Jack

A short story school assignment related to family

                   Jack

 

It was a sunny November day. Not so sunny for the need of a cover for the car, but sunny enough to need sunscreen for skin. Not so sunny for there not to be a cloud in the sky, but sunny enough for dogs to seek shelter in brick homes. It had been two weeks Frank thought. Nearly three. Just then someone knocked on the door. Frank thought for a second, then decided better, and got out of bed and walked across his scratched wooden floor. He opened the door already knowing who the people on the other side probably were. “Mum, Dad” Frank said with monotony. Mum was the first to speak, as usual, Frank thought, “We were just checking up on you- making sure everything was ok”. Was it? Frank thought. “Yeah everything is fine, you guys shouldn’t have gone out of your way just to check up on me”, Frank replied, briefly pausing, “I’m an adult now”. This seemed to tick his father off, as his father shouted, “How are you a man if your wife is out working right now while you’re still at home being a baby”. Both parties were silent. You could tell just by his father’s face that he meant what he said, but at the same time was understanding of his son’s situation. And just like that his parents were gone as fast as they had stayed.

 

It had been a couple hours, which felt like minutes, since Frank’s parents had left. He looked out the window. Five, no- no maybe six. Maybe it was 6’oclock. He could hear Ainsley pulling into their driveway. He started thinking about Jack. He thought about how Jack used to love going to the park and the beach. He remembered the first time he took Jack to the park. He was so excited he was running around as fast as his tiny little legs could take him. Jack was friendly- too friendly sometimes Frank thought to himself with a smile. Frank wondered who Jack’s closest friends were. Most likely Sam and Max, Frank thought. Charlie lived across the street too, but he mostly ignored Jack, Frank thought. At that moment his thought was broken by the sound of a closing door. The side door opens with his wife strutting in with her red velvet high heels. He could tell just by her face what she was thinking. “I wish my husband didn’t quit his job”, “Why is he so useless”, were the things most likely going through her mind he thought. She says, “You know it was surprising he even lived to 12 years old”. She had been sad too at first, but unlike Frank had gotten over it fairly quickly. She continues, “I know we can’t ever replace Jack but maybe we should try to- “. She doesn’t finish. She left after that. She left him with his thoughts.

 

Jack was about to turn 13. Doctor Smith said there was nothing he could do. That it was terminal.

He remembered how Jack changed leading up to his passing. Jack started barely touching his food, occasionally vomiting what he did eat. He didn’t play as much, preferring more to rest. Frank also noted to himself how Jack wouldn’t always respond when he called for him. His eyesight had also been deteriorating, sometimes he was even walking into walls. It was painful for him to see jack like this, but he knew it was far more painful for Jack. He bought creams to help with the pain, pills to help with the vomiting, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything in the end.

 

It had been 18 hours since Ainsley left. He was sure she was at her sister’s. Unlike Jack he knew she would come back. Eventually. Jack wouldn’t. Ever.

After hours that felt like days, he knew it was time. He walked to his kitchen opening the backdoor. He picked up the box that had been lying on his porch for so long. He walked past a mound of dirt and placed the box down. He started picking up dirt from the mound and gently started placing it on the box. After there was enough dirt to completely cover the box he finally said, “Goodbye, Jack”. He buried Jack. He buried his Jack Russel Terrier.

 

Reviews

[Saddi Moix]

I connected to your story because I love dogs and I have a Jack Russell Terrier. You have described how our pets are very special to us and how hard it is to move on when they die. It wasn't until the end of the story that I knew you were writing about your beloved pet. At the beginning of the story, I thought that you might be writing about the lose of a child. Our pets are like our children. Some parts of your story need more details, but it is still a well written story.
#lrwp2018