The Yellow Ball

I had been in the shelter for longer than I could remember. I hated it there. The other dogs barked and whined all day and night. I understood why, none of us wanted to be there but it was still irritating. The smell of wet fur mixed with bleach made my nose ache. We were looked after by the humans who worked there but it was horrible. I couldn’t ever see myself leaving. Every day I sat in my corner, chewing the yellow tennis ball I loved so much.

People came in often, but nobody ever gave me a second look. Even though I was barely grown up myself it was the puppies they’d look at first. I had only seen two summers so I did not understand what was wrong with me. Then one day, everything changed, my human appeared. There was something about him, he smelled different. He looked tired and like me. Sad. He stood in front of my cage just looking at me. He did not say my name, he just crouched down and stared. I nudged my ball towards him hoping for a reaction. He looked from the ball to me and smiled, it looked like it was the first time he’d smiled in a while. My tail wagged excitedly, hitting the sides of the cage but it did not hurt, I felt happy. I had been noticed. Finally. In that moment, we chose each other.

I don’t fully remember how we got to what I would now call home, well that’s what he called it.

“Time to go home now boy” A smile stretching across the humans face. “Let’s go.” Was the first thing he ever said to me, the first time I remember truly being happy as he walked me out of the front doors of the shelter. He was my dad now.

I was so excited that I fell asleep in what he called a car. A funny shaped thing with four wheels made of cold metal like my cage. The seats were much more comfortable than my cage though. When we arrived, he softly nudged me awake, picked me up in a blanket that smelt like the horrible smoke he breathed in back then. I did not mind it though, I was home.

Every morning for a long time he would wake up at the same time, making the same bitter-smelling drink in a white mug that said, ‘World’s number one dad’ on it.” I thought that was always strange as it was just me and him. Every day without fail after he had finished his drink and smoked his smelly stick he would take me for a walk. I would wait patiently by the door, my lead hanging from my mouth. I loved walks, the fresh air felt and smelt great, the squirrels I used to chase until they ran up a tree scared. We would always take my ball from the shelter with us. I’d drop it at his feet, and he would laugh and smile. I loved it when he smiled, it made me happy.

I did not understand why on some morning he would stay in bed a little bit longer, the routine would remain the same, but the times would change. He would have two smelly sticks instead of one. Some days he would smell like he did that day in the shelter. He would forget to take the ball on the walks.

“Sorry Gizmo, I forgot” he would say as I walked by his side looking up at him waiting for him to pull it out of his pocket.

We’d get home from our walks, and he would sit on the sofa, a machine with moving images on in front of him and he wouldn’t move for hours. I always stayed close though, nudging him until he would finally let me up and on to his lap. I would lick his face, sometimes it tasted salty, but when I did, he would always smile. I liked to think he was smiling because of me.

Over time, seasons changed, he started to take me to different places. I chased waves along the beach, leaving little paw prints in the sand. Or as he called them, my toe beans. He ran with me through leaves that had fallen from the sky in the park. The tennis ball we took everywhere faded over time and cracked but neither one of us wanted to replace it anymore. He tried once; I destroyed it. My little yellow ball was my favourite toy. Eventually I started to notice happier smells; Joy, laughter, sunlight and the smell of fresh cut grass. I always tried to remember each moment we spent together because I knew that these days were special.

Eventually the weather got colder, the walks got shorter because the rain made me cold, he brought somebody home. She came straight in the house and sat in my spot on the sofa, the spot next to him. I decided then and there that I did not like her. That did not last though. One morning I got up early and beat her to the spot. She did not mind, she looked at me, a big smile on her face and just sat next to me. I was scared at first as I had never really been that close to her before. She scratched my ear in just the right way and at that moment, I forgot why I did not like her. After a little while she became part of our little pack, and I loved her like I loved him. It even got to the point I trusted her with my ball.

