Mind Blind Short Story: The Best Last Day (Kent Version) (Patreon)

Notes:

-This is a saddish story as it deals with Annie and Cass’s final sendoff. (That being said, I gave them eighteen years, which is a lot for shih tzus!). 

-Kenzie is the least likely Mind Blind RO to want children. That being said, I really wanted to do a series of all the ROs interacting with theoretical offspring. If you romance Kenzie and want to imagine your Button as childfree, though, that works out perfectly as well! 

-I contemplated not naming Mari, but the flow was awkward. “Mari” is a placeholder based off the name of Kenzie’s mother, but I honestly think Kenzie would suggest Greek mythology names to match with Antigone and Cassandra. 

* * * *

The girl ran down the driveway, her momentum gaining due to the downward slope. Her father caught her before she toppled forward and faceplanted on the pavement.

“Daddy, I brought it!” The girl held up a dented metal lunchbox that looked more suited for military deployment than a family excursion. Within, several packages of deli meat, two burger patties, and a large slice of carrot cake were prepared for today’s guests of honor. Mari beamed to reveal several missing baby teeth, their newly crowning replacements jutting forward almost horizontally. 

She’d would likely need braces in middle school, her father realized. She was growing up too  fast; it felt like just yesterday that he and Ellery had to keep dog toys in an upper cupboard because baby Mari preferred plastic bones to her pacifier. Locking the toys away hadn’t helped—despite numerous confiscations, Mari had always managed to get her hands on another dog toy. Ferro had jokingly accused his goddaughter of witchcraft, but the truth came out after Ellery watched the baby monitor feed: Antigone and Cassandra, intent on taking care of the household’s newest pup, had been pushing their toys through the bars of Mari’s cradle.

“I did well, right, Daddy?”

Kent snapped back to the present at the note of uncertainty in his daughter’s voice. Quickly erasing his inadvertent frown, he smiled back at her.

“You did great, Turtle,” Kent said, trying not to chuckle at the way Mari’s cheeks puffed up at the nickname. At seven years old, Mari considered herself too dignified for nicknames.

“I was fast,” she complained. “You can’t call me Turtle anymore.”

“Turtles are speedy when they’re underwater,” Kent replied.

Mari squinted at him suspiciously. “Really?”

Kent nodded. “Just like in Finding Nemo.”

Mari didn’t seem completely convinced, but she gave up arguing.

“Annie and Cassie love the beach,” Mari commented as he buckled her seatbelt. She sat in the middle of the backseat between two dog crates. Sticking her chubby hand through the gaps of each crate, she giggled as one of the dogs weakly licked her fingertips. “Right, Daddy?”

“That’s right.” Kent’s chest tightened painfully as he recalled why they were making this trip.

* * * *

Piesburgh Bark Park consisted of fifty-eight acres of land and a shallow lake and was isolated enough that what few reviews found online mentioned being the only people present. Antigone wouldn’t have minded socializing, but Cassandra had never grown fully comfortable around strangers.

It wasn’t exactly the beach, but Mari didn’t seem to mind. Kent paused unpacking the car to watch Mari squeal gleefully as Cass chased her across the grassy field. Perhaps “chase” was an overly generous description, Kent thought with a faint smile. Cassandra hobbled as best she could after her favorite human, but her mobility was limited these days. She’d stopped wanting to go for walks a few months ago, a few weeks after Annie had been diagnosed. Kent had hooked up one of Mari’s old covered strollers to his bike to proximate the experience of their past jogs. The dogs enjoyed the new form of excursions, but it wasn’t the same as it had been back when in the days when they’d run beside him.

After a few minutes of hobbling after Mari, who slowed down to match the dog’s pace, Cassandra flopped down on the grass. She rolled over with a plaintive whine, offering up her belly as tribute, the hair now grey instead of white. Mari knelt down to gently pet her, and Kent’s heart expanded to the size of Utah at total adoration in Cass’s watery brown eyes as she squinted happily at his daughter.

Antigone’s favorite person had always been Ellery, but Cassandra had surprised everyone with how deeply the infamously hostile dog bonded with Mari. Kent wished, not for the first time, that at least one of the dogs could remain by his daughter’s side.

