The death of a family pet is always a trauma. However, sometimes that inevitable trauma is relieved by a most unlikely circumstance that somehow ameliorates the sadness of the occasion.
The family pet was a much-loved, tail thumping, sooky old Labrador named Allie, whose only two sins in his behavior patterns during his life was to bark at people wearing large hats and sometimes embarrassing his family by his inbred desire to rescue bathers from the sea.
He contracted arthritis in his back legs at the age of fifteen years and went downhill rapidly until he was almost completely immobile. Groaning became his chief occupation. Drugs did nothing for him, so driven by concern for his well being, our family assembled one day and, unlike our nervous politicians, we unanimously passed the Euthanasia Bill in my backyard. We thought it for the best and the vet thought it for the best and we presumed that poor old Allie would agree.
The following day after a lot of pampering and soothing words we took him to the vet who injected him with a lethal drug. Within a few seconds his groaning stopped and I’ll swear to this day that his last breath was a sigh of gratitude.
I had prepared a grave for him and bought a pencil pine to plant on top but our family couldn’t assemble until the following Saturday. The vet told us that he put Allie’s body in the cooler until then. What he didn’t tell us was that his cooler was set very low for when we picked up his body two days later poor old Allie was quite frozen inside a stiff plastic orange bag.
It’s what we use for such occasions, the vet told us. People find it less confrontational.
We carefully settled Allie in the back of my daughter’s wagon and off we went to the burial site in my back garden relating ‘remember how’ stories of the dog’s life on the way.
At the time I lived in Warwick Street just above Argyle and anyone who knows the area will realize it is quite steep. I’m not quite sure what happened when we lifted Allie out of the boot. Perhaps we were distressed at the occasion and not quite concentrating. Whatever, his body suddenly slid out of the plastic bag and took off down the street at a rate of knots that he’d never acquired during his life.
We watched in awe as his frozen body slid into the traffic in Argyle Street - running a red light I might add. I could hear brakes squealing, horns tooting and shouts of disapproval and disbelief issuing from inside the cars that were banking up behind each other.
The iced up carcass of Allie finished up in the gutter twenty metres beyond the intersection. Two young girls hanging over a picket fence added to the mayhem with a duo of high-pitched screaming as they bolded indoors when they realized the thing sliding their way was a frozen dog.
Several cars were jammed together because their drivers had climbed out to see what it was that had run out in front of them. Others, further back, began tooting impatiently. Road rage was pending.
When the cops turned up a few minutes later one took to sorting out the traffic and the other walked down to where my daughter and I were trying to slide the dog back into his bag.
He stood in front of us with arms folded, trying to take in what was going on. An older cop he was who thought he’d seen it all, but hadn’t. He cleared his throat and asked me to explain.
Well, I said. It was like this…
Due to the solemness of the occasion he did his best not to smile but I imagined that it wasn’t far away. I also imagined how the bizarre event would be described and relayed around the police station on their return. I mean what could we book him for? There’s no law about keeping a dead dog on a lead, is there? Right, but the dog didn’t have a licence to slide on the Queen’s Highway and it did run a red light! Yeah, sure, but imagine explaining that to a magistrate?
It would make their day.
Back in the real world the older cop who was still holding back his smile said finally: Well no real damage done, though you better bury him quick and try not to do it again, hey!
Yes officer, my daughter said, trying to beat him at his own game. And if we do we’ll be sure the traffic light is on green.
And that made the bugger smile.
Posts
