The Missing Lynx

Tony was a lonely boy, living far outside of town and not getting along with the other kids at his school attributed to that. He grew up chucking hay and working the land with his father which had turned him into a rather strong boy. Because of this, the other kids in school did not pick on him, which was good. However, they seemed to fear him, so they avoided Tony.

               His father, Arthur, worked all day, every day, and into most evenings, so other than breakfast and dinner Tony never saw him. When they did speak, it was only ever so his father could tell him the tasks he needed to do that day, or to confirm the day's tasks were completed. With his mother gone, having died the day Tony was born, and his father negligent, Tony felt empty. He longed for a friend, someone to hug him and tell him everything would be alright.

               The only time Tony was ever happy was the occasional hunting trips his father and him would take during the winter. It was so nice to get away from the physical labor of the farm, plus this was his father's vacation so he was always in a fine mood. The year after his twelve birthday Tony’s life was changed on one of these trips.

               It was their last day out on the hunt before heading home, his father had taken down three bucks so far. Tony had not shot anything. He would shoot in the direction of animals they saw but intentionally missed. He loved animals and never would want to hurt one, but he could not let his father know that. The only reason he came hunting was to spend time with his father while not working.

               They were on the trek back to the cabin, Tony kicking a ball of snowy ice along. He looked up from the ground and there standing ten meters from the edge of the trail was a beautiful majestic lynx looking down at something in the small clearing. He tried to get his father's attention, but the lynx was spooked by something and ran into the trees. Tony noticed three kittens close on its heels as it took off into the dense wood.

Tony continued on the trail but was halted by a faint whimpering sound off the path, near where he had spotted the big cat. He asked his father to hold on as he took off into the woods to investigate.

               When Tony approached the clearing he saw tiny speckles of blood around a pile of leaves and fur. As he got close enough he bent down and noticed it was not a pile but a tiny lynx that had been crudely covered in leaves and dirt. The poor creature must have been bitten or taken a nasty fall because its right hind leg was dripping blood. Tony noticed that this lynx was much smaller than its siblings he had seen running behind the mother. Tony began to gently clear the debris from the wounded animal when he heard a shout from his father.

               “Tony! Get Down!” Arthur yelled, pointing a gun in his son’s direction.

               Tony didn’t hesitate and instantly dropped to the dirt. Tony knew that didn’t raise his voice much but when he did, he’d better listen.

               As Tony hit the ground a shot rang out above his head. He turned to see a massive black and gray wolf sliding limp toward him in the dirt. He looked up and saw two more enormous wolves charging him. One coming from the same direction the now dead wolf had, and the other coming at his right. He quickly slipped his rifle off his back, steadied his aim on the beast following his dead comrade. As it lunged in the air over the fallen wolf, Tony pulled the trigger. It hit the ground a foot in front of him and Tony heard another shot fire behind him. He spun and saw the third wolf skidding to a stop inches from his leg.

               Tony turned to find the lynx, whimpering loudly from the commotion and fear, clearly shaken but unharmed. He took off his jacket in which he wrapped the tiny cat and held it close to his chest.  It was cold and shaking in his arms as he walked carefully back to the trail trying not to further disrupt the fragile lynx.

               “Do you think it will make it through the night?” Tony asked his father as he handed him the bundle.                      

 "We will do our best to make sure it does," Arthur replied, as he examined the bloodstained fur ball swathed in the hunting jacket. He noticed its deep shade of blue from the loss of blood and said. “But don’t get your hopes up son. It’s definitely a longshot.

               The first night was tough but the baby lynx persevered and after a few days it was up walking and eating regularly. The days turned to weeks and the creature grew stronger.

 Arthur removed the bandage from its leg and said “Well my boy, it looks like you’ve got a fighter here. This leg has healed up nicely. Also, if I’m not wrong, this thing is twice the size as it was when we found it. Must have not been getting enough milk from its mother.”

Tony had noticed the remarkable size change too. It was already much bigger than the three he had seen walking behind the mother.

“How big do you think it’ll get?” His imagination raced to him saddling up a mighty lynx the size of a horse. “Think I’ll be able to ride it?” Tony said smiling as he mimicked riding a horse around the room.

“I don’t know about that big.” His father said, his voice was monotone and slightly cold, but a subtle smile crept over his face.

Tony saw this and smiled too. He felt closer to his father at this moment than he had his whole life. His father never indulged in Tony’s vivid imagination, so that little smirk meant the world to him.

“Well I think this thing needs a name, what should we call it?” Arthur asked.

Tony thought for a moment. Then it came to him, it was there the whole time.

"I'm gonna call it Longshot," Tony said to his father.

                                              .   .  .

The years progressed as they tend to do and as Tony grew so did little Longshot. The lynx was special. It ate so much and grew so big it could no longer fit inside the house. Not so little Longshot had grown to the size of a tiger; it was a beautiful majestic looking beast. Tony and the lynx were best friends, and Longshot was very protective of him.

They did everything together. Tony had never been so happy. He finally had the friend he had been missing his whole life.

A few years after the event in the woods a summer-long drought fell on the area that almost crippled the farm. Things between Tony and his father had been good up until this point. They had begun to grow close as a result of Longshot entering their lives for they now had something to talk about besides farm chores. But as the stress from the drought set in Arthur starting drinking which put a strain in their relationship. Arthur became very cold and often verbally hostile toward Tony.

