A gray pick-up truck lumbered down the empty road. The truck was old, with both paint and rust covering its exterior. In the twilight hours of dusk, you could see only one headlight actually worked. Inside sat a tall, lean young man, eyes focused on the road ahead of him, occasionally having to brush his brown hair out of his eyes.
Ruthie remained silent for a while, while you look to your right at the large fields passing by. Some are filled with cattle, some with crops, while many more are simply empty.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The man suddenly speaks, drawing your attention. “I’ve always liked this part of town, out here in the countryside. There’s a strange, well, beauty to it. Whenever I drive around here, I like to let my mind wander a bit, you know, think about things. Life, my friends, my family, all of that. But you don’t care about that. Right now, you’re probably wondering why you’re here, right?”
After a moment, you nod.
He smirks. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Well, simply put, I want to talk. To tell you a few things. About, well, I’ll get to that eventually.”
As he speaks, the fields of yellow slowly begin to turn into neighborhoods as you drive through a more urbanized part of town. It’s not exactly a suburb, it still has a very natural look and feel to it, but it’s close enough.
“Death is something I’ve never really thought about.”
You turn to look at him, confusion on your face.
“Sure, I know it exists, I’m not an idiot, but it’s never been something I’ve really wondered about. Just how permanent of an ending it is. Once you die, that’s it. It’s over, done. Sure, many people believe that there’s something after, depending on what religion you follow, if you follow one, but no one knows with absolute certainty what happens after. And honestly, it scares me a bit.”
Gently pressing on the brake, Ruthie clicked the lever just past his steering wheel to activate his turn signal, despite the fact that there was literally no one in sight. After slowing down enough, he turned down a worn-down road, various potholes littering the sun-beaten asphalt.
“Maybe it scares you too, I don’t know. It should. Anyone who says death doesn’t scare them is either lying or an idiot, because the concept of death is terrifying.” Sighing, Ruthie shook his head. “Or maybe it isn’t, I don’t know. I’m not some philosopher or something.”
A few moments later, the both of you arrive at a house. It doesn’t look all that special. It has a simple black-tiled roof with a yellow paint-job on its wooden exterior. The front door is white, with a big window in the center.
Pulling into the driveway, Ruthie quickly puts the truck in park and turns off the engine. Slipping the keys into his pocket, he swiftly exits the vehicle, prompting you to do the same. Walking across his rather small front yard, he withdraws the keys from his pocket and unlocks the front door, turning the knob and opening it. Stepping inside, he glances back at you and waves for you to follow, which you do.
The inside isn’t much to look at. There’s a few couches around, with a wooden T.V stand against a nearby wall, on which a 45 inch T.V sat. You follow behind Ruthie as he walks past the front room and into his dining room, which was openly connected with the kitchen. He walks over to his fridge, pulling out a two-liter of A & W root beer. Opening the cap, he takes a drink straight from the jug. Setting the bottle down, he looks at you.
“You want anything?”
You shake your head.
He shrugs. “Eh, your loss.” Taking another drink, he capped the bottle and put it back in the fridge. Sighing, he closed the door to the fridge before walking over to the sliding glass door that lead to the backyard. “Do you mind if I tell you a story?” He asks, glancing at you.
After a moment of consideration, you shake your head.
He smiles, though there is little joy in the expression. “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, he turns to look outside again. “This story takes place 16 years ago, at a little house in a far away town, and two people.”
* * * * *
Early May, 2003.
Knock, knock, knock.
A woman, around 60 years of age, answers the door. Outside stands two people. One is a young man, around thirty, with short black hair and a pair of glasses on his face. The other was a young woman, around the same age, carrying a small child in her arms. The baby, who was to be a year old in only two months, barely stirred, content to sleep in his mother's arms.
“Hello. Are you here to see them?”
“Yeah.” The man answered in a deep but gentle voice. The old lady looked behind the trio and looked back at the man in confusion.
“Where are the rest of your children?”
“Left them with a babysitter, since they didn’t want to come. Only little {Name Redacted} came with.” The woman answered. The old lady grinned and gestured for them to come inside.
“Ah I see. Well, I think it’s best they aren’t here. The little ones don’t like a lot of noise, after all.”
Nodding at her, the man stepped inside, the woman following suit. Once inside, the old lady walked over to what was once her garage, opening the door to allow the trio through. As soon as she did so, the sound of loud barking could be heard from within, causing the baby to stir a bit.
Walking inside the garage, the man and woman quickly saw the cause of the barking. It was a large dog kennel, sitting there in the middle of the room. Inside was around a dozen little lab puppies, all ranging in color from golden yellow to deep black.
“Take your time to pick one.” The old lady spoke, to which the man nodded.
“Got it. Thanks.” With that, both he and the woman looked over the puppies. They all yapped loudly, playing with each other, stumbling around. The mother of the litter, a big golden lab, sat lazily in the back, observing her offspring.
