JUST LIKE THAT

She held him in her arms and sat down in a chair crying.

The vet put the needle in him and she told him she loved him over and over and over again, crying and crying, as he fell asleep deeper and deeper till he gasp a last little breath… and was dead.

Just like that, easy as pie….. Euthanized.

And she handed him over to the vet sobbing and sobbing and sobbing…. wimpering like a hurt little child.

And then when she stood up one of the girls there held her and comforted her broken heart.

And then she left crying, and crying all the way home, and long after she got home.

He was her baby for ten long years. And she looked at his pretty face everyday for ten years. And his face was still pretty when he died.


Six months passed by when one day she said, "You know, I think I want a kitty, can we get a little kitty, I don't think I want a puppy again cause it hurt me too much when he grew old and got sick and had to die. Can we get a kitty?" And the answer was an adamant No!


And two more months went by when one day she put in a tall order, and in a demanding voice:
"Look! I want a new chair,
I want a house,
I'm tired of working.
Why don't you get a job?
Why don't you go to work and let me stay home.
Look at me, she said,
I want a kitty and I want a new doggie
and a bird and a fish tank full of fishes
and a house with some room
and a car of my own……
and I want a new dress too,
and a new diamond ring,
and ten new pairs of shoes,
I want everything,
but all you ever want to do is write since you lost your damn job and put me out to work. And five years now I've been working and working and nothing's going anywhere with you and that stupid writing stuff, and maybe that's why I still love my little doggie so much and I still miss him more and more everyday. Can I just get a new puppy again at least?"


"OK, OK, sure, I give up sweety, I'll let you have a new puppy," the writer said, "if you just let me stay home here and write a little longer and you keep right on working so I can become another Hemmingway and then maybe someday I'll buy you a new home, a new car, and a ranch with horses and dogs and kitties ….anything and everything you ever wanted. "But you've been writing for five long years and nothin's doing nothin, I didn't mind it so much when I had my little doggie to come home to, but now he is gone, and I'm lonely, and every thing seems to be going nowhere"


"Well, I thought you liked to work sweety," the writer said, "and you said before, when I lost my stupid job, you didn't want to stay home anymore anyhow, and I don't want to work anywhere anymore now, I just want to try to be a writer now, you know I've always wanted to be a writer, there's nothing for me in a damn job out there in today's damn world anyway. Say, why don't you be the writer and I'll be the worker? Ha, but you can't write sweety…. so you see it wouldn't work out at all sweetheart…. so you just be like Theo and I'll be like Van Gogh, you remember the story of Van Gogh, don't you, how his brother Theo supported him so he could paint? And then maybe you can have a new puppy, even two puppies...... I'll throw in two, if you just leave me alone for a little while longer. Will you be like Theo and let me be like Van Gogh, the artist?"


And sweety said, "Well, for just a little while more, but not forever and ever, so when can we go look at some puppies, and maybe a kitty and a new chair? "


"Maybe tomorrow", the writer said," but no kitties, no chairs, no dresses, no shoes, no rings, no fish, no birds, sweety. And don't ask me to look at damn houses again, I told you before that a house has to wait. This little apartment here is OK for right now, and a house is not anymore a home then this cozy little place is right here, because if I love you and you love me sweety, anywhere is home. And I do love you and you love me, so this little joint is good enough for now, and maybe even forever if it has to be, OK?"


"Well the answer can't be maybe," said sweety, "it has to be yes, can I get a new puppy then tomorrow for sure? And I want the same kind of puppy I had," she said. "And," she added, " I thought it all over again about a different breed of dog, and I want one just like him; I want it to look and act just like him. Do you think I can find one just like him that I can love him just like him? And he lived for ten long years, and I still have his water pan and his food dish and his cute little sweater to go out in the snow for a walk, and I still love him…. and my heart still hurts. Is the answer yes, for sure?"


"Tomorrow", he said, "for sure, tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'll start looking, I promise, I promise, I promise."


"And I want to find one just like him," she said, excitedly. "Sure, sure," he said, but let me alone now, I'm working on a brand new story now, damn it."

***

Tomorrow comes, and right off he's busy writing, banging away at his old typewriter as usual. And acting as if he did not want to be bothered, as usual.


And suddenly standing stiffly behind him, with her hands parked firmly on her hips and in a very loud and forceful tone: "Now, are we still going to go look for a new puppy like you promised? ? ?"


"Well, I said tomorrow, sweetheart, but I didn't say which tomorrow."


"Why are you such a bastard?" sweety screamed, " I'm going out and I'm buying a new dog today whether you goddamn like it or not, goodbye!"


"Goodbye sweety" he said, nonchalantly….. like Gable said, in Gone With The Wind: " Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
And furthermore she said:
"And I'm quitting work too, you lazy bastard, I hate you!"


"Alright, alright, I'll let you in on a little secret, sweety, I already got you a pretty little doggie, but it's not yet weaned, but it will be in one more week or so, I wanted to surprise you," he said, exasperatedly, "but now you've spoiled it."


"I know you all too well, you liar." she said.


"No, no, it's for real, it a rich man's dog, a Maltese; hey, wait till you see it, you will love it sweety, and on top of that I just sold my first short story."


"And for how much and how much is the dog?"


"Well, let's say it's about a break even deal, sweety, with enough left for us to go out to dinner and champagne."


"Sure, I'll believe it all when I see it" she said, though in a nicer calmed down tone.

………… Exactly one week later she came home from work and there was the cutest damn little puppy dog she had ever seen in her whole life. And she cried, and she told him she loved him over and over again and she told the little girl puppy she loved her over and over again too. And two months later it ran right out in front of a car. Dead and gone— Just like that! And about two months after that, after eleven years of marriage, she finally became pregnant. From barren to fruitful. Just like that! And about a month after that the writer got a job, just like that, and one that paid quite well, and one that was secure, though one that he did not like, and never would, and his pen was put to rest…….Just like that, easy as pie. And quickly then two more children came, and a roomy home of their own, and puppy dogs and grown dogs, and all the accouterments of having a good wife and family and a good paying job can bring a man. And the pen slipped further and further from his reach. And the dream, as it were, slowly fizzled into the fog of time passing and a busy family life, though it never really died. And now, twenty five years after the birth of his last child, and retired now, the writer reaches again for his pen, a grayed haired tired out man of sixty three years of age, to resume where he left off so long ago. ………… Ha! I am that man, Yes, it is I! Me! The writer who writes this, the author on whose life this little story is based on, but it's mostly fiction, a little cocktail of imagination with maybe an olive of truth thrown in here and there. After all, being a writer of fiction, my job is to entertain the reader, so it's mostly all made up, but still, to make a believer out of you the reader, let me conclude with this one last paragraph, a little confession in conclusion: I never did sell that short story as I told her I did, my "sweety," way back there long ago, but then again, she didn't really give a damn if I did or didn't anyhow back then. Maybe she will now, maybe she'll give a damn If I sell a story now, I don't know. And she never did hold me to that dinner and champagne promise back then. And, you know, things are now just like that, the way they were back then: No kids, the kids are all grown up and gone; she's lonely as hell again; our dog of last just bit the dust a few months ago, and now I think she wants a new puppy again. Oh, one more thing, I got that cute little Maltese, a rich man's dog, through an acquaint- tance of mine, and for nothing too. One last thing, I'm going to be able to write now without interruptions, I don't need a damn job, and she can't get pregnant anymore. Another puppy dog? "Sure sweety, any time you're ready" that's what I'll say when she gets over this last one. Maybe two even.

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