I. (~200 words) I remember the morning when mom broke the news: "Your father died last night --" sob, hiccup. "He wanted you to know how much he loved you, alright?" A shaky breath. "And I love you boys so much, and we're going to get through this, ok?" She choked back another sob, hugged us as long as she could, then darted back to her room. I don't remember when she came back out. I don't remember much of anything besides the crying and the silence. I do, however, remember when uncle Rico visited. First, his signature greeting, vacuuming us into his beer belly. Then a surprise. "You all could use some love right now, and a protector, a man of the house." Mom, weakly protesting. "It's a puppy, Richard. How are we going to take care of a puppy?" "It'll be good for the boys. Teach them some responsibility. Give them something to do, someone to hug on when their uncle Rico isn't here. I promise: in a few years, that dog will be taking care of them." Uncle Rico left his signature goodbye, a bristly smooch on our foreheads. He left the puppy too: a creamy, wrinkly furball that licked the smooch right off my face. We named him Bentley. II. (~300 words) Mom hid in her room for a long time / most of that year. She [usually] came out at dinnertime to make sure we were fed. The only thing keeping her grounded was grocery runs, the instinct to keep her boys alive, homework checks and signatures on permission slips and spaghetti dinners. My brother busied himself with marching band and the rigors of high school. Grounded by mom too when he snuck out or when he snuck [things] in. I, meanwhile, had a lot on my plate. / to TK. [middle school] How do you fit so many classes into one day? How do you fit so many buttons on a clarinet? And how do I take care of Bentley? So much drool! I learned to keep a bandana around Bentley's neck to bib the slobber. I learned to keep a hankie in my pocket to wipe the drool off my clothes. So much pee! I learned to time his walks around homework sessions. I learned that if we forgot, he would choose the hospice room -- the death room -- to [leave] the pee of shame. [So much hair! ...] So much love. I learned I could hug [on] him as long as I wanted, and he would never TK away / wouldn't [mind]. / resist / pry away. I learned that his fur could absorb all of mom's tears [when she ran out of tissues.] I learned that his loyal brown eyes could take any staring contest. Summer rolled around. Mom decided that she needed to escape. The house, the room, the memories, everything was closing in on her. We had a few months before school resumed. We were no longer tethered to the radiology apointments or the colostomy bag. "How about a vacation?" III. Bentley's favorite summer vacation was TK because it was the least summery. [The rest of the day was punctuated by her cries of agony.] [Built a stockpile of hamburger helpers, canned veggies, mac n cheeses, spaghetti noodles and spaghetti sauces.] [Maybe the hospice room -- the death room -- kept staring her from down the hall] [With a couple months off school, and our TK new freedom:] [Quietly irritable, then unquietly arguing with mom] [funny how cancer has a way of returning -- resurfacing over the years, surprise! in a new lymph node, in a corner of your colon, shared down the family tree, and apparently TK your fur babies too] --- II. Mom still TK grieved in her room. / lingered in her room / trapped herself in her room On the good days [hard to come by] she would cook us spaghetti and toast [before retreating to her room]. [leave the dishes for her next good day] On other days, she told us where to find the TV dinners. She learned to keep a stash of mac-n-cheeses and hamburger helpers and canned green beans, and we learned to fend for / feed ourselves. [she would open a few cans, give out / retreat to her room, let us handle the rest] I busied myself with school, math, TK. Bentley demanded attention, too. He insisted on turning the guest room -- formerly the hopsice room, the death room -- he insisted on making that a pissing room. He would lay his giant head on my legs while I studied. slobber He would gaze TK, eager to see everything behind my eyes. My brother went off to high school. Busied himself with the marching band. My brother busied himself with the high school marching band. Our playtime fizzled out I missed our time together. Found solace in Bentley. Loved when Bentley strolling by my side. III. We took summer vacations each year. Mom's getaways. / we took a road trip each summer. mom needed an escape. Me, my brother, mom, Bentley in the back. Front seat always empty. (friends would ask why I never took the front seat, and I would think that's a peculiar question, because that's just the natural order of things, parents up front, siblings in the back, don't