Echoes of a silent voice

I heard Alex’s muffled voice outside the room. He opened the door, scanned the room, and called out, “Peter! Where are you?” Turning to Jenny, he added, “Fetch him—we have to leave now!”. He rushed off, though I could see him clearly from my sneak-out place.

I’m Peter, and this is my family. Margot adopted me twelve years ago. Our family includes Margot, her daughter Jenny, son-in-law Alex, and granddaughter Cindy. Oh! I forgot to mention Carl! He is Margot’s other foster child. We adopted him a few years after me.

Like many foster kids, Carl and I didn’t attend school. Margot, a lover of books, became our teacher. She loves books. I am sure someone can build a lavish home for me just by piling up her books lying in the attic and storeroom. She often read to me and shared her thoughts on everything. I followed her everywhere, soaking up the knowledge she imparted. It made me unusually thoughtful, though I often felt the ache of being unable to speak.

Unlike most children, Carl and I are different—we cannot talk. But Carl doesn’t seem to mind; he’s always sleeping. I don’t understand how he turns Margot’s profound wisdom into a lullaby. He’s moody, lazy, and, worst of all, possessive. He always naps on her lap, stealing what I feel should be my share of her love. I know, I am his big brother. I don’t hate him. I am just jealous.

If not for Margot, I would’ve killed Carl already. After all, we are enemies by nature. But we’re too old for that now, and honestly, I should take back that thought. I still remember the day Margot and I found Carl. It was a sunny afternoon, and she was reading and sipping chamomile tea when I heard faint cries in the backyard. I ran out on all fours of my limbs and saw an eagle attacking a kitten, who was desperately dodging its strikes. I barked and charged at the eagle, scaring it away. The kitten leaned on me, terrified, as Margot arrived, shooed the eagle, and scooped up the kitten. She brushed my head, carried him inside, and I followed, wagging my tail. I couldn’t abandon Carl back then, and I wouldn’t now. Maybe I’m just a soft-hearted, sentimental golden retriever!

Oh, and by the way, no one’s allowed to call me a dog—it would upset my family. But since no one, not even Carl, can hear me, I sometimes call myself a dog. And I am a good dog!

When it comes to Margot, I’d go to any extent—well, maybe some! That’s why I decided to be a pain in the tail for Carl. Like, literally. As a pup, I traveled everywhere with Margot in a pet carrier—a backpack with wheels and a transparent ventilated front. With time, I outgrew the carrier, and it became Carl’s, and I had to cargo since airlines only allow one pet per passenger. How could he take my place? I am sure Carl will just sleep all along. So, whenever he climbed into the carrier, I’d bite his tail, becoming a pain in his tail.

Carl was too lazy to grow big enough to outgrow the carrier. He traveled with Margot more than I did, and I’m sure he thinks he’s her favorite. I often wished I could speak, just to tell him that Margot named me Peter—the name she chose for her stillborn child before Jenny. That alone would show him how much she loves me.

Margot is my life. I never felt like a dog around her. She always took me with her, and I followed her everywhere. Until that one day, she slept longer than usual and didn’t respond to my barks, licking, or nudging. Not knowing what to do, I lay by her side, resting my head on her chest, waiting for her to wake up. When she didn’t, I ran out the pet door and fetched the neighbor to the doorstep.

The neighbor called Jenny, and soon she arrived with doctors. The house was filled with people, but I didn’t understand what was happening. Someone tied me outside with a leash. After a while, Carl came to me, his eyes moist and corners filled with pus. He leaned silently against me, resting. I wanted to bark, but Margot had always told me not to bark unnecessarily. My eyes watered in confusion, and my throat grew heavy. I couldn’t bark.

After a while, Jenny came out. She saw me and knelt down to hug me. Her face was wet, her nose runny, and her cheeks red. She finally whispered, “She left us all.”

I barked uncontrollably, my chest heavy with sorrow. I tried to run, but Jenny saw the leash and quickly released me. I rushed inside and found Margot lying on the bed, motionless. I nudged her gently with my forehead and licked her feet, hoping she'd come out of her act. She used to play dead with me, but she was too sensitive to tickles. She remained lifeless. I howled until my throat went dry, and Jenny, with tears in her eyes, hugged me and gently led me away.

Everyone wore black that day. Jenny dressed me up in my black suit. It was the one Margot stitched for Jenny's wedding. I was the one who escorted Jenny that day. I followed Margot to the cemetery. I refused to leave. While everyone else went, I stayed for days, ignoring food and shade, though Jenny brought me meals. I climbed onto her grave and slept, thinking of Margot, just like Carl used to sleep on her lap.

One night, I heard Margot call my name. I rushed to her, and she knelt down. I hugged her, resting my forelimbs on her shoulders, and we cried and laughed together. She sat down, and I lay my head on her lap. She rubbed my belly and told me to go home and take care of everyone. She promised she’d always remember me. I looked at her, and, as always, we spoke with our eyes. She said, “Fine, some more time.” I rested my head back and dozed off.

