Day of the Dog

The Forest and the Dog

When we arrived home, I flung open the car door and ran into the house, back to my bedroom. Panting, I turned to my closet and opened the door. Sitting cross-legged, I opened a small mahogany chest near the back of the room.

A small, almost comforted breath escaped my lips as I felt the rough, raw wood. The chest had been my mom’s, and touching it almost felt like touching a part of mom. Almost. Undoing the lock with a small golden key in my pocket, I looked inside the chest. There were pictures, a shell comb, and a small, golden locket. They were all small treasures, but Mom’s treasures. But now mom was gone. This time, instead of a gasp, a wail escaped my lips. I stared at the first photo. In it was my Mom with her usual soft brown curls and smile, wearing nothing special, just a plain white dress. But still she seemed to glow with radiance. Beside her, Dad stood; alight with happiness, holding a small bundle that was me. I had not seen Dad so happy in months. After skimming through a couple more pictures, it became too much for me to bear. Salty tears ran down my cheeks.
                 It had all been because of cancer. The tumors had started in her lungs, and then grew and grew. They tried everything; chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, and all different drugs. But everything wasn't enough. All of a sudden, I had this hallow feeling in my heart, and I felt almost light. Like I was going to drift away and just...die.
        The memories were just too much. The memories took me back of when we were still a whole family. The next moment, I found myself in the small forest by my house. I’d been going to the forest a lot since Mom died, mainly because she loved it there. As I walked in between the towering trees, I felt a little better, as if the trees were protecting me. I watched rays of sunlight peek through the leaves. Small squirrels scurried about, and a constant chirping filled my ears. I walked up to a small pond that appeared after a slight turn. Lilly pads decorated the clear, shining water, and brightly colored fish swam about. Before Mom died, we used to spend whole days in the forest. Dad would bring a picnic basket and we would spend the day hiking, wading in the pond, and looking for interesting animals. But ever since Mom died, Dad started avoiding the forest, and I went by myself.

        Suddenly, in the depth of my thoughts came a faint whining. "Arrrrwww!" it called. "Arf! Arf! Arf! Arrrrwwwww!" My head jerked up suddenly. What was that? I wondered. Following the wails of pain, I headed deeper into the forest. By the time I reached a small glade, I was sure the sounds were coming from a dog, or a puppy. Then I saw it. Nestled in the tall grasses lay a tiny golden puppy, caught in a hunters trap. I felt a surge of hatred to the hunters, for they had hurt such an innocent thing. Running forward I picked up the puppy. Whimpering pathetically, it licked its wound. As I ran back home as fast as I could, my hands quickly became stained with blood. When I reached Dad’s bedroom, I pounded on the door.