A New Leash on Life

Note to the reader, to read the first part of Gillian’s story, please read or re-read “For the Love of Jax.”

Nine months ago, I loaded up my car and drove west to Seattle for my first job. Nine months. It was the longest I had ever been away from home. Now, as my plane flew east towards Burlington, I squished my nose into the window trying to glimpse Lake Champlain and the ski resort trails etched into the familiar rolling slopes of home.

My new job was busy. I was continually astonished that I was getting paid to tell companies what to do. I knew nothing about financial services or consumer spending habits. But, that’s what consulting was all about, everyone said. I didn’t think it was going to be my permanent job, but for now, it paid the bills and let me explore the tall peaks of the Cascades to the south and the Olympics to the north. But I missed the gentler rolling Green Mountains of home.

Had I delayed the visit home because of Jax? Dad had told me on the phone about Jax’s final days and how he and the vet kept her pain free and feeling loved. But she was gone now. What would the house be like without my dog?

“Ladies and gentleman, we are in final approach for Patrick Lahey International Airport. We will be on the ground shortly.”

Right, they changed the name of the airport while I was gone. 

***

I saw Dad as I descended the escalator. Phew, he looks the same. His Red Sox ball cap sat firmly on his head and his smile pierced his beard. I ran into his outstretched arms.

“Hiya, kid. Welcome home.”

“Dad, it’s so good to see you.” I inhaled deeply. The smell of his Old Spice aftershave tickled my nose. 

“What’s new? Tell me everything,” he said.

On the drive home, I did just that: details on the new job, my favorite sushi restaurant, a possible boyfriend, work dilemmas. As always, Dad listened, nodded, and asked insightful questions.

“So tell me about this boyfriend,” he said, singling out only one of my topics.

“Aw, Dad. Who knows. We’ve only had a few dates.”

“As long as you are being careful,” he said. “Guess I can’t interrogate him from this side of the country.”

“Always trying to protect me.”

“It’s my job,” he said. “Always has been, always will be.”

***

When I walked into our house of the past twenty-five years, I gasped out loud. 

Dad noticed my noise and my eyes roaming the living area. “I know. I’ve got some filing to do.”

Stacks of papers surrounded his chair at the kitchen table, books were piled tall near Dad’s favorite reading chair, and ashes mounded high in the fireplace, even though it was June. Everything was stacked neatly, but this was new. Something was wrong. Dad, who prided himself on order, was out of order.

“Is everything OK, Dad?” I asked.

“All fine, honey, don’t worry about me.” He patted my shoulder and carried my bag to the bottom of the staircase.

He seemed fine, if not a little messier than usual, so maybe I was reading too much into his cleaning habits. Maybe the house felt different since Jax wasn’t here. My head knew my 12-year-old puppy had died a few months ago, but the reality hit me when she didn’t jump up to greet me, nor bark and slobber in welcome. 

“The house seems quiet without Jax, Dad,” my voice broke a little as I uttered the new reality into existence.

His eyes softened at my statement. “Hey, about a beer on the porch and you can tell me more about this boyfriend?”

Grateful for the distraction, I opened his refrigerator and the bare white intensity of the inside forced me to squint my eyes. I grabbed two Lawsons as I surveyed the lack of vegetables and two takeout containers I was pretty sure were from Mad Taco. 

We headed out to the deck and settled in the Adirondack chairs overlooking the distant mountains of green. The equinox was coming, and the sun still shone high in the sky. We opened our beers and sipped. I savored the tranquility of the green, the Old Spice, and the crisp malt, before asking what was in my heart. 

“So, Dad… How are you?”

He took a sip. “It’s all good. Wood ready for winter already. I’m keeping busy.”

“The frig has beer, so that’s good,” I said.

He nodded.

“But little else,” I said. “What’s up? Are you eating enough?”

He patted his slim belly. “Plenty of calories.”

“I want to make sure you are taking care of yourself, Dad.”