The next morning, a cool breeze carried chamomile flowers, their scent reminding me of the tea Margot drank so often. I woke up, rubbed my body against the side of the grave, and headed home. When I arrived, Jenny was waiting for me. The house felt empty, everything packed into cardboard boxes. That afternoon, they took Carl and me to their home, far away from Margot.

Fast forward three human years, and here I am, hiding from my family, trying to avoid another trip to the vet. They say I have stage two blood cancer. They also say that if I don’t undergo treatment, I won’t have much time left. Every visit, they pierce me with countless injections. I used to be afraid of them, but now, the pain barely registers. I’ve gotten used to it.

I found myself growing weaker as time passed. My nails and teeth began to fall out, and I no longer had the energy to play with Cindy or go out. I couldn’t taste or smell anything anymore. My body shrank to half its weight, and with my overgrown fur, I resembled a dandelion. But along with the weight loss, my strength faded too. Unlike humans, dogs don’t hit their teenage years after twelve. For a golden retriever, it’s almost like nearing a century.

I’m afraid that if I go now and don’t come back, I won’t be able to keep my promise to Margot—to look after her family.

I’ve tried to keep my promise these past few years. Often, when Cindy comes home from school, the house is empty. I guard her and play with her every evening. I lie beside Jenny when she has her breakdowns. She rests her head on my stomach and dozes off. Alex and I are fishing partners. Every Sunday, we go out, and he talks to me about his life. His words remind me of the conversations I used to have with Margot. Maybe that’s what Jenny saw in him and fell in love with.

But quite often, Alex talks about how frustrating Jenny and Cindy can be. He’s not a bad person; he’s just going through a lot, just like Jenny. I think they both need to sit down and talk about it.

I like to think of myself as a great conversationalist. After all, who could resist having a companion who listens so eagerly to other’s views? Margot once told me that empathy is what people long for in a heartfelt conversation, not opinions or judgments.

Many times, when Jenny or Alex vent to me about each other, I watch how their frustration gradually fades, and they realize it’s not worth confronting the other person. As a dog, I don’t know how to laugh, but I wanted to laugh at them for proving themselves wrong.

As for Carl, I stopped being a pain in his tail a long time ago. He’s grown older and even lazier with time, but I always kept an eye on him for his safety.

I hear footsteps approaching again. Cindy entered the room and walked straight toward the ride-on toy car she used to drive, up until a few years ago. She removed the blanket and found me lying there. Cindy got her smartness from Margot.

Petting my back she said “Come on, Peter, don’t be afraid. You’ll get better again.” She tried to move me, but I stayed still. It surprised me how firm I stood, despite my thin, frail body.

The sound of something falling from above caught both our attention. We saw Carl leap down from the attic, walking toward us. He went behind the bed and dragged the pet carrier with his teeth. The sight of it brought a spark of energy back into me, and I jumped out of the toy car, eager to sniff it. I tried to climb inside, but I couldn’t manage. I sat beside it, resting my jaw on my protruding front limbs.

Cindy quickly got up and ran out of the room. She returned holding Alex’s trimmer and started trimming my fur short. I felt a pang of sadness as clumps of hair fell away. Once shiny and yellow, my fur now looked thin and white. I was surprised to feel lighter, almost like a flower. After all the trimming, my form had shrunk so much that I was finally able to get to my feet and crawl into the carrier.

I stepped inside and curled into a ball, settling down. Inside the carrier, I found my black suit. It reminded me of the time Jenny had argued with Margot during her wedding. They’d been concerned that I wouldn’t be allowed on the flight because it was a pet carrier trolley case, not a suitcase. Margot, however, had simply packed my suit inside and said with a smile, “Well, now it’s a pet carrier suitcase!”

I snapped out of my reverie when Carl bit my tail, which hung out of the carrier. I realized it was his way of telling me to come back soon. I poked my head out and gently rubbed our foreheads together. I wished I could speak, to tell him, “Thank you for being a wonderful brother.”

Cindy called for her parents, and soon everyone entered the room. They stopped short when they saw me seated in the carrier, ready to go. I noticed their eyes growing watery. I couldn’t help but wonder—why had they grown so attached to me? After all, I am just a dog.

As I sat there, I reflected on my life over the past few years, just in case I needed to tell Margot how I had lived up to our promise. Then, it hit me—this is why they were so emotional: for them, I wasn’t just a dog. I kept Cindy company after school, like a grandmother would. I was a mother to Jenny, comforting her through tough times. I offered counsel to Alex with my quiet presence and unbiased affection, like a mother-in-law. And to Carl, I protected him, and stood as a reminder of his time with Margot. In many ways, I became Margot for them when they needed her. I’d often heard people say that Jenny looks like her father, but now, I see Margot in myself.

I realized that my entire life was packed into this suitcase pet carrier. I believe Margot saw me as her first child, which is why she returned and asked me to take care of her family. Perhaps I was her stillborn Peter, reincarnated as a dog, found by her side. This is my family. I am going now, but I know I will return to them, one way or another.