Ryan
Today I wrapped up a month-long training program with a dog I had placed in a home with a newly deaf elderly man, Francis. It felt good to finally drop the Golden Retriever off at Francis’s home. I knew she would give the man not only the companionship he needed, but also help with notifying him of things he couldn’t hear, like a doorbell or phone.
The dog had been on death row a mere month before, and Francis had been having a hard time coping with his severe and sudden hearing loss. The two together became instant soulmates. When I had first met Francis, I never thought I’d see him smile, yet here we were.
Francis paused from playing fetch with his new dog to sit back down on the loveseat opposite me. His eyes filled with tears, which he quickly wiped as he smiled and said, “Thank you, Ryan. You’ve changed my life.”
I smiled back. “My pleasure.”
It was moments like this that made everything worth it, a sense of knowing I had accomplished some good for an individual and a dog. There was no feeling quite like it.
The hardest part was saying goodbye. My job was over, but I had always felt like a piece of me was being left behind. I had a habit of bonding with every animal I rescued, along with the animal’s recipient. It was always bittersweet for me.
Francis and I shook hands, and I gave his dog one last ear scritch before I parted their company.
When I arrived home, it was already dark out. I sat back on the sofa and picked up the TV remote so I could relax for a bit. I figured I deserved it after my success today.
But it was only a minute after I switched on the news that I realized my work in helping people was never really done.
I couldn’t believe the news ran that clip again. Why couldn’t they just let poor Tucker be? Why the speculation about his injuries? If they really cared, they would stop this relentless sensationalizing and move on to other stories. But no.
I figured I had better check in and called the Lee household. Though I had only been a friend of their son’s in high school, they treated me like one of their own.
“Hey, Ryan. You saw it too?” asked Pops.
“Yes, sir. I did. I was hoping by now they’d quit.”
Pops let out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“How’s Tucker handling things?”
“Well, Jack just called and said Tucker gave him his huge flat screen TV. I guess Tucker’s had enough of the news.”
“So he’s still not handling things well, then?”
“Nope.”
“Has he gone out in public yet?”
“No, son. He still refuses.”
I paused. I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but Tucker’s self-imposed exile wasn’t a good sign. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve had a nagging feeling that I should offer to help, and it seemed that Tucker’s mental condition was only getting worse.
I had to do something. So I asked, “I hope I’m not overstepping, but do you think one of my therapy dogs could be of some use to him? Maybe help him want to venture out? I would gladly offer up my services if you guys thought I could be of some use.”
There was a garbled sound for a second and then Pops asked me, “Can I put you on speaker and you can fill in Mama Lee and Eric, who happen to be trying really hard to listen in on our conversation?”
Before I could reply, I was on speaker and he asked me to repeat my idea, which I gladly did.
“I think that might just do the trick,” Mama Lee said.
“Why didn’t I think of that? Hell yes!” Eric added.
Pops then suggested I join in on their weekly family tradition. Apparently they finally convinced Tucker to attend this week’s Sunday brunch. They explained that it would just be immediate family, unlike the good old days where any friend had an open invitation. They didn’t want to overwhelm Tucker.
“I’m in. What can I bring?”
Mama Lee laughed and asked, “You must remember the answer to that. Surely now it hasn’t been that long?”
I laughed and teased, “I had to ask, you know that. I was raised with some manners. Cut me some slack now.”
“Oh, all right, dear. We’ll see you Sunday. And Ryan?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for offering your services to Tucker. I haven’t been this hopeful in a long time. I think this might just be the trick to break his doldrums and get him out and about. Bless you, son!”
“Let’s just hope my idea helps. See you guys soon.”
I carefully hung up the phone then shot up from the sofa and let out a triumphant holler.
Bessie, my lead training dog, a sweet Golden mix, jumped up from her bed and looked around, ready to participate in the celebration I was having. Duke, my old hound dog, cracked open one eye before returning to his deep sleep only a puppy or ancient dog knew. It was a good thing ole Duke was going deaf, because I was pretty sure I would have given him a heart attack with my ecstatic celebration.
I was finally going to see Tucker again!
I was going to see Tucker again!
Oh, crap…
I was going to see Tucker again.