A small yip emerged from crate still within the car: Annie, waking up from her nap.

“Does Annie want to go in the water now?” Mari asked innocently as he retrieved Antigone from the car. He looked over to find her holding a contented-looking Cass. Upon seeing her sister, Antigone let out a happy-but-wheezy bark.

“That depends on if you can help me with them,” Kent told Mari. “Annie and Cassie aren’t so good at swimming anymore.”

“Because they’re old, right?”

“That’s right.”

Mari nodded sagely. “Like you.”

Kent’s sputtered cough caused Annie to worriedly lick the back of his hand.

“Not like me,” he corrected as they made their way down to the lakeside. “Annie and Cassie . . . they’ve lived a really long time for dogs.”

Mari frowned. “But aren’t you older than them?”

“Dogs and people don’t age at the same rate, Turtle.” Kent smiled sadly at his daughter. “Remember what we talked about the other day?”

Mari’s lips flattened in a pout. At times when most children would scream or cry about life being unfair, Mari always shut down. On occasions such as this, she reminded Kent of himself before he’d met El. Thus, Kent recognized that his daughter’s refusal to speak wasn’t an indication of indifference. Far from it.

Kent shifted Antigone so that he was holding the shih tzue with only one arm. With his free hand, he wordlessly reached out and stroked the top of his daughter’s head. Mari leaned into his touch, and her stoic expression shifted to sadness.

“Today is their goodbye party,” she whispered.

Kent kept petting the top of her head. El had once accused him of treating their daughter like a dog, but Mari never seemed to mind. If anything, physical touch seemed to soothe her just as it did Antigone and Cassandra. Besides, find the right thing to say was far harder than providing quiet affection.

When they reached the water, Mari stood up straighter. Kent’s hand dropped back down to his side. When had his little girl grown so tall?

“We should act happy,” Mari announced. “It’s Annie and Cassie’s party, so we should act happy.”

Not just tall but mature as well. Despite his sorrow, Kent couldn’t keep his lips from curving into a small but proud smile.

“Let’s help them go swimming, then.” He glanced at his daughter teasingly. “Maybe you should jump in the lake as well, and we’ll see if Antigone or Cassandra can swim faster than a Turtle.”

“Daaaaaaaad,” Mari groaned in an exasperated tone that sounded more like it belonged to a thirteen-year-old than a seven-and-three-quarters-year-old.

She really was growing up too fast.

The pond was more a glorified puddle than a proper body of water: the diameter couldn’t have been longer than a fishing line cast. It was shallow, though, and thus the perfect depth for Cassandra to wade straight in and attack a combatant lilypad with a ferocious growl. Mari plunged in after with a high-pitched giggle, and Kent rolled up his slacks so that he could hold Antigone in the water. Her paws paddled futilely, barely strong enough to create ripples, but Kent moved her around so that she felt like she was accomplishing something.

Kent had never been preoccupied with the notion of dignity, but even he had to admit that they were likely a ridiculous sight: a tall, shoeless man with his pants rolled up to his knees and hunched over in the middle of a puddle while helping a too-skinny shih tzu pretend to swim. Annie exhausted herself after only a few minutes, but her self-satisfied smile over “swimming” reminded Kent of his wedding day when she’d proudly gifted him with a squirrel carcass. (Despite Ellery’s disgust, Antigone’s heartfelt offering remained Kent’s favorite wedding gifts. Far better than the blender gifted to them by his brother-in-law.)

As Cass and Mari frolicked in the water, Kent once again couldn’t help but selfishly wish that at least one dog could stay behind. For Mari’s sake. Still, the veterinarian had suggested letting Annie and Cass go together, and Kent had to reluctantly agree that it would be too cruel to force one dog to live through the pained confusion of losing her lifelong companion all for the sake of one or two additional months of low-quality existence. Deciding to release both at the same time was the most agonizing decision of Kent’s life, not barring his decision to cut off his father, but he had no doubt that it was the right choice. For Annie and Cass, if not for his own heart.

