Gone to live on a farm

Ben shifted gingerly, trying to straighten up as he began lilting to the right. The elevated head position of his adjustable bed helped him breath a bit easier, but comfort was hard to come by these days.

“Doris,” he said, “Do you mind straightening me up a little?”

The hospice nurse obliged with a gentle smile, and fluffed his pillow for good measure.

“Much better … much, much better, thanks. Sorry I’m so much trouble.”

“You’re no trouble at all, Ben. Whatever you need to be more comfortable, you just let me know.”

The end was very near for Ben now, and he was at peace with his fate. He figured 83 years – most of them filled with love and adventure – were plenty, and an eternal rest would mean an end to the infernal pain he had suffered over the past few months. But as his time slipped away, his mind was buzzing with memories – and one in particular kept popping up.

“I think I might be at that ‘burst of energy before I go’ stage, Doris. I just remembered something from way back. Can I tell you about it?”

“Of course,” Doris said, patting his right hand. “I’m all ears.”

Ben smiled.

“I had a bunch of dogs over the years – crazy about all of them – but when I was a little kid, I had this ol’ mutt named Estus. He had raggedy black fur and his left ear was always turned inside out. He wasn’t much to look at but, then again, neither was I. Guess that’s why me and him got along so well. Only thing, that dang dog was always trying to lick my face, and it drove me crazy. That was about the only time I ever got mad at him. Anyway, he was already an older dog when my folks gave him to me and when I started to get older, too, he slowed down. Couldn’t run much and didn’t like to chase balls or sticks. Idiot still tried to lick my face, though.

“One morning, I woke up and didn’t see him … he was always asleep at the foot of my bed. I thought maybe he had gone outside but when I asked ma, she said daddy had taken him off to live on a farm. Said he was too sick to stay in the city and the city was what was making him sick, but if he lived on a farm he could run and play all day … be happy again.”

Ben shook his head.

“I didn’t know they were just trying to let me down easy. About a week or two later we were going somewhere in daddy’s car and I saw this pretty red barn up on a hill beside the interstate, and I just knew that’s where Estus was living. I asked if we could stop and see him but they just ignored me. Wasn’t too long after that I realized Estus was gone and never coming back. You know what? I still miss that little guy. Shoot, I miss all my dogs.”

Ben coughed and then started wheezing.

“I think,” he said in a weak voice, “I’m gonna to go live on a farm now, Doris.”

Moments later, the nurse checked his pulse, and there was none. Ben’s breathing had also stopped.

“Goodbye, Ben,” Doris said, carefully covering his face with a sheet. “I’ll miss you.”

Ben couldn’t hear her, of course. How could he? All of his dogs were running around and barking. Plus, Estus was slurping the side of his face.

He didn’t get mad at the raggedy mutt this time, though. Ben just kissed the dog’s head, took a big stretch, and started walking toward that pretty red barn.