saturday we drove up north to the breeder. It was about a two hour drive, during which my Ex made clear what expectations we had. Our new dog was never to sleep on the bed. Our new dog would never be allowed on the furniture. Our new dog would be disciplined and trained well, and would be respectful of guests.
And then we bought our new dog. It hardly seemed she was old enough to go home. Her little ears were so tiny and her nose all smushed-in flat. As we drove home, the puppy started crying. My Ex held her close and she nestled in and settled to a sleepy whimper. I asked what we should name her. My Ex said Katherine, after my Grandmother who we had recently visited. I said Katie sounded good. The dog snuggled, and we drove home, and somewhere during the drive, all those rules I had just listened to got left behind.
Katie grew up like any puppy does. She did all the things that puppies do. She peed and pooped in the living room. She chewed on the wood furniture. She destroyed a blanket by eating holes in it. She quickly grew into a fast running energetic bundle of fur. She slept on the bed, jumped on all the furniture, and put her muddy paws on every guest. No one seemed to mind.
One day, I bought a ball. It was a yellow neoprene ball. It had a bell inside and a small round hole so you could hear the bell. There was a waffle grid on the ball. It was in a blister pack at the department store, and cost a couple dollars. At night, after dinner, we would throw the ball across the room. Katie quickly learned to retrieve it, and bring it to be thrown again. This way we could keep her occupied while we relaxed in the evening.
Katie always reacted as if the ball had special magic. She acted as if it were alive, like a little animal. She would fetch it and ?kill it? and bring it back so proudly. It was almost like she said ?I killed it, and now it?s dead, so now you throw it and make it alive again?.
Summer came and went, and so did winter. Katie loved the snow. The yellow ball became old and dirty. We washed it, but it wasn?t clean any more. So I picked up a green ball at the grocery store. I brought it home. And I threw the green ball.
Katie ran to sniff it. She sniffed again. Then came back without it.
I figured it was the color. Dogs are color blind, but I figured Katie just didn?t like the green ball. Maybe it tasted bad. Maybe it didn?t smell right.
So I bought another yellow ball. But Katie would not bring it back either. I bought a ball with a bell. I bought some balls without bells. I bought tennis balls, and plastic balls and every ball in every store. For Katie, none of these balls had the special magic to become ?alive? for fetching.
To distinguish the original ball from Katie?s many other balls we started calling it ?The? Ball. ?There?s a ball on the couch and one in the kitchen but ?The? Ball is in Katie?s basket?, we would say.
Katie grew older, and so did The Ball. It cracked a bit and the bell fell out. But for Katie, it wasn?t the bell that made it The Ball.
The neoprene dried out and it stopped bouncing. It just made a thud on the floor. But the bounce wasn?t what made it The Ball.
It looked awful, so I tried to wash it. What would our guests think if they saw a dirty rubber ball on the living room floor? Clean or dirty, Katie didn?t care. It wasn?t the look, or color, or smell that made it The Ball.
Sometimes we wouldn?t see it for weeks. But Katie always knew exactly where The Ball was. If you threw a ball for fetch, and tell Katie to ?Go get the ball?, she would ignore what you threw, and burrow in her basket and pull out The Ball instead.
Katie grew up, and so did we. My Ex and I never married and ended up separating after a time for reasons we no longer remember. The Ball didn?t fare well. The rubber continued to dry out, and it started cracking all over. A whole portion of it eventually fell away. It darkened into a grey-brown color. It mostly resembled the ?death star? from Star Wars, a grey-brown half shell with the faint etching from the original waffle pattern.
My career did ok, although not in a straight line. Let?s just say the successes outweighed the failures over time. The house we bought together got sold a year or two after we both had left it. After a time I got married to someone else, and that was five and a half years ago.
Katie grew older. She became possessive as some dogs do. She became very insistent on her daily walks, barking and demanding if things were not done on time, or if my Ex stopped to talk to a neighbor. There was never a question on who ran their house, or who was in charge of the schedule. I visited them now and then. Sometimes for a holiday, or sometimes for a party. They visited us as well.
Katie became very old. This past year, she got a tumor in her bladder. When discovered, the tumor was already too advanced to be removed. Drugs were useful in reducing the size and keeping her comfortable. Through this past summer she seemed to be ok most of the time. On most days she still insisted on her walks and was still running household activities.
Last Tuesday, Katie took her last walk. Here tumor had grown to restrict her hind legs. She has been walking stiffly for a year, and lately her back was more and more hunched to as the tumor filled her insides. On Tuesday she was barely out the door, squatted to pee as female dogs do, and fell over with a groan. She was unable to support herself. After that she lay on the couch. My Ex called me to see her. ?It is time?. I went to pet little Katie, and I think she still recognized me after a time. She could follow our talking. That was all. She had become a living head and shoulders on a body that could no longer function. She hadn?t eaten for a couple weeks, and was barely able to drink.
I drove the two of them to the veterinarian on Friday. There really wasn?t a need to consult with the doctor. Katie was fifteen and a half years old. Most dogs have a life span of twelve years, so Katie was like 100 in dog years. Even if she didn?t have a tumor, dogs just don?t live that long, so there?s little need to ask for dramatic measures. While we were waiting I asked my Ex where she would be buried. My Ex replied that there was a pet cremation service, and that Katie would be cremated along with her blanket and, of course, ?The Ball?.
And that?s when I really lost it. Half laughing and half crying the emotions of years passed through me.
?The Ball?? I asked. ?You can?t possibly have saved that old ball all these years!?
?I had to?, said my Ex. ?She never would fetch anything else?.
And then the Vet came in, and she sedated Katie. She then injected her. We all waited a few minutes and the Vet checked her heart and lungs, and they were silent.
No one lives forever. If you are young enough to to handle a kitten or a puppy, you will likely outlive the death of that dog or cat. Katie was a cute puppy, a rollicking adult and a manipulative oldster. It has been hard to see her decline. But her decline is an inevitable part of life?s passage.
It is The Ball that makes me laugh and cry. The Ball was just a thing! We have so many things in our lives. We have houses, and couches, and pillows and toothbrushes. We buy new things, and put old things in closets. We put things on the wall, and we put them in drawers. Things tend to collect in attics and basements until there?s not even room to walk. The Ball was just another thing. But to little Katie, The Ball was imbued with special magic. Magic that made The Ball live. Magic that was found in no other object. Magic only Katie could see.
When Katie was young, and The Ball was new, it seemed all so hopeful. Now I?m fifteen years older. Setbacks and frustrations have pounded optimism. I?ve made new starts and done well. But nothing feels as confident as it used to be. Maybe it?s all just phases of mid-life crisis and I?ll soon become a wizened sage with a shining inner peace. Maybe I?ll just turn into a crabby old man yelling at the neighbors? leaf blower. The passing of The Ball evokes something I thought I was lost, or maybe didn?t know I had. It reminds me of the need for magic, and hope, and the role it has in all our lives.
The Ball was cremated today, Saturday, along with Katie. The ultimate round of fetch has joined the two in a place they will never return from. Katie is free from her painful tumor. The ball is bright and shiny, with a jingle bell ringing in the center. It is alive!
My ex and I will move on with our separate paths. There will be other dogs and cats. Over time the memories will fade. Eventually we will be gone too. Except for this story, Katie and The Ball will be forgotten. Perhaps the magic can remain.
awprint: RUBY Imagine yourself doing What you love and loving What you do, Being happy From the inside Out, experiencing your Dreams wide awake, 
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