After a good five minutes of looking at the puppies, and woman noticed something. There, at the back of the group, sat a small black lab. This one was different than the rest. It didn’t bark, it didn’t play, it just sat there, staring at the pair.
The staring contest continued for a good few minutes before the man spoke up.
“We’ll take that one.” The old lady stepped forward to see which one he was pointing to.
“Ah, good choice. He’s a real good pup.” Reaching into the kennel, she picked up the puppy and gently gave him to the man. “Now, let me get some supplies for him and you’ll be all set to go.” With that, she left the trio and their new puppy alone.
The black lab squirmed and wiggled around in the man’s grasp, not used to its new surroundings. The man chuckled.
“For one so small, he’s got a lot of energy. Anyway, what do you think we should call him?” He asked the woman.
“I don’t know. Something with a B, probably.” Looking down at the baby in her arms, she asked in a cooing voice. “What do you think, {Name Redacted}. What should we call him?”
“Ban- Ban.” The baby responded.
The man put a hand to his chin in thought. “Ban? Band? No, that’s a stupid name. Hmm. What about Bandit?”
“Bandit?” The woman asked.
“Yeah, it’s a cool name, and works with his black color scheme.”
The woman smiled. “Bandit.” She looked down at the small puppy. “Yeah, I like it. Bandit it is.”
Present time
With a sigh, Ruthie finished his tale. “And that’s the story of how my family got one of the best dogs I’ve ever seen. The years following were fun, frustrating, but in the end, some of the most memorable I think I’ll ever have.” Sighing, he slowly unlocked the sliding glass door, opening it and stepping outside. Following close behind, you’re met with a rather large backyard, grass growing abundantly and towering trees of green shading most of the landscape. You remain silent, following Ruthie as he walks towards the left back-corner of the acre-sized yard, where a large cluster of trees blocked the view of whatever lay inside.
“It was about six months ago that we noticed something was wrong.” His tone, once happy and content, was now sad and reserved. “Bandit always loved eating, so much so that he was usually a pretty fat dog. But about half a year ago, he suddenly stopped eating as much. After a few days of this, I got concerned, figured something was wrong with him. But vets are expensive, and at the time, my family couldn’t afford the trip. So we hoped and prayed that it was just a phase.” He sighed. “But it wasn’t. It continued for a long time. He got skinny, got weak. Started losing most of the muscles in his back legs, so much so that he couldn’t get up on his own. Lost his sight and his hearing. Basically, every bad thing you could imagine happening to a dog, happened to him. And we just sat back and watched because getting help was so fucking expensive that doing so was all we could do.”
You both arrive at cluster of trees, where Ruthie pushes some branches out of the way, allowing the both of you access. Inside is dark, with the sunlight having a much harder time getting through the thick canopy of leaves and branches above.
“A few days ago, my parents figured that he was suffering too much or something, because when I get home from school, everyone in my family is already there. One of my sisters is crying. Another is trying hard not to. The rest just sit there with solemn expressions on their faces. I know something is wrong and they know I know.”
“My mom is the first to speak.”
‘“Hey, {Name Redacted}. How was school?” I wasn’t falling for it.”
‘“What happened?” I ask, tone fearful for what I might hear. They deliberate for a few moments before one of my sisters speaks.”
“We’re putting Bandit down.”
“I just stood there for a few moments, staring at them. Then I walked to my room, dropped off my stuff, then I went outside to see him. I sat with him for a while, pet him a bit, then walked back inside before asking what was wrong with him.” After a few moments of walking, Ruthie eventually arrived at what looked like a make-shift headstone, made out of a thin piece of wood. On it was written:
Here lies Bandit.
2003-2019
A beloved pet and part of the family
“Doggy Alzheimers.” Ruthie spoke. “After saving up enough, we finally took him to the vet, only to find out that there was nothing we could do to save him anyway. That was a real punch to the face.” He sighed, rubbing a hand against his face. “I came home from school yesterday and the first thing my mom says to me is that he was gone. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. One moment he was there, the next, he’s gone.”
Sighing, Ruthie sat down in front of the grave. “Look, there’s a reason I’m telling you this. I’ve been considering going on hiatus for a while now, and Bandit dying helped me make my decision. So, for all of next week, I will be going on hiatus. Sorry if you’re disappointed, but I need some time to recuperate and to rejuice or else my writing will most likely suffer. I’d rather take longer to make a good chapter then write garbage. Probably.” Standing up, he stretched, letting out a small sigh.
“Anyway, that’s pretty much all for today, so I’m gonna head back in.” With that, he turns and walks away, only to stop. Chuckling, he glances back at you. “Also, as always, thanks for reading! Be sure to let me know what you all think in the comments!”
And then he was gone.