It
was the kind of summer that bragged of long days
and warm memories, of swimming at the beach and
spending lazy afternoons asleep in a hammock
beneath the shade of the giant cotton willows
that grew in our backyard. A time for
carnivals and cotton candy, for ice cream in the
park, and for having nothing more to do than
cruise around on hot sleepless nights in our
parents '64 Impala. With the breeze
brushing against my face, and the wind racing
through my hair, I'd howl from the pure
testosterone that pumped through my body as the
car sped through the streets.
I
never wanted to go home on those nights and would
have ridden around the whole night through if I
could. Sometimes, with the adrenaline
still charging through my veins, I'd sneak out
of the house when I got home, and run around the
neighbourhood with my friends or go skinny
dipping alone in the neighbour's pool.
It
was one of those late night swims that first got
me into trouble, when old Mrs. Rosy Neybor
phoned the cops after she caught me cooling off
in her pool. I can still hear her screams
shatter the midnight hour. I'm not sure
who was more scared, her or me, until my mother
showed up and dragged me home. My mother
turned stark crazy mad that night when she found
out I'd been sneaking out of the house.
"Jack..." she said in her most stern voice,
shaking her head as she looked down at me where
I sat sulking in the kitchen, "You've been a bad
boy."
My
punishment for that innocent dip in the pool was
to be sent to summer school. A cruel and
unusual penalty I thought. And as much as
I didn't want to go, it turned out to be a
magical time in my life. The year was
1967, and it was to become the summer of my
first love. The summer of dreams.
Her name was Cristobel, and she was the smartest
girl in her class at summer school. A year
older than me, she was mature and tall, regal
and proud, with legs that carried her easily
across the floor, like a ballerina floating
through the air. With her honey-blonde
hair dancing in the softest of curls around her
face, she was pretty enough to make an old coon
dog howl at a rising harvest moon.
I
dreamt of spending my life with her, of falling
in love and settling down, starting a family and
having lots and lots of babies that I
could only hope would look like her. But
for all the lonely hearts in the world, she
didn't even know I existed.
I
was just a shy young kid back then, a gangly
teenager with big feet and awkward gait, a big
nose, and even bigger ears that stuck out from
the side of my head. With one brown eye,
and the other a beastly shade of blue, my hair was
wiry and wild, untameable, my mother would say,
a throwback to some unknown ancestor.
I
didn't stand a chance with Cristobel. All
I wanted to do was talk to her, get to know her,
make friends. But her father always seemed
to stand in our way. He was a big man,
with a large voice, a round belly, and even
rounder spectacles. And Cristobel simply
adored him. She hung on every word,
listened with keen attention, and did whatever
he said. He kept her on a especially
tight leash as far as boys were concerned.
I could never get near enough to even say hello.
So
I settled into a routine of loving Cristobel
from afar, while trying to inch my way closer
whenever I could, offering my biggest smile each
time she happened to glance in my direction.
But always my fragile heart was crushed by
unrequited love.
Until one day I was walking in the park with my
mother. As usual, my younger sister was in
tow, close on our mother's heels. My
sister was a scrawny little thing, with short
legs and a squeaky voice that grated on my ears.
She babbled incessantly about everything, went
on and on about nothing at all.
I
was trying my best to ignore my sister's aimless
chatter that day, walking ahead of her and my
mother in the park, ambling through the grass
looking for squirrels or insects to chase or
capture.
When suddenly, it happened!
A
Frisbee, bright and red, sailed through the air
across my path. And close on its trail was
Cristobel, racing to catch it with all the speed
and grace of a slender greyhound. She
caught the Frisbee in midair and returned it to
her father where he stood a few hundred feet
away. I stopped dead in my tracks, my
hearted fluttered wildly with excitement. They
hadn't seen me! Her father threw the
Frisbee again. It caught on the wind and
flew towards the woods that bordered the park.
Cristobel gave chase into the woods.
I
saw my chance and took it. I ran with
breakneck speed toward Cristobel in the woods,
towards my dreams, and my future, I heard
my sister behind me, trying to catch up, yelling
after me in that squeaky little voice of hers,.
But she never stood a chance. My mom was
yelling too, calling me back, but I just ignored
her, knowing somehow that she would eventually
understand. After all, my destiny lay
ahead.
I
darted around trees and prickly underbrush as I
headed toward Cristobel. She looked like a
princess with pink ribbons in her hair and a
matching necklace that bobbed up and down
against her throat as she tried to catch her
breathe. She was just about to pick up the
Frisbee when she saw me. Our eyes locked
across the space of a wild thorn bush. I
stuck out my chest, proud and tall.
"Hi-" I said in my deepest voice. "I'm
Jack."
"Yes, I know," she answered. A shy smile
formed at the corners of her mouth. "I've
seen you at school."
"You know who I am?" I said, incredulous that
she would ever have noticed me. My heart
swelled with joy.
"Sure." she nodded, "I've seen you play ball
during break."
I
was awestruck. "You sure are pretty." I
told her. "The prettiest girl in class."
She blushed beautifully. I rambled on.
"Do you want to play Frisbee with me?"
She shook her head, slowly, looking over her
shoulder toward her father who was quickly
nearing the woods. I didn't want the
moment to end.
"I
really should go, my father is calling."
