A Dog's Best Friend

A Dog’s Best Friend

"You've heard of the British Nation and the French Nation? Well, this is the Imagination. And when you get there, you can do almost anything you want."

-Kris Kringle, Miracle on 34th Street

Reality to dream to delusion. This was the life of Riley.

“Riley, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure, Scoots. I feel sick as a dog.”

This was always hard on Scoots. He knew his best friend, Riley, a stout, tricolor five-year-old beagle, had struggled with it for years. Scoots had tried everything: gentle persuasion, fierce argument, video clips, and mirrors of all sizes. He agonized over hurting his best friend, but he had decided long ago that the truth was the best medicine.

“Riley… you are a dog.”

This was it, the entirety of the problem, the cross many must bear as they struggle to determine their true identity, their purpose, their destiny, their place in this world. It can happen. The boy raised by wolves thought he was a wolf. The lion raised by sheep thought he was a sheep. The swan raised by ducks thought he was just that, a duck, and an ugly one at that. It could be understood then that Riley, raised by people, thought he was one.

“Scoots, you’re such a kidder, but it’s getting a little old. Sometimes I wonder if you’re jealous. I mean… there’s nothing wrong with being a dog, but it’s certainly not as cool as being a human. It’s all good. Don’t worry. Even though I’m a person now, you’ll always be my best friend.”

“Riley, you pee on fire hydrants, you lick yourself, you bark at the moon, chew on furniture, and chase rabbits. How can you possibly think you’re not a dog?”

“Those are activities of choice, Scoots. I just like doing that stuff.”

Scoots, under his breath…

“Oh my God…”

They no longer did many of the things they used to do together, dog-things, fun things, silly things, and Riley’s identity delusion was putting a strain on their relationship. It was mid-December, and Scoots had set a deadline for himself. He would convince Riley that he was a dog by the end of the year so they could start the new year with everything back on track. Riley's return to the real world would be Scoots' Christmas present to himself.

“So, you’re not feeling well today, Riley?”

“Nope, sicker than a dog.”

Scoots seized the opening.

“Well then, maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

“Good idea. I’m going to the mall tomorrow to see Santa and tell him what I want for Christmas. I need to be sharp so I don’t forget something. My list is pretty long.”

Scoots could only close his eyes, shake his head, and sigh as he remembered better days.

----------

Scoots was a dog of high moral character, but he was not averse to a little canine chicanery if the ends would justify the means. He long believed his friend needed professional help, and today the opportunity presented itself.

“I made a doctor’s appointment for you, Riley. It’s probably nothing serious…maybe a touch of the flu or something you ate, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. We can go right now.”

Despite Riley’s insistence that he was blessed with traits reserved for humans, he couldn’t read the sign outside the clinic- Murphy and Gibbs, Doctors of Animal Psychiatry.

“You wait here, Riley. I need to talk to the doctor about your pet insurance coverage.”

“Pet insurance? What are you talking about? I’ve got Humana.”

“Oh, that’s right. I just want to make sure what your out-of-pocket will be for the visit.”

“I don’t have pockets, Scoots.”

“Oh… yes, that’s true. I forgot about that. I meant your deductible.”

Scoots had informed the clinic of the purpose of the visit when he made the appointment. Murphy and Gibbs were both on hand as each had great interest in the case.

Murphy: “I don’t believe we’ve ever had a case like this before.”

Gibbs: “There was that poodle years ago whose owner trimmed its hair to match her own style, and that caused some issues, but nothing quite like this.”

Scoots: “Do you think you can help him?”

Gibbs: “Maybe. It depends on how extreme the delusion is. What types of unusual behavior does he exhibit?”

Scoots: “He puts his four feet in shoes and tries to walk around.”

Murphy: “Mmm…”

Scoots: “And he sits in a booster seat whenever he’s riding in the car.”

Gibbs: “That could just be a safety issue. What else?”

Scoots: “He pretends to read the newspaper, especially the Sunday funnies; once I saw him wearing glasses; and… this is embarrassing… sometimes he gets a leash and takes me for a walk.”

Murphy: “Interesting.”

Gibbs: “It seems like your friend is in deep. What do you think, doctor?”

Murphy: “We could try shock therapy.”

Scoots: “What’s that?”

Gibbs: “We put a shock collar on him… nothing lethal but enough to give him a good jolt. You’d have the remote, and every time your friend exhibits human-like behavior, you zap him. We’ve found it to be quite effective to deter undesirable behavior.”

Murphy: “Or, he sounds like a good candidate for a frontal lobotomy.”

Scoots: “What’s that?”