“No use worrying yourself, honey. Now tell me more about Seattle. Is the beer as good out West? And where are you planning to ski come November?”

I sighed and followed his lead. It was my first day back at home. We had a full week to talk about everything.

***

Of course, three days flew by and I didn’t have another easy opening. One of my inner voices was asking why I was afraid to say something. A different inner voice was saying he was a healthy sixty-two-year-old, nothing to worry about, keep things calm. 

I’d tried to poke at his activities, how his friends were doing. Was he still playing weekly poker? But most answers were a non-committal, “all’s good, honey.” I stooped to peeking at his calendar on the desk in his office, but the days were suspiciously blank. Maybe he wasn’t using it anymore?

The phone rang occasionally. He drove his weekly shift for Meals on Wheels. His life was stable, just very, very quiet.

On day four, as I helped him clean out the fireplace from last season’s flames, I noticed a pile of Jax’s old toys in the corner. I picked up a well-chewed stuffed rabbit doll and sat heavily in the chair next to the fireplace. Just looking at the toy brought a sting of tears to my eyes. “I miss Jax, Dad.”

He stopped shoveling and sat down next to me, patting my back. “Me, too, honey. She was a great friend. The soul of our house for a long time.”

The thought struck me so hard, I just blurted it out. “Dad, I know. Let’s get you another dog!”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think so, honey.”

“Come on, Dad. It will be just like old times. A giant fur ball to drive us nuts and love us with licks.” We were sitting kitty corner, knee to knee, near the fireplace. I took his calloused hand with my free hand. “Dad, it looks to me like you are lonely…”

His eyes smiled into mine, “Well, maybe a little… First you, then Jax.” He looked around the room and then back at the stuffed rabbit in my hand. “It is pretty quiet.”

“This is great, Dad. I can fix this. Let’s find one tomorrow. I’ll pull up the site now and we can see who needs a home.”

“Whoa, Gill. I don’t have time for a puppy.”

“We can get a mature dog, Dad. What do you like? Big? Small? Long hair? I know, how about another husky?”

“Gill, I don’t want the problems that come with an older dog.”

“Dad…”

He took his hand out of mine and raised it. “It’s OK, honey. I like the quiet.” He took Jax’s toy out of my hand, stood up, and placed it back in the wicker basket near the fireplace.

“I’ll see you in the morning, honey,” he said as he stooped and kissed my cheek.

I looked at the clock; it was close to bedtime. Maybe he was tired. “OK, Dad. Good night.” I replied. “Pancakes in the morning?”

“You bet,” he said as he left the room.

The moment I heard his footsteps on the stairs, I opened my laptop. Someone needed a home, I was sure of it.

***

After breakfast the next morning, and under the pretense of a desperate need for fresh tofu, I lured Dad into the car. As we drove through Waitsfield center and past our two grocery stores, Dad swiveled in the passenger seat. “Gillian Josy Wilcox, what are you up to?”

I smiled my cutest smile. “Field trip, Dad. I promise you’ll like it.”

“I’m not one for surprises,” he said.

Don’t I know it. “Some surprises are good, right?”

“Hmph” was his answer as he turned to look out the window. We drove down Route 17 for a short while and turned up the steep Number 9 Road to head up Bragg Hill. A few turns here and there and I pulled into a driveway. 

“We’re here,” I said as I opened my car door.

“We are somewhere, that’s for sure,” he said. “Whatever you are up to, I can wait in the car.”

“Come on, Dad,” I pleaded. “Please do this for me.”

His hazel eyes narrowed and stared into mine for a full three seconds. I held my breath. “Please?” 

His eyes softened. “Damn it, how can I say no to a ‘please’?”

I gave him my biggest smile.

We exited the car, crunched across the gravel driveway, and mounted the three steps to the porch. I knocked on the wooden edge of the screen door. “Anyone home?”

“Come on in, it’s unlocked,” a male voice shouted.