A couple more seasons passed and my dad and the lady human were spending a lot more time together. Lady human would come on walks with us, play with me and throw my ball, my dad did not like this, she could throw further than him. I did not mind though, I saw a ball being thrown and I brought it back. The thing I liked the most was when she would sneak me human food when nobody else was looking. It tasted delicious, especially the green little tree shaped thing she would give me. Dad even stopped smelling like those smelly sticks; it had been that long I couldn’t remember the last time he had one with his morning drink. Lady human was good for him. Good for us. There was one thing I did not like though, every so often at night I was told I had to sleep downstairs. I always thought that was mean.

Then one day they brought home something new. I had been left at who they referred to as Grandma and Grandpa for the weekend. When I was here I was spoiled, they called me their grandchild, I did not know what it meant but they would feed me a lot. When I was finally brought back by dad there was something in my spot. A small looking dad, tiny and loud. It smelled like milk and curiosity. I had no idea what it was other than it was human shaped and had no hair. Dad picked it up and cautiously walked over to me allowing me close enough to introduce myself. I sniffed and I was so excited.

“This is your little brother Giz. He’s only small though so you have to be gentle…Ok?” My dad proudly stated.

I now had a brother and they were so proud of it and I was proud of them. I loved it like they loved me.

At first they watched my brother and spent more time with him but I did not mind. I still got my walks but now they were just a bit slower with my brother in tow. At night I no longer cared about sleeping with dad and now my mum, I slept near my brother. I stayed close; sniffing, watching, keeping the baby safe at night. I had a new job now, to protect my brother. Eventually my brother learned how to throw my ball. It did not go far but I fetched it back anyway. It became the new game and everyone liked it. My tail wagging, the little one giggling and mum and dad laughing.

Brother learned my name early, even before learning most other words. ‘Daddy, Mummy and Gizmo’ were said a lot then. He couldn’t really say my name properly but I knew it was me he wanted.

“Gishmo… Gish… Bawl… Bawl.” he would shout whenever he wanted to play.

Soon he did not just want to play, my brother was following me everywhere I went. His tiny feet pattering behind me, following me from room to room. If I stopped, he would stop. If I lay down, he would lay down. He would sometimes sit on me which I did not like but he looked happy so I let him. Every night I followed everybody upstairs to bed; we would tuck in my brother first. I would lay quietly curled up at the edge of his bed listening to the stories they would tell him. Stories about something called a dragon and a knight. I did not really understand what was happening, but I liked being with them. It quickly became one of my favourite parts of the day, second to the walks.

Life was good. My brother was growing, healthy, happy, and loved. Just like I was. Dad and Mum were happy and smiling all the time. The house felt full of love and joy, I hoped it was always going to be this way. Some nights I would stay awake whilst everyone slept, watching them, smelling their happiness in the air trying to memorize it. I did not know it at the time but life had more surprises waiting.

Years later dad came home alone like he had been doing a lot, this time though, it felt different. My brother hadn’t been home in a while, he was at Grandma’s. I hadn’t seen mum since the sun was warm on our walks. It was cold and rainy now. He looked sadder than usual when he came home this time, he didn’t smell right, he smelled heavy and looked tired. When he saw me waiting for him to come home he walked over to me, crouched down like that day at the shelter.

“I’m sorry buddy… You won’t see mum for a long time… You won’t understand, she’s not been well. She’s not coming home.” He struggled to say through whines as he scratched my head.

I licked his hand gently; it tasted salty just like when I first came home. I liked the scratching, but I did not want him to feel bad.

“I love you Gizmo.”

He was right, I did not understand the words, but I did understand something had changed. Over time not seeing mum did make me sad and I just wished I knew where she had gone so I could see her again.

The smell from the sticks and the bitter-smelling drink started filling the food room again in the morning. It would still hang in the air when we got back from our walk. The house, now quieter without her. My brother spent a lot of time at Grandma’s, sometimes I would also spend time there and for a moment it was like nothing had changed. I liked it there, it smelt like biscuits and soft blankets. I loved my dad but I didn’t want to go home whenever I was there.

