I stared at the red halo the traffic light made on my windshield, while I let my wrists rest of the steering wheel and my fingers droop down like curtains. I didn’t want to look at the seat next to me. Nah. So my hand felt its way to the beverage holder until it clasped the smooth aluminum surface of a beer can.
The traffic light turned green.
I numbingly stared at a police officer filling paperwork in his car while I drank the sparky beer. It felt good. Both the drink and not getting caught for it. I dropped the can back into the beverage holder and almost jumped when the warm and sandy tongue of Jerry-so familiar to me-wormed through my fingers.
One eye paid attention to the scrolling road while the other peeked at my old friend.
Dang it. First thing I noticed was the whitening hairs sprouting on his muzzle. Was hard to watch. Then I met his sad German shepherd’s eyes, slanted by the passage of time. I avoided the pitiful sight of him and went back to the road. It was like my dog was a person. And maybe he was, in the end.
“It’s ‘cause of you I’m drinking, boy. Big bad habits coming back, as they usually do. Look, don’t make me regret it. We’ve had good times, boy. You ate the leftover spaghetti I wasn’t going to eat, lots of times. You saved me so many garbage bags. They ain’t cheap, you know. You did good when strangers came ringing home. You barked so loud, sometimes even in the dead middle of the night. You woke me up. You did a good job too well.
“You’re useful that’s what I’m sayin’. I’m not sad. Never been sad about anything in my life.”
The plaintive cry Jerry produced forced me to sip at my beer again.
“All the times you pissed on the floor, I slapped ya real good. A needle’s the same, only less painful. I read it on the Internet it won’t be painful. Will last no more than-”
It all happened in a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, like my mind had its curtains of clear-mindedness raised from the stage of inattention.
The red traffic. My foot like dead weight on the accelerator.
And the transport truck smashing into me.
#######
The texture of asphalt grated against my back as I regained consciousness, and I felt a familiar warm nose against my neck as I got pulled from the collar of my shirt...
Away from a steaming pile of flaming gasoline and twisted metal.
I coughed. “That you, boy?”
Almost as obeying an order, Jerry let go of me. He let his old head rest on my chest. His breathing sounded unlike I ever heard it before. Uneven. Warm and liquid.
It was then I noticed the blood pooling on my shirt and the shard of glass digging into Jerry’s neck.
I scratched the top of his head as gently as I could, careful not to upset the wound.
“I’m sorry, boy. I promised ya it wouldn’t be painful. At least, let me be a good boy to you.”
And I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear watching as I pushed the shard of glass deeper into his neck.
Bloodhound dogs have a keen sense of smell and have been used since the Middle Ages to track criminals.
Yeowww...That shard of glass...but, it actually brought back a memory to me of a similar time in life, near the 'end' for an old friend of mine.
P.S. Up-voted by @angryman for being honest with 'Best Pet Tribute' contest submission run by @averageoutsider
Glad you enjoyed it!