The farm managed to bounce back the next season and they were on track for a full recovery. However Arthurs drinking did not stop. He became progressively more aggressive with Tony as he entered adulthood.

Tony came back from town one evening with Longshot close behind. He had been picking up some light supplies for the farm. With a saddle, he had turned the strapping lynx into a handy pack mule, and Longshot loved to help.

Walking up the drive, Tony saw Arthur passed out drunk on the porch swing. So as quietly as possible he continued up the driveway to the garage.

The large garage was an organized mess of tools and farm equipment and smelled of fertilizer and sawdust. Tony put the supplies away quietly and as they went to leave, Longshot accidentally knocked over a sawhorse, which tipped a ladder resting near it and sent it crashing through the window above the tool bench. 

Arthur was up with a start, he jumped off the porch swing like the Germans were attacking. Reeking of bourbon and pipe tobacco he staggered, around the house. His shotgun in hand hung limp at his side, bouncing off his hip as he hurried his pace.

Tony was rushing to clean up the mess before his father could notice. He knew that Longshot wasn't allowed inside the garage, and his father would be furious.

The door to the garage swung open.

"What the hells goin’ on in here?" Arthur said, his curiosity turned to rage as he saw the lynx and the broken window. “That’s it! That’s the last time I put up with this! I have had it with your lynx always messing up my stuff!

Arthur grabbed a shell out of his pocket and, cracking the barrel of the gun over his arm, slid the round in. He hugged the gun to his shoulder and steadied his aim on Longshot.

"Dad what the hell!" Tony yelled at his father, "You are drunk out of your mind!"

“WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME!!” Arthur screamed fully enraged, as he turned the gun on Tony.

Before this moment Longshot sat patiently frozen, as if unphased or dumbfounded by the gun. But the lynx was only waiting for Tony to give an order. But as soon as Arthur turned the gun to Tony, Longshot was no longer waiting for an order. The lynx pounced on Arthur like lighting and before he knew what was happening, he had dropped the gun and was staring into the eyes of the three hundred pound beast as it tore into his arm.

Arthur howled and before Tony could get Longshot away from his father, the lynx had torn his arm clean off and was about to make the jump for his jugular. Tony tackled his companion to the ground before it could strike the lethal blow.

It was bad. Tony sat a moment in shock as he took in the horrific scene. After a half-second of stillness he leaped into action, Tony whipped off his belt and tightened it around his father's gushing limb as a makeshift tourniquet. Then he grabbed his phone and frantically tried to dial 911, taking three attempts to get it right due to panic and the fact that his hands were slippery with blood.

Before the ambulance arrived, Tony knew he would have to get rid of the lynx or they would surely put him down. Some of the townspeople already didn’t like the fact that Tony had a lynx for a pet and had been trying to make him get rid of it for years. This was all they needed to have Longshot taken care of once and for all.

It was not easy to get Longshot to run off because it didn’t know what was happening. Tony had begun to yell and scream at it, and when that didn’t work, he resorted to throwing rocks in Longshots direction. At first careful to make sure they landed short, but the stubborn lynx held its ground, so Tony was forced to tighten his aim.

 The rock connected with a thud and Tony never forgot the whimpering sound Longshot made as it struck behind its ear and took off into the forest.

                                              .   .  .

Tony’s father survived and organized a search party for the lynx. The anger and fear that spread through the town with the news of the attack led to nearly every capable man joining the hunt. They searched throughout the night and into the next days with no luck. The mob began to dwindle as the months went on until only Arthur was left coming to the woods alone.

Arthur died a few years later of a heart attack, the drinking and smoking having finally caught up to him. Tony had left the farm after the incident, he decided to go to university where he met the girl of his dreams. They were living in the city when Tony heard the news of his father's passing. They returned to the old farm to sort his father’s things and sell the property.

 Tony had successfully pushed the painful memories away, though upon the sight of the house they all came rushing back, washing over him, and hitting the high tide mark in his mind that was Longshot.

Everything was set and they were ready to leave the next morning, but after dinner Tony wanted to take one last walk around the property. He kissed his wife gently on the forehead and told her not to wait up. He grabbed his father’s old rifle for safety took off into the chilly autumn evening.

The air was brisk and had an eerie feel to it. Tony walked along the edge to the farm, taking it all in, remembering the hours of back-breaking work and sweat he had given his father over the years. Tony noticed some movement in the fence a hundred yards up, and as he approached, he saw a struggling doe, its leg tangled in the wire. Its skirmish had torn the wire down from three posts leaving a wide gap.

As Tony bent down to free the doe, it flailed desperately which only tightened the hold the metal wire had, cutting into its soft fur. Tony took out his pocket knife and cut through the wire, the deer sprung up and dashed into the trees. Tony looked up and then he saw it a set of huge yellow eyes staring at him through the cover of the bush.

He heard a snarl to his left and turned quickly and saw the second wolf. The two animals charged him before he had a chance to pull the rifle from his back. The one to his left was closer, it sunk its teeth into Tony’s arm. He let out a scream as he drove his pocket knife through the top of its skull. He turned back to the wolf that had been charging head-on, bracing for its inevitable impact. Tony was astonished when he realized what he was looking at; he could not believe his eyes. The wolf lay dead a few feet in front of him. Standing astride the body was his old friend, the great colossal lynx, Longshot.