Murphy: “Have you seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

Scoots: Oh… yeah. Don’t you do things that are a little less extreme, like putting a guy on a sofa and just talking him through his problems?”

Gibbs: “Too time-consuming, and a lot of our clients are real nut-jobs. We could talk to them until the cows came home, and it wouldn’t do any good. I think your friend falls into that category.”

Murphy: “We could just medicate the crap out of him. We’ve got stuff that can turn him into a zombie who won’t even know his own name, much less give any thought to whether he was a dog or a human.”

Gibbs: “So, what do you want for your friend- shock collar, saw half his brain off, or put him night-night with drugs?”

Scoots: “Uh… I’ll get back to you on that.”

----------

“I don’t understand, Scoots. Why couldn’t the doctors see me today?”

“I don’t know, Riley, some kind of scheduling conflict, I guess.”

Back to square one. Many dogs would have given up by this time, but Scooter was a tough little guy, and he was driven by his concern for his dear friend. He hated to see the other dogs making fun of Riley in the neighborhood and at the dog park. He was teased relentlessly over his claim to be human.

“Hey, Riley, do you take food home in a doggy-bag or a people-bag? Ha? Ha, ha, ha.”

“Hey, Riley, why can’t you drink out of a straw? Ha, ha, ha.”

“Hey, Riley, how come I haven’t seen you in People Magazine? Ha, ha, ha.”

Scoots would try again.

“Riley, we have to talk.”

Scoots chose their special place at City Park. It was a small clearing surrounded by tall evergreens with spreading branches, now covered with snow. They used to come here as puppies to play in the grass and chase anything that moved.

“Remember how we would come here on sunny afternoons and play… just do little dog-things… chase butterflies, run in circles, and just kick back and take a nap. Those were good times, weren’t they, Riley?”

“They sure were, Scoots.”

“And remember how little kids we didn’t even know would be so excited to see us and come over to pat us on the head and rub our tummies? Those were good times, weren’t they, Riley?”

“For sure.”

“And remember how our families would bring us here and throw a ball or frisbee for us to chase, and the kids would sneak us treats off the picnic table? Those were good times, weren’t they, Riley?”

“Yes, those were great times.”

“Riley, all those things we were doing back then are things that dogs do. We could be doing fun things like that again. Don’t you miss it?”

“Yeah, I do. In a way, I guess it’s too bad I’m not a dog anymore.”

Scoots kept talking, nothing changed, the sun went down, the night air grew colder, and some critter was making scary noises in the woods. They went home.

----------

The Greeks had Pythia and the Oracle of Delphi. The local canine population had Luna in the abandoned mine up in the majestic mountain towering above this small town. Scoots was at wit’s end, and he would now seek the advice of the aging crucible of wisdom. If anyone could show him how to lead Riley back to the real world, Luna would be the one.

Scoots was a very talented Maltipoo, but he was not good at lying or being sneaky. His mission was discovered at the launch.

“Hey, Scoots, where are you off to?”

“Oh… hi, Riley. I didn’t see you there.”

“Where are you going? The sun’s not even up yet.”

“Who, me? Uh… nowhere.”

“You’re wearing that little hat and the coat your owner got you. You’re not going up the mountain, are you?”

“What mountain?”

“Scoots, what’s wrong with you? The giant mountain right at the edge of town. That mountain.”

“Oh, that mountain. No, of course not. Why would I go up the mountain? I mean I wouldn’t be going to see Luna or anything like that. I’m going to see my Grandma.”

“Your Grandma died two years ago.”

“My other Grandma.”

“She lives in Portugal.”

“My other-other Grandma. She’s not really my Grandma. Lucy… she’s just a good friend of the family. She just seems like a grandma to me. I don’t talk about her a lot.”

Fortunately, Riley wasn’t the Einstein of the litter.

“Oh... ok, well, stay safe and warm.”

---------

The path was steep and narrow, but well-worn from countless previous treks by troubled dogs of all varieties, shapes, and sizes. Luna didn’t necessarily solve all their problems, but the visits always brought a sense of peace and security. The stress and burden of decision-making evaporated into the wispy clouds at altitude as the petitioners wrapped themselves in the comfort of the words of Luna. There was no need to worry about anything, as following Luna’s advice was always the right thing to do.

By noon, Scoots wished he had brought a lunch. He picked a few berries along the way, but he couldn’t remember which were safe to eat.

He met several other dogs coming back down the mountain, the most interesting being a newly married golden lab couple who had early-onset marital problems. Scoots was embarrassed as they were more than eager to tell their story.

Husband: “It wasn’t long before I understood why they call the females of our species bitches. I didn’t think I’d make it a full year.”

Wife: “He is such a slob. Labs are supposed to like water, but Bart here hasn’t taken a bath in weeks.”