Then again . . . Kent’s gaze fell back upon Mari as she chased through the shallow water after Cass.

Kent’s heart would recover, even after Antigone and Cassandra were no longer around to guard it.

* * * *

Annie snoozed fitfully on Kent’s lap as he let his pants dry in the sunlight. After about half an hour of splashing around, Cass emerged from the pond as well. Mari followed, equally soaked, and both daughter and dog dried themselves off with full body shake. Mari lay down on her back beside Kent, and Cass sleepily curled up atop her belly.

Despite its minute size, Kent deemed that the pond had been perfect. Annie and Cass were too old and frail to brave Lake Michigan anymore; the wake of a kayak would’ve been enough to sweep them away. Kent felt old as well. Numerous gymnastic injuries in his youth had resulted in mild arthritis in mid-thirties. He could forget about it during Summer, but his joints always ached a bit in Winter. Today, despite it being unseasonably warm for Spring, his left elbow throbbed.

Added to that the increasing amount of gray hairs which Kent was finding in his hairbrush, it was no wonder that Mari’s earlier comment about his age had hit home.

Granted, the ache in his elbow could also have been the result of spending all last night petting Annie. The old girl never slept for over an hour at a time these days, even with painkillers. She needed him or Ellery nearby or else she started whimpering. El had helped cover for Kent’s shifts at Aeon so that he could take these last two weeks off work to be by her and Cass’s side at home, but it still didn’t feel like enough time.

It could never be enough time.

Enough, Kent sternly told himself. Stop moping. Today is supposed to be a good day. The best day.

He owed the girls as much. Without Annie and Cass barking their heads off over a decade ago, he would never have fallen in love with El. Without Ellery, Mari would never have entered his life.

Kent owed his entire world to those two shih tzus.

“Why do dogs have to die?” Mari asked, gazing at the clouds drifting lazily above.

Kent had been anticipating (and dreading) this question; he and Ellery had even practiced his response last night over the phone despite her being on assignment. He still wasn’t sure whether his answer would be the right answer, but El said that honestly was the best path.

“Dogs get old,” Kent said. “Eventually, they get so old that their bodies don’t work. Annie and Cass are in a lot of pain, so the vet is going to help them die peacefully.”

“Are you going to die?”

Exactly how ancient did his daughter believe him to be?

“Eventually,” Kent conceded. “But not for a long, long time. You’ll be old as well by the time that I die.”

Mari fell silent as if unable to imagine such an absurd notion as adulthood. “Why do people have to get old, then?” she demanded. “Why do Annie and Cass have to be old?”

Shit. This, Kent hadn’t practiced with Ellery.

“Dogs get old and die that new dogs can be born,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “It’s the same for people.”

“What do you mean?” Mari’s voice sounded stuffy.

“Think about it. What would the world be like if no one ever died?”

“Everyone would be happy,” Mari sniffled. “Because everyone would still have their dogs.”

“Maybe,” Kent conceded. He saw her point: dogs deserved immortality. “But the Earth has been around for a long time. Can you imagine what if would be like if all the animals and people who ever existed had to live together?”

The silence stretched on so long that Kent glanced over to make sure that Mari hadn’t fallen asleep. She hadn’t, but her grey eyes, identical to his own, shone with unshed tears. She wouldn’t cry, though, not until they got back home. Mari had said it herself: today was the dogs’ party, so she would act happy for their sake.

“Dinosaurs would still be around,” Mari finally announced with all the solemnity of a judiciary decision. “They’d eat everyone.”

“Not just dinosaurs,” Kent said, suppressing a chuckle. “Woolly mammoths and sabretooth tigers, too.”

“Dodo birds!”

“And lots and lots of people. There’d be no space for anyone new. People would be stacked on top of each other.”

“That’s silly,” Mari countered. “We could always colun—colonee—”

“Colonize?” That had been one of her school vocabulary words.

“Yeah! We could colonize new planets.”

“We don’t have the technology to do that yet,” Kent said. “But a planet filled with dogs isn’t a bad idea.”

Both father and daughter fell quiet, equally enthralled by the prospect of such a paradise.

“Daddy?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Turtle.”