Panic started to settle in my bones. I
didn't want our time together to be stolen by
her overbearing father, our one chance for love
forever lost in the hands of a cruel twist of
fate. And not knowing what else to do, and
relying on the instincts of those unknown
ancestors my mother always told me about, I
picked up the Frisbee and ran away with it,
deeper into the woods. "Catch me if you
can!" I yelled with reckless abandon. I
would have done anything to have kept her there
with me just a few minutes longer.
To
my utter surprise, Cristobel bounded after me,
her laughter caught on the breeze as though it
were floating on the wings of a dove. It
was sweet music to my love struck ears.
"Hey wait up," she called out.
But in the distance I could hear her father
calling her name. My mother and sister
also joined in the chase, calling for me, but
Cristobel and I were lost in the moment, caught
up in the joy of running free in the woods.
We ran further and faster, ignoring their pleas,
paying no heed to their frantic calls.
"Follow me." I raced down the hill toward
a small clearing in the bush, towards the sound
of rushing water. Cristobel was fast on my
heels when we came upon a small river that
winded through the trees. The water looked
cool and inviting and I didn't hesitate to take
the plunge. I took a few steps in, the
Frisbee dropped by the shore, forgotten.
"Come on in." I said. "It's great."
"I
can't. My father will be furious."
"Come on-" I said again, teasing her.
"Come cool off. Have a drink. I
won't tell. I promise." There was no
sign of her father, no sign of my mother or
sister anywhere other than their faded voices in
the distance.
Cristobel smiled, a pretty smile that crinkled
her face. "I really shouldn't." She
took a step closer.
"It's okay. It's safe. I'll show
you." I went further into the water,
splashing into the air, laughing, showing off.
That's when it happened.
I
slipped on a rock covered with slimy moss and
lost my footing.
In
less time than it took to blink, I fell forward
into the deeper water. No problem, I
thought at first. Until I got caught in an
undercurrent that pulled me under and swept me
away. It was nothing like swimming in the Neybor's pool, nothing like swimming at the
beach. "HELP!" I yelped though a
mouthful of water. I was sinking, bobbing,
unable to stay afloat. Water swirled all
around. I couldn't see the shore, couldn't
tell which way was up, which way was down.
My short life flashed before my eyes. I
wondered if this was the end.
But suddenly Cristobel was there beside me in
the water. She grabbed hold of the back of
my neck, and started to pull me toward shore.
"Hold on!" she said. "We're almost there."
And before I knew it, she managed to drag me
somehow, soaking wet, to the shore.
By
this time, my mother and sister and Cristobel's
father had reached us. Her father was
shouting profanities, my mother dropped to her
knees next to me, sobbing uncontrollably.
My
pesky sister screamed hysterically in my ear.
But none of it matter. I was oblivious to
it all. I had eyes only Cristobel.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?" She kept
saying over and over where we lay by the shore,
her face inches away from mine as she
leaned over me. Droplets of water dripped
from her hair onto my face, her breath was
cool against my skin.
And then she kissed me, lightly, on the tip of
my nose. A sweet, innocent caress that
sent my head spinning. I nearly fainted
from feeling so dizzy with joy. Surely I
had just had a taste of paradise.
But before I could savour in the wonder of the
moment, her father pulled her off of me.
He exchanged some words with my mother, said a
few unpleasant things towards me, and before I
could spew the rest of the water from my mouth,
he dragged Cristobel away, up the hill, and out
of the woods.
That quick and it was over.
I
don't remember much of what happened next.
Everything is still a fog in my memory.
All I know is that when I woke up from that "little procedure" I could feel an ache
between my legs. The place that used to be
warm and private was now cold and empty.
That's when I realized I had been neutered!
I
howled like a baby. What have they
done? Surely it must be a mistake?
But reality started to hit me. Fast.
For the first time, I truly understood.
I
was a dog!
A
rangy bob-tailed mongrel of all things.
It
all made sense now. It explained so much.
The tickling behind the ears, the unknown
ancestors, the love of car rides, the howling.
Everything added up to one perfect conclusion
But that could only mean one thing.
My
beloved Cristobel was also a dog.
A
beautiful blonde Standard Poodle, I'd later find
out. No wonder I'd fallen so easily in
love. It was hard not to. She was
perfect, with her long proud legs, curly hair,
and deep brown eyes.
I
realized too, that my sister was a dog. A
squeaky little Yorkshire Terrier of all things.
It explained why my mother called her "Pudding"
all the time.
Things have never been the same since. Ten
years have passed and I'm getting old now,
settling nicely into retirement, enjoying the
memories of the glory days of my youth.
My time is spent out on the porch or in the
garden watching the sun rise in the mornings,
and settle in the long golden sky at night.
Life has changed all around. Although I
still see Cristobel from time to time in the
park, my dreams of spending my life with her
have faded gradually over time, my love only a
distant spark. Mrs. Rosy Neybor has
passed on, my sister is now my best friend, and
my mother and father have three real babies of
heir own, wonderful kids I simply adore. And
though I'm a bit arthritic in my legs, I still
go to the beach occasionally, and still spend
lazy summer afternoons asleep in a hammock
beneath the shade of the giant cotton willows
that grow in our back yard.
But the tress are taller now, and I, a wise old
dog.
All in
All, in really can't complain.
It is after all, a dog's life!
And I've had a good one.
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