What Once I Was

Chapter 15

I knew Rover was dead. He lay in his bed, stiff and cold, looking as though he were sleeping. My poor boy. He'd been alone when he needed me and Robert the most.

My chest ached at the thought of him suffering with no one about to hold his paw. Robert needed to know. With trembling hands, I hit the call button and waited. Voicemail.

"Robert, please, you need to come home. It's... it's Rover. Please come back."

Tears choked the last few syllables. I hoped he'd play the message. That he'd come home. My fingers flexed, unsure whether to hold Rover, to rock him at the foot of the stairs as I had done Naomi all those years before.

"My baby. My poor, poor baby."

With my face buried in the scruff of his neck, I allowed the tears to fall, waiting patiently for Robert to come home, to help me give our beloved family member a proper burial. While I waited, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flood in.

————-

Naomi had been gone for a little under a year when I had seen the advertisement for a litter of West Highland White Terrier pups. It had been love at first sight for me. Rover was at the back of the pen with a much too large for his face carrot chew toy hanging out of his mouth. With a price tag of over one thousand pounds, Robert had taken a little more convincing. I'd told him I needed the puppy, that the companionship would be me cope with the grief of losing Naomi, the guilt of what we had done. I think that's what eventually caused Robert to give in.

Shopping for everything a puppy might need had been significantly more fun than when Robert and I had poured into endless shops looking for things to prepare for Naomi's birth. For the first time, I felt like my maternal instincts were going to be of use. I know that that statement is... absurd for want of a better word, but with Naomi I had lacked something that I never found before Rover.

"You're coming home with us. Yes, you are. You are. Who's a good boy?" I had cooed and giggled as the tiny ball of white fur clambered on my lap, smothering me with affection.

I'd watched him with all the adoration of a proud mother as he nuzzled about the house, leaping onto furniture and yapping at our feet. Even Robert had stood leaning against the living room door with the first smile he'd worn since that awful night. Rover had helped bring us closer together, even if it was only temporary. Our mutual love and the healing he provided us had given us both a new lease on life.

There had been a huge disagreement between Robert and me about Rover's sleeping arrangements. I had wanted him in the bed with us, to have free rein over the entire house. Robert did not agree.

"They invented dog beds for a reason. He can sit on the sofa, but I draw the line at sharing a bed with a dog."

I'd begged, pleaded, found countless articles that reiterated my point, but to no avail. Robert had won yet another argument. Not that I let it keep me from sneaking Rover into our room at any opportunity that presented itself.

—————-

Still cradling Rover, a hysteric laugh erupted. What a wonderful fourteen years we'd had with him. Poking my big toe through a hole in the top of my grey slippers, I smiled. Shoes never lasted long in our house, the taste too intoxicating for Rover even as he became older and weaker. We'd spent so much money on every kind of dog toy that shops had to offer, yet none held Rover's heart as much as Robert's old Reebok trainers. After a while, Robert and I had resorted to keeping shoes we'd worn through so that Rover had something to chew on, all of our other shoes closed away in a cupboard inside the porch. It saved us so much money.

There was this one time, when Robert had been away from home for work, Rover and I had spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed watching reruns of Friends. It was around the anniversary of Naomi's death and I'd been feeling particularly guilt ridden that year, so had taken a leave of absence at work. Robert was never home at that time of year, often telling me the house harboured too many memories. I, as was usual in those moments, had not been up to the task of cooking and so had ordered takeout after takeout, the evidence scattered about the room leaving an odour that lingered for almost a week. Rover had happily wolfed down scraps of meat and vegetables, never one to turn his nose up at food. I had needed him more than he had needed us.

He truly was my comfort blanket, the being I leaned on through every hurdle life had to give. I wasn't sure how I would cope without him. The thought of another puppy to fill the void left a sour taste in my mouth. Rover was irreplaceable. I clutched at the pain in my chest. The house was too quiet, too still. I thought, ever so briefly, about sitting next to Rover and watching Friends just for old time's sake, but I just couldn't bring myself to fake a laugh when my heart ached as deeply I feared it might truly break.

"Oh, my sweet boy. What am I going to do now?"

He had become heavy, far more than I ever would have anticipated. Pulling him deeper into my arms, I carried him into the living room before placing him on his spot on the sofa. Carrying Rover was so very different to Robert carrying Naomi. The weight of the situation was significantly more distressing. It's an odd concept I know, the death of a pet earning more of an emotional response than that of a child you had borne into the world, but I'd much longer with Rover. An entire lifetime to watch him grow and form memories. I'd never admit this to another soul well, except for you, I suppose. Other people could never understand it.

I lay a blanket over him to try and stop the cold. A quick glance at my phone told me what I already knew; there was no message from Robert. Still, I had hope he would come back and soon. Rover deserved to have everybody who loved him present at his funeral.

With nothing else to do but wait, I kept myself busy finding his favourite blanket and shoes, praying Robert wouldn't deny him the worn pair of trainers. It was the least we could do. His food, or rather what he had left in the bottom of the bowl, I emptied into the bin so that I could at least wash his dishes. We no longer had a need for them, nor his toys or bed. I told myself they'd be graciously accepted at a dog shelter, that Rover's passing would at least bring some joy to another animal.

He had loved other dogs, even the big ones that dominated the local park. Everyone who happened to meet him had instantly warmed to the little ball of energy, begging them for treats and petting. We'd become rather fond of the regulars we bumped in to, especially an older woman, Edna and her Pomeranian Sally. The two would create such mischief, burrowing through fencing so that Edna and I had to chase after them. A small, sad smile crept upon my face. It was to be a difficult adjustment not taking those daily walks with him.

He needed a speech. It wasn't a funeral without one. I was better with words than Robert, so naturally the task would fall on me.

"The many years I spent with Rover were filled with laughter and love. He was so much more than just a dog. He was my child. I loved and cared for him just as a mother would someone she spent nine months growing."

Something black! I needed to find something black to wear. When we had buried Naomi, I'd paid little heed to the clothing on my back. This time, the thought of anything inappropriate being on my body left me seething. I knew I had a black pantsuit in the wardrobe. It just needed ironing. Robert had still not made any communication with me, so I felt it was safe to assume I would have ample time to get everything ready.

As the steam hissed, I hummed and jigged along to the radio. For just the briefest of moments, I thought I had heard Rover padding down the stairs. I'd almost run forward with my arms outstretch before the cruel truth winded me. I would never hear that sound again. Never again would I feel the roughness of his tongue against my cheek after Robert and I fought. I'd never sneak scraps of toast beneath the table when Robert's attention was elsewhere. I would never get to do anything I loved again. My sole companion was gone.

A car drove on gravel outside, the headlights streaming through the net curtain. A door slammed, the gravel moving beneath hasty feet. He was through the door, out of breath and red faced. His jacket, torn and creased, hung low on one shoulder. He came towards me, hands on the wall for support. When he was but inches from where I stood, I fell into his arms. We sobbed, bodies trembling as one.

"Where is he?" Robert asked, his voice almost lost in the folds of my neck.

Without uttering a word, I took Robert's hand in my own and ushered him into the living room. He took the few steps towards the sofa before his legs gave way beneath him. His body bobbed up and down, an inhumane wail ripped from his chest. I'd only ever seen him in such a state once before. And like back then, I knew nothing I could say would ease the pain he felt. No amount of duct tape could fix what had been broken.

We needed each other. More than we ever had before. To lose a child and our family dog was more pain than I would ever wish on anyone.