Special One (what is probably going to be the final draft)
Intro: “Special One” is a piece that explores the idea of how a dog might think and react when he realizes that his owner is old and might soon die.
I looked up to see Special One standing from his chair. My grandfather once told me that these things-humans so I'm told-are immortal, chained to take care of us forever. Since my grandfather's passing, seemingly a lifetime ago, Special One's hair has turned white. His arms and legs shake, no matter how he tries to hide it. We no longer go on walks because Special One limps too much.
I walk over to help Special One out of his chair. He smiles down at me and pats my head. I, too, am growing old, so I treasure his every touch. I see that Special One is coming close to his end. After so many years, five hundred or so, I fear he has finally become mortal. He has had a good life, having his own mate and even a few puppies.
He grabs the door of the food holder and swings it open. Coldness spreads over me. Special One looks down at me. He throws me a bit of the food. I nibble at it, careful not to eat too fast, as that will make me sick. Special One wouldn't be able to get down to clean it up.
"You're a good boy, Duke," he said. Well, he whispered. Lately, his voice has softened greatly. Sounds shaky too. He must be weak. I sat and looked up to Special One. He bent over and grabbed his middle. He looked over at me and tried to cover up the pain.
"Special One!" I cried. He ignored me. I stood up. I needed to know how I could help him. He grabbed the counter and turned away from me, unable to keep his face under the control he wanted. "Special One!" I shouted. "Help! Help! Help!" Special One looked at me.
“Quiet . . . Duke,” he gasped. I cocked my head. He fell to the floor. The thump sickened me.
"Help! Special One has fallen!" I lay down and put my head on Special One's hand. I let out a squeak that I never knew I could make. He tried to move his other hand, but it fell limp.
"Good . . . boy . . . Du," The Special One took in a deep breath, "Duke." He started making barking noises that I’d only ever heard him make when he was terribly sick. He also let out some noises that I’d never heard him make before. It made me sick to my stomach. I let out another squeak. Deaths of these humans, these precious things, was something rare. Something special, though not in a good way. Especially my dear Special One, who has protected my family for generations.
Special One closed his eyes. I licked his face to try and keep him awake. He didn’t stir. I put my head back down.
"Special One,” I whispered.
I heard a low rumble. A car! I perked up and ran to a room where I could see. Maybe this other human could help Special One! I jumped up on the big chair and looked out the window. "Help! Help!" The car didn’t change directions. I looked at the front door. More specifically, the little door Special One had cut into the big one for my family. I looked back to where Special One lay on the floor. I stepped down from the big chair. There were humans in the house next door. I could go get them.
I ran as quickly as I could out the door. I crossed the grasses to the other house. "Help!" I cried outside the door. I pawed at the door. "Special One is dying!" I shouted louder. The big boy human walked out the door. He was considerably younger than Special one.
"Hey Duke, what are you doing out here?" He reached down as if to pet me. I grabbed the cloth on his leg and pulled. He stumbled after me. "Woah there buddy." I pulled harder. When we reached the door, I went in the little door, and human walked in. I led him to where Special One lay on the floor. He pulled something out of his pocket. "Yes, Mr. Gregor is on the floor. I don't think he has much time," he said into the device. "His must be 507 Main Street. I'll open the front door and send the dog out."
I followed the human out to the front grass, where he told me to sit and to stay. He went back inside. I knew the human would help Special One, so I sat. And I stayed. Soon, I heard a whistle unlike any I’d heard before from down the street. The whistle grew closer and closer until a big type of car that I’d never seen before came up into our block where Special One parked his car. Two men jumped out of the car with the lights and ran into the house. They came back carrying Special one and took him away.
For a few weeks, I lived with Special One’s oldest puppy, the one called Harold. He and his family took good care of me, and I loved being around all of Harold’s puppies. It made me remember the days back when Harold himself was small. I enjoyed my time with Harold and his new family, but it never felt quite right. I couldn’t find myself calling this place home. Not without Special One.
One fateful day, Harold tells me that Special One is in a nursing home (whatever that means) and will be living there. He told me that we could go visit him. We went to this strange place, and Harold took me in to see Special One. I leapt right into his lap and licked his face as he laughed and hugged me.Even though the place itself wasn’t home, it felt like home because I was once again in the lap of Special One. My Special One.