you see?) The minivan chugged along, hauling Bentley's big ass through Chattanooga one year, Chicago the next. I still remember the time we forgot dog-beano and spent St. Louis in misery. Bentley enjoyed TK the most because he could finally cool off. [he liked TK on the trips] [minivan ran out of gas? gassed up?] [road tripped] Bentley ever agreeable and loyal and lovable and curious. the patriarch , shepherd, rock, guardian of those trips. (something something cleaning dog hair, drool/slobber, genral rankness and stank and TK from the car each time?) IV. Mom and I cried when TK went to college. / When my brother left for college, mom and I cried. / Mom and I cried the whole day when my brother went to college. [move-in day] melted into each other. Family shrunk once again The life sucked out of our home Muted silence and emptiness Mom eager to fill up the empty spaces so she wouldn't feel so alone / wouldn't think about the emptiness Bentely pouted, felt our energy too stoic to cry. Eager to comfort. I laid my head on Bentley. I buried / hid my tears [and my pain] in his fur. My brother busied hiumself with fraternity With marijuana and alcohol and other escapes? [tripped through college?] I can only imagine looking for family and comfort Or for an escape. I don't think it worked We stopped taking family vacations. Minivan aging out, me focused / busied on high school Brother busy finding the world and losing himself / tripping through college. Mom lost herself in Candy Crush. would take years to TK (kick? heal? not need?) that addiction / to peel herself away. an easy way to numb yourself. dull reality. (i think about the las tbook in the world, the VR simulations keeping people alive, and if you unplug, they'll die) we all learned to stow the pain in the background / hide the pain / stow the pain away / stow our pains away. [still anxious and tired] [my addiction too?] all except bentley, who was showing his age / even bentley TK Bentley aged, too / showed his age, too. No longer so eager to explore, nor so quick to hop in [or out of] the minivan. On longer rides, he (couldn't help but) turned the third row into a pissing room. Shorter walks with Bentley. still enjoying time together we rested on each other he looked at me with all-knowing eyes. [in what way did I look back?] V. When TK finished (dropped out? graduated?) college, we took one final huzzah. We kept it simple, rented a vacation home near the beach. / so Bentley wouldn't have to TK so long / nearby, for Bentley's sake (for our sake?). mom still in the driver seat, me and my brother behind her, Bentley willing/TK the back as long as we helped him up and down. "This is like when dad" / "I remember when dad" / "Do you think dad TK?" + "Not sure" "Do you think Bentley TK?" "No, ..." [is brother toked?] [TK - more description and narrative here, longer bc it's all about the picture] [ esp about his posture on that corner of the patio couch] [panting because it was hot? wished he had the energy to travel north?] [also exhausted becasue og age? and/or cancer?] [resting tired haunches?] That was our last picture of Bentley. [The last good picture, anyways.] We don't count the X-ray picture of his leg. Cancer, the vet said. "TK" And we don't count the pictures where we're sobbing into his belly / We don't count the X-ray labeled "bone cancer", and we don't count the pitiful selfies that are more puffy eyes and tears than dog / we stained Bentley's belly with snot and tears. He limped along for a few more months. He died in the pissing room. --- He limped along a few more months before dying in the pissing room. He limped through a few more months before dying in the pissing room. Oh Bentley. Where do we go now? [Goodbye, Bentley.] [Where do we go now?] [Who will comfort us now?] ... something something "cancer has a funny way of putting a timer on life. not just on the afflicted, but also the survivors" something general/chronic anxiety, always expecting something to go wrong, preparing yourself for end of life without truly living in the first place Bentley Wilfred Winston Brutus Otis Leonard Gus Virgil Boris Humphrey Alfie Clarence Cecil Ulysses Rufus Cooper Augustus Buddy Duke Dozer Izzy Oslo Harley Baxter Bruno Hooch Rocky Coach Tucker Oso Bear Baloo Tank Hercules Beau Senator Reupert Oswald Barnaby Gunther Filbert Walter Milton Benedict Wolfgang Stanley Sampson Willis Chester Theodore Theo Phillip Jack Fraser Bartholomew Berkeley Bowie Briggs Bennett Bailey Orson some play on Panda some foreign language word like oso is for bear Orso Pang Pang --- names for borther, if he needs a name, beaucse "my brother" is three syllables and a bit clunky at times Paul John Jay Brad Luke Jude Jace Jack Finn Max Cole Scott [talk about dog hair -- inevitable for a dog, esp one like this]