We entered the farmhouse. A traditional wide plank wood floor met our toes, and a dark wooden stair and railing beckoned upstairs to our right. The desk against the far wall brimmed with papers. A faded wallpaper of daisies and ferns draped the wall. “Come on back into the kitchen,” the male voice said.

We headed toward the voice and pushed the swinging door open, entering a cozy kitchen with a stove on the right, a bluestone sink under the window, bright yellow curtains, and a bearded man wearing jean shorts and a Phish concert t-shirt sitting on a wooden chair at the table. Next to him, taking up most of the kitchen floor, was a white mesh baby playpen that appeared to be shaking. Even from the doorway, I could see three little puppies rolling and tackling each other in a game of doggie tag. Various yips and growls created the soundtrack. My mouth broke into a huge smile. 

The man stood and held out his hand. “Welcome, I’m Nick. You must be Gillian? Well, here they are.”

I avoided Dad’s eyes, but I felt them bore into my back as I skirted Nick and the table to lean over the pen and scratch the head of the darkest of the three dogs. “Nice to meet you,” I said over my shoulder. “They are adorable.”

“They just hit ten weeks yesterday. Ready for their new homes.”

Dad extended his hand to Nick. “I’m sorry, young man, but I think my daughter has brought us here under false pretenses. You see…”

“Nick, my dad needs a dog,” I interrupted.

“Do not,” Dad said.

“Oh, you so do,” I said.

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

Nick’s eyes ping-ponged between us before he smiled and picked up the puppy I had been petting and placed her into my dad’s hands.

Dad looked at the black puppy with her pink tongue and pink belly. He adjusted his hands to keep the squirming pup from falling and stared at the little ball of fat fur. 

The puppy responded by licking his hands and then peeing, drops dribbling down my dad’s hands and arms and falling to the floor.

Damn it. 

Nick pulled out a clean towel from under the sink and handed to Dad. “Sorry about that. She’s clearly excited.” 

“Oh, Gill, what have you done?” Dad said, shaking his head. He held the puppy up to his eyes and stared into her dark ones. The puppy licked his nose. Dad’s smile shone through his beard. I knew that smile, his blissful smile. 

“OK, puppy, do you promise to nip at any bad boyfriends that Gillian brings home?” he said.

The puppy titled her head.

“And to bark at wild turkeys, squirrels, and snakes, as needed,” he continued.

The puppy yelped a high noise.

 “You, devil,” he said to me.

“She’s so cute, right? We can’t leave her, right? She needs you, Dad.” I said. I stroked the smooth fur on the back of the puppy in his hands. “And maybe you need her a little, too, right?”

“Maybe…” 

“Well, if you were going to take her home, what would you name her?” Nick asked.

Name? I hadn’t thought about a name. I had focused all my energy on getting Dad to this moment, but hadn’t planned for the moments after. We’d need puppy food, a bed, a new leash and all the other puppy paraphernalia.

“Well?” Dad said as he looked at me. “Names are important.”

A stream of options poured out. “Midnight to match her color? Or maybe Nyx the goddess of night?”

“Or maybe just Pee-pee,” Dad said, continuing to wipe his arm. 

I had him. He was hooked. An idea warmed inside of me. “Dad, how did we name Jax?”

He sighed a long breath. “It was so long ago,” he said, pausing to remember. “I think your mom chose it after a character in a book you liked.”

I shook my head. Sheldon, Rory, nor Meredith would work for a puppy. Then the light dawned.

“What about naming her Susan, after mom?” I suggested, peering closely to watch dad’s reaction. 

“Hmmm. Suzie?” Dad asked the puppy, holding her up at eye level. “Are you a Suzie?”

She yipped.

Dad held out his hand to shake Nick’s. “Suzie it is. We will give her a good home.”

“I know you will,” Nick nodded.

Dad swung around to me. “You, kid, are still in trouble.”

But I knew he was lying. His eyes said it all.

“Now you have someone to protect you, too,” I said.

“So you won’t have to worry, right?” he said.

“If you won’t, I won’t,” I said, leaning into his shoulder.