A boys best friend

The door to the office was partially closed, and the voices were muted inside, but the nurse behind the desk could still plainly hear the doctors words, delivered in a soothing tone, and the sobs of the mother as she tried to accept the diagnosis.  The small boy sitting alone on the chair in front of her gave no sign as to whether he heard or even understood what was being said about him , discussing his future without his immediate presence.

The nurse carefully studied the silent figure.  She knew his name and his age, of course, but the medical notes at her side did not describe his almost white blond hair, neatly combed and parted.  The eyes, now trained on his feet, were a clear blue, framed by impossibly long lashes.  He was the very image of a stereotypical ‘perfect’ child.  The only indication of anything unusual about him was the occasional waving of his hands around his face, seemingly for no reason.

A woman emerged from the room, eyes reddened, her hands clutching tightly to her small brown bag.  She nodded to the nurse and placed a hand on the boys shoulder.  He immediately stood up and followed her robotically away.

In the car on the way home, the woman glanced into the rear view mirror.  Her son was sitting in the back seat, a harness over his shoulders, a protective measure for both of them.  

“Do you know what that doctor said Simon? He said you were very special.  He told me some things that might help you, us, to have fun, to be safe.  Simon? We’re going home now.  You can play.  What do you want to play?”

Simon didn’t answer, as was expected.  Nor would he play in the usual sense, he would return to his obsessively neat bedroom and continue to place his model cars in the same straight line.

A few days later, the mother was sitting in her kitchen with a friend, both nursing a cup of coffee.  There were a number of leaflets spread out on the table in front of them, as well as a small selection of library books, picked up by the friend.

“I know we were expecting it, it’s not a surprise.  But it’s still a shock, to have it clearly spelled out by a doctor, to be told we don’t know what the future holds, but we do, really.  We know of the silences, followed by the outbursts.  The obsessions, quickly replaced by another.  The violences, and the reluctance to speak.  He has no friends, but doesn’t care.  That won’t change, no matter what name is given to it.”

The friend quietly scanned the leaflets, each promising treatments, help, suggestions, well meaning advice.  She knew Simons mother would read them throughly in her own time, soaking up every bit of information she could, any desperate measure to gain some insight into her sons condition.  

Weeks passed, the school holidays came and went.  Simon found the change in routine difficult, his mother bearing the brunt of his aggression, each time reduced to tears, but still attempting to use the methods recommended to her to calm him.  

Once he was safely ensconced back into school, she took herself round to her friends house for a few moments of peace and adult conversation.  She was greeted at the door by an excited bundle of grey coloured fur.

“I didn’t know you were getting a dog! What’s his name?” Sinking to her knees beside the creature, she reached out a hand, allowing him to sniff her scent, before she began scratching him round the ears.

Her friend smiled.  “He’s a rescue dog.  Derek was all set for a pup from a breeder, but it seemed an awful lot of money. My cousin works at this place, and told me about it.  He seems a good choice, so far!”

She paused thoughtfully.  “It’s a lovely place.  You should take Simon, get him out of the house a bit.  I’m sure my cousin could find you a quiet time to visit”.

The mother rolled her eyes.  

“Don’t even think about it, I couldn’t cope with him melting down in a place like that, he’d hate it.  And we are not getting a dog, I don’t have time!”

A few days later she pulled up into the car park.  After being worn down, she’d agreed to a visit.  She opened Simons harness, and held tightly to his hand, in case he bolted at the sound of the dogs barking.  There was no such response however, and the pair made their way towards a small dark haired woman waiting at the entrance.  She introduced herself as Lucy, seeming unperturbed at Simons silence.  There was no one else around and Lucy explained that she was alone with a work experience girl, who she’d sent on her lunch break.

They arrived at the kennels, Lucy unlocking a gate and gesturing them inside.  She began to explain to Simons mother about the centre, and their fundraising efforts.  They had started arranging experience days for people to attend and spend time with the dogs, stress relief, as a sort of therapy.  She was keen to extend this to people with special needs, perhaps Simons mother could just give her some ideas....?

Distracted, she didn’t notice Simon slip his hand away from her, and make his way down the corridor between the kennels. She failed to realise as he made the first independent trip of his life.

When she became aware of his disappearance, she began to panic.  Realising her fears, Lucy led her down towards the other side of the building, reassuring her there was no other exit.

Rounding a corner, they both saw Simon at the same time.  He was sitting on the floor in front of one of the kennels, making a low humming sound. He reached out and touched the bars of the cage, giving a short laugh.

“Look Ma!”

His mother knelt beside him.  Although Simon could speak, he rarely did so, especially in public.  Inside the kennel was a small dog, a strangely shaped heap of mismatched fur.  His tongue lolled out as he rolled on the floor in front of Simon.

“He’s a lovely dog Simon.  You can talk to him.  But remember, only looking.  We can’t play with him.  I told you we can’t take one home”.

Lucy cleared her throat.  “My cousin did suggest..maybe....if you’re interested? We can arrange some home visits, let Simon get to know him?”

