Monday, 21 August 2017

200 words about 'Time'

For this week's creative writing class, we had to write a piece of no more than 200 words about 'Time' based on a competition that we could enter.  For me, the first thing that came to mind was the moment we lost Lucas.  It was B who suggested the opposite end of his life might also be an idea.

So I did both and shared it with my class today.  There were tears and shared stories.  Healing.

Will I submit them to the competition?  No.  Lucas's life was prize enough.

  
A bundle of trouble with ears too long for his soft, plump body. Tongue, teeth and tail that refuse to stay still. Three months old, all the energy and mischief of youth.  Playtime, mealtime, sleep time. Simple pleasures – a life and world filled with smells, tastes and sights to discover.   
How long is forty minutes in puppy years? Enough time to momentarily fret at being left alone in a room much larger than the smaller laundry where he usually slept, surrounded by his toys and a warm bed that comforted him during the night hours.

Destruction.  Thirty-nine long minutes to explore and discover.  Carpet under paw.  Magazines, books, wedding albums, all worthy of a good chew.  Wooden table legs, corners of a coffee table, so delicious to gnaw on.  Remote controls, candles, photo frames discarded. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow – a colourful bowl of wrapped chocolates. No defence against sharp little teeth devouring like a demented piranha.
Like a child eating too many sweets with a tummy ache and feeling sick.  A corner to vomit in, carpet under paw, no time to waste a life ahead to bring joy.

 *******************************************************************************
Morning came, as it tends to do, following an all-night vigil. The miracle we prayed for didn’t. Our beloved constant companion looked at us with pain and confusion in his golden eyes. We stroked his long velvety ears and told him he was very much loved as he thumped his tail on the ground.
Struggling to rise, we helped him outside, his back legs useless.

8.30am came, the call to the vet we did not want to make but knew we must.  The short trip took forever, although it wasn’t long enough – could never be long enough.
The end was quick as his heart beat slowed and his eyes closed.  Peaceful in slumber. An anguished ‘no’ escaped from a place deep within as tears flowed freely.  NO. One more day, one more hour, one more minute.

It was over. No more pain except for the crushing pain in our hearts. The grief real as we struggled to leave our devoted, loyal and faithful best friend behind.
So many wonderful memories, so many days of joy and laughter shared, so many of the best days of our lives and one of the very worst.

My first Christmas - Ararat 2014


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