When I was home, I tried; I really did but it was hard. I wanted dad to be happy, I tried to make him happy and every now and then I would see that same smile he used to give me when I gave him my ball or licked his face. No matter what I did, he didn’t move the same way anymore. He had gone back to watching his moving images. I didn’t like it. So, I tried even harder. When he did move I followed him, room to room like my brother used to do with me, pressing my body against his legs if he stood still for too long. I brought him our ball, licked his hands, his face, any part of him I could reach. Sometimes he would rest his hand on my head and scratch like he used to but it did not feel the same.

After some time the sun eventually came back out and things seemed to be getting better. My brother was back home and my dad seemed happier. The smell still lingered for a while in the morning and then suddenly it was gone. My ball got thrown and our walks got longer, fun again. Dad even took me and my brother to the beach. I did my job. I fixed him.

More seasons passed, my brother grew and could walk, talk and run. Dad remained happy but his fur had become a little white over the years. Same with me, my once black fur now speckled white. I never got a new mum and I still did not know where she had gone. It remained us three, still a pack, but smaller. Closer.

I was not as fast as I once was but I was still full of life, or at least I thought. My legs felt heavier in the mornings, stiff and unable to bend properly. Especially in the cold. Stairs took longer than they used to but dad knew this, he would wait for me as we walked down together. Dad seemed to know something I did not, staying closer to me more often than not. If he saw me struggling to get on the couch he would pick me up and hold me. That was my new spot on the couch, on him. Our walks would take longer because my legs just couldn’t keep up. He would throw the ball for me still but he wouldn’t throw it as far.

My brother was bigger now. Not the same size as dad but he was taller than me, even when sitting down on the couch watching moving images of a blue dog. He could say my name properly now. He, like mum, would drop me food when he ate although I do not think he was doing it on purpose as he would cry when he dropped something he liked.

I began to notice things were changing again but not in the same way they had previously. My legs hurt all the time now, it wasn’t just in the morning but it was all the time. The stairs were impossible to get up, I spent all of my time downstairs, I didn’t like this. I could not sleep with my dad or brother. Chasing my ball had become something I wasn’t allowed to do anymore, I still played with it but it was with dad sat on the floor.

One evening after I thought everyone had gone to bed I smelt dad sitting at the food room table. I couldn’t really see or hear him anymore but I could certainly smell him. He smelt sad again. I couldn’t smell my brother so I knew he must have been upstairs. As I got closer I could just about see he had my old yellow ball in his hands. He wasn’t throwing it or playing with it, he was just holding it. I rested my nose on the only part of him I could reach, his foot.

“Hey Giz.” He whispered, barely audible to me as he reached down to scratch my favourite spot. “You’ve been the best dog. I want you to know that.” He continued as my tail thumped softly against the hard, cold, floor.

The next morning was odd. Dad made this delicious smelling food he would eat but he didn’t eat it, he put it in my bowl. Lots of it. I think he used to call it bacon. After breakfast we still went on our walk, except this time, this time we got in the car and he took me and my brother to the beach again. It had been a long time since I had been there, or at least it felt like a long time. The water smelt the same, salt and happiness. I learned a long time ago to not drink it. Dad for the first time since I can remember threw my yellow ball. Not far, but far enough for me to attempt to chase it. My legs ached but I didn’t care, this was fun. My brother ran beside me, able to keep up with his little strides.

“Good boy buddy.” Dad cheered as he crouched in the sand and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me on the side of my face.

I loved that day. We stayed until the day was getting cooler and the water getting closer. We got home and there was a smell I recognised. It wasn’t mum but she was just as kind. Everyone sat with me on the couch, my blanket underneath me, my old yellow ball resting in front of my face. The kind human knelt in front of me on the floor. I felt tired, the tired I’d get after a long walk.

“I love you…” Dad whispered. “You’ve done good.”

“By Gizmo, I’ll mish you,,,” My brother said, his head resting next to mine. “Say hi to mummy for me.”

I was happy, I was loved, I had done my job. I loved my family. Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be and for the first time in a long time I felt no pain.