“We are not having a dog”

Several days later, Simons mum stood with Lucy, watching Simon walk around the garden with the dog, who he’d named Barney, after his favourite tv character.  Although Simons pace was slow, and his direction unchanging, Barney matched it, never leaving his side.  His mum sighed.  “I can’t believe he’s doing something other than those cars.  And responding to another person, well, animal”

Lucy smiled, reaching into her bag.  “Well, I do have some paperwork with me.  And I’ve checked, your house is safe, and we know Barney is a steady, reliable dog....”

It was a few months since they’d adopted Barney.  Although Simon still exhibited his usual traits, his mum had noticed that the outbursts had reduced considerably.  Wherever he went around the house Barney remained with him.  The first couple of weeks had been tough as Simon realised he couldn’t take Barney to school, but he’d finally settled, making his way straight back to his pet as soon as he left the school bus.  At first, a rule had tried to be enforced about no animals upstairs, then it became not on the bed, but eventually that was given up in favour of the more peaceful bedtime routine and longer sleep patterns.  Simon was willingly accompanying his mother outside for Barneys walks, signalling that he wanted to help hold the lead.  Not that the dog would make a break for freedom, he was far too devoted to his master, his gentle and loving nature helping keep Simon calm and gaining more interest in the world around him.

The years passed and Simon grew, both physically and mentally.  He had settled down at his high school and teachers reported of his joining in more.  He had even made a friend, although showed no interest outside of school hours, preferring only Barneys company.  His mother trusted him to take Barney on short walks on his own now, she knew they were both safe with each other. But one day on their return, she noticed with a jolt how slowly the dog walked these days.  His muzzle had turned to grey without her even realising.  The rescue centre hadn’t been exactly certain of Barneys age when he’d come to live with them.

Over the coming weeks, Barney grew even more tired and despondent. He remained in his basket in the kitchen for most of the day now, only getting out of it when hearing the bus pull up.  He would make his way to the door and stand there, tail wagging, as Simon burst in and pulled him into his arms.

Their walks consisted of treks round the garden now, a reminder of how it used to be when Barney first came to live with them.  Simon seemed to realise that’s all that they could do now.

Coming downstairs one morning, Simons mother realised that Barney hadn’t followed him upstairs as usual. He’d spent the night in his basket, and she noticed his breathing was shallow.  Once Simon had left for school, she carried the dog to her car and drove to the vets.

The vet laid Barney on the table and examined him carefully.  Once he’d finished, he turned to Simons mum.

“I’m pretty certain he’s got some form of cancer, but he’s also very old. I’m not sure putting him through any tests to confirm it will be beneficial I’m afraid. He wouldn’t survive treatment at his age, and he’s in a lot of pain.”

His eyes were gentle. “I’d say he’s only got a few weeks at most.  The kindest thing for him would be to let him go.”

Simons mum blinked back tears and felt the stirrings of panic rising within her.  Somehow, she’d never even considered this moment when they’d agreed to have him come to live with them, blindly ignored the fact that one day, Simon would have to say goodbye to his beloved friend, and was unlikely to even understand why.  She had no idea how she was going to explain it, but she did know she couldn’t do anything right now, she had to take him home.

Stroking Barneys head, she picked him up, pausing to pay the receptionist before carrying him out to her car, her tears falling onto his soft fur.  He wearily lifted his head and gave her face a small loving lick.  

They arrived home, and just as she was helping Barney out of the car, the school bus rounded the corner.  Barney leaped out, and in shock at his sudden burst of speed, the most he’d shown in the last few months, she failed to grab his collar.  She could only watch, sick with fear at the sound of the screeching brakes.  She heard a scream, not realising at first it was both hers and Simons, ripped from their throats simultaneously.

Barney lay in the road, Simon huddled over him, rocking and making a loud continuous groan.  His mother rushed over, crouching beside him, with her heart in her throat.  She knew with one glance he had gone.  Tears were falling from Simons eyes, it was, his mother realised, the most emotion he’d ever shown.  How terrible that it had taken his best friends death to elicit it.

The bus driver stood in the road, his eyes glistening too.  He knew how much Simon had loved his dog, the few words he’d spoken in all the time he’d been travelling were about his Barney.  He started to stammer his apologies but Simons mother just nodded softly at him.  She knew he wasn’t to blame.  She had no idea why Barney had suddenly bolted like that, where his energy had just appeared from.  Maybe he was aware of what was happening, she’d heard dogs were instinctive like that.  Maybe he’d simply had enough.  

The driver placed his hand on her shoulder and indicated towards Simon.  “Take him inside.  I’ll move the pup and call the vet”.

Simons mother didn’t see much of him for the next couple of days.  He refused to leave his room, refused all food and drink.  Finally she’d had enough, walking upstairs and knocking firmly on his door.  When there was no answer, she pushed it open.

Simon was laying on the floor, pushing his model cars into straight lines on the carpet.