Scoots: “You’re both smiling, so I guess Luna solved your problems.”

Wife: “Not really. She just gave us the PAT advice.”

Scoots: “What’s PAT?”

Husband: “PAT- patience, acceptance, and tolerance. She’s a bitch, and I stink. What is, is.”

Wife: “Yep, he sure does stink sometimes, and I guess I can be a real bitch, but… we’re married. You take the bad with the good. It's part of the package.”

Husband: “Have a good day!”

The newly enlightened couple went merrily on their way, and Scoots continued his climb, puzzled by the simplicity of the cure that brought the two returning pilgrims back to the world of marital bliss.

----------

Luna’s dwelling made Mother Theresa’s lifestyle seem extravagant. Disillusioned with the troubling trends in modern society, she sought refuge at the entrance of the forgotten tunnel that once welcomed hordes of men seeking their treasure in gold. Scoots balked at the sight of the rotting and cracked support timbers at the opening of the mine, but after a five-hour climb, there was no turning back. He gingerly entered the shadowy tunnel lit only by a single torch on a crumbling wall.

“Hello…”

Nothing.

“Hello… Luna…”

“Yes, come in.”

The voice was a melody, soft and reassuring. Scoots stepped forward and saw Luna, a large dog of uncertain heritage with a heavy dose of white blended into her long, shaggy brown hair, lying on a ragged piece of a faded Oriental rug. She slowly raised her head as her eyes narrowed to focus on her latest visitor.

“Come closer.”

Scoots slowly approached the legendary figure he had heard about since he was a puppy.

“Luna, I have…”

“It’s Scoots, right?”

Luna’s words nearly knocked Scoots off all four of his feet.

“You… know me?”

“Yes, I was expecting you.”

“What… how could you have been expecting me?”

“Your friend Riley was up here yesterday. He’s been worried about you.”

“What? Riley’s worried about me?”

“Yes, he told me to keep my eye out for a dusty white Maltipoo in need of a trim.”

The grooming comment caused Scoots to give himself a quick once-over. He made a mental note to discuss this further with Riley.

“He said you’re going through a hard time, and…”

“Me? No, I’m not having a hard time. He’s the one with the problem. He…”

“Riley says you seem to be suffering from some kind of separation anxiety.”

“What’s that?”

“He thinks that because he’s a human now, you’ll lose him as a friend. And sometimes he worries that you get so upset with him that you won’t want him as a friend. It hurts him that you won’t accept him for who he is.”

“I would never do anything that would hurt Riley.”

“But apparently, you keep telling him he’s not a human. Is that true?”

“Well, yes… but that’s because he’s not a human.”

“But he thinks he is.”

“But he can’t go around acting like he’s a human.”

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s not real, it’s not…”

“Is it hurting anyone?”

“I guess not… but other dogs have been teasing him about it.”

“Does that bother Riley?”

“I don’t think he even notices it.”

“Scoots, have you ever dreamed, not a dream when you’re sleeping, but when you’re awake, a daydream when you imagine things that may not be real but make you feel good?”

Scoots took a moment to consider it.

“I guess.”

“Tell me a dream of yours, Scoots.”

“Well, when I was little, I imagined being locked in a Milk Bone factory overnight.”

Luna smiled.

“Anything else?”

“I still dream that the collie down the street has a crush on me.”

Luna laughed.

“It’s good to dream, Scoots. It’s a gift. God save us if we lose our ability to dream.”

“What do you dream about, Luna?”

“Well, when I was young, I spent an entire summer thinking I was the Yankees’ second baseman… batted over 300 that year. And when I got a little older… those wonderful teenage years… I dreamed I was a rescue dog on Baywatch.”

“And now?”

“Now I dream I was young, running through tall grass with my ears flapping in the breeze, leaping off a pier into the cool water to get a stick…”

Scoots saw the sadness in her eyes.

“… and sleeping on the floor in the living room on Christmas Eve with Susan and Stevie, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa.”

Scoots thought he saw a little tear forming in the corner of Luna’s eye.

“Riley thinks he’s a human? I don’t care if he thought he was Ali or Jordan or the Easter Bunny. Let him dream, Scoots, let him dream.”

----------

Christmas Eve. Riley had been grousing around the house because his family wouldn’t take him to Christmas Eve Mass. His mood improved when it came time for him to open his presents. Riley tore through his gifts- a squeaky toy, an indestructible bone to chew on, and a new pillow to sleep on. One crudely wrapped present remained, his gift from Scoots. He opened this one slowly, carefully. First a smile, then a hint of a tear as Riley stared at the gift from his friend- bright blue bunny slippers… four of them.