
My son is five and like most boys his age he likes to destroy things, slam his action figures into one another, launch them into mid-air while crying out "Help meeeeee!"
He shows little to no mercy for his prized Teddy as he grips the stuffed animal around the neck, and swings him above his head like a cowboy's lasso.
Teddy was decapitated last year and left with only one arm by one of Boogey's friends, and my son was completely beside himself, sobbing into the stuffing that bulged from Ted's headless body. After sewing the bear back together later that night (granted, a bit afflicted when I finished with needle and thread but still did a damn fine job) Boogey went right back to pummeling the poor bear, dragging him carelessly by his shorter-than-the-other arm, and punting him across the room.
Sensitivity and the word "gentle" just do not register with this small boy, and sweet caretaker he has never been. He is all boy and the rare moments of soft usually come when he isn't feeling well and has fallen ill. He's more into rocks and sticks than hugs and kisses.
And when it comes to our family dog, MY dog, Boogey's main objective has always been basically to bother poor old Dave. Often I've had to bark at my child to leave the dog alone...stop messing with the dog...stop chasing the dog...stop fucking with the damn dog.
So when Dave got sick, the last person I expected compassion from was my son.
Curiosity, of course. Questions, definitely.
But grief or worry? Never.
By the third day, he began to understand just how grave the situation was when Dave still had not come home from the "dog hospital." Questions began to be asked, and I answered them as honestly as I could, or at least as honestly as I could admit to myself.
"Dave might not be coming home. I don't know. We have to wait and see. Let's just think positive, okay?"
Rather than be met with more questions, Boogey came to me with hugs and pats, and free offers for back rubs (rather than his usual $1.00 charge). He stroked my hair and told me Dave would be home soon, and that everything would be okay, I'd see, it would be just fine.
Perhaps he could see the anguish in my eyes, or the pinched expression on my face willing myself not to cry in front of my kid whenever the subject of my sick dog came up. Whatever it was, Boogey felt the need to make it better and reassure me. With a smile, I received every hug and squeeze my little boy was willing to give and for even a split second, it was a distraction from my constant worry over my 11-year-old beagle.
When our dog pulled through, even against the odds my vet had thrown out there in the beginning, my son did a dance for me...and for Dave. He rubbed those silky beagle ears and kissed the top of Dave's head upon his return home. Boog whispers goodnight to Dave at bedtime, and wakes in the morning to greet our dog with a soft rub and a murmur of "thatta boy, good dog."
A gentle side to my child has emerged, a sensitive side with seemingly endless care over animals now. I've watched as he even steps over ant beds now, careful not to disturb the dirt kingdom alive at his feet.
Perhaps it's the respect for life he has come to understand, or how quickly it can leave us, but I can't deny that I am proud.
The other night we both lay on my bed, watching America's Funniest Home Videos together, a show my child seems to adore watching with me. We both giggled as they showed animal bloopers; a dog trying to drink from a garden hose, a squirrel playing in a yard sprinkler, a geese snapping at the crotch of an old man.
In the next shot, a white mouse outdoors was shown in his cage, the owner cooing at his pet and opening the latch to allow the mouse freedom to roam outside of the metal bars. Within a split second the camera angle switched to a huge bird swooping down, snatching the white mouse in its beak and flying away with its prey.
My child was mortified and let out a small sound of agony.
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY! THAT IS NOT FUNNY!" Boogey screamed at the tv, then covered his face and cried.
A bit shocked, I simply rubbed his back and hugged him to me as tight as he'd allow.
"I know, I know," I said. "It's not funny at all, but that's life. Ya know, it comes and it goes. You just never know."
"Like Dave?" was his response. And I had to pause for a moment because it's still hard for me to talk about, to admit to even myself.
"Yes, like Dave," I finally said with a nod.
There was quiet between us for a moment, then we both simultaneously reached down and rubbed the snoring beagle at our feet.
Just like Dave.
Marley and Me comes out today and Boogey wants to rent it.
I read the book months ago and it messed me up pretty bad (bawling and blubbering) so since I can't bring myself to rent this flick my mom has agreed to rent it and watch it with my child. I'll be watching Slumdog Millionaire, thankyouverymuch.