Old Bones

by Kaleb Winne

We got my dog Casey when I was six years old, we traveled over two and a half hours to pick up the six month old energetic giant Shouzer from Nile's, Michigan. Being a small six year old and watching a huge black dog over a hundred pounds leap into the back of the van didn't scare me, instead it just amused me. The huge dog wasn't taken care of well and her hair was curly and covering her eyes so she could barely see. She was a wild huge puppy that is for sure. When my mother, my one year old little brother and I came home with the dog she instantly jumped around nearly tackling my grandpa and my own father who was a huge five foot eleven muscular man. 

As a puppy and living in a small Amish town called Nappanee Indiana we would take Casey to the park and just let her loose. She would run for hours nonstop sometimes just in circles chasing her own imagination. If she had a tail, probably that too. As we got older and grew up together I spent all my outside time with Casey playing in the snow. She hated gloves and would run up to me, gentle bite down removing my gloves and run away. She was such an odd fun dog. One summer she was eating a bone in the middle of our huge backyard when a hawk swooped down and stole it right from her paws. She looked around with her ears up like it disappeared and began barking at the ground and she heard me laughing and started to bark at me and wag her little nubbins for a tail. 

One day I came home from school, I was in fifth grade at the time and it was just me and my dad was home which was always odd because he always left for work right before I would come home because he worked nights and late shifts and sometimes I would only see him on the weekends due to school. But yet, my dad was still my hero. My dad was on the couch and wouldn't look at me. He was sweating horribly and shaking a little bit and wouldn't stop coughing. That night my mother took him to the hospital as my grandma stayed over watching us. 

The next day we were told, now keep in mind I am only in fifth grade at this time, that my dad has a 45% chance to live . . . till the end of the month due to a type of bone marrow cancer called Leukemia. My dad worked for Ryder and always worked on trucks, but before that he was over in Germany serving in the military working on tanks and pulling things from the ditches in a huge military tow truck. I always remember my sleepless nights I would go out to the living room past midnight and snuggle up against my dad as he sat on the couch watching television he would tell me all these crazy stories. I grew closer and closer with my dad as he was slowly fading away and even at that age I knew it. He always looked as pale as a ghost but he kept trying and trying to do things he knew he wasn't capable of doing. When things were tough he still stood strong. 

A few months later we moved to Florida to get better treatment leaving all my friends and family behind in Indiana I was completely alone. I had Casey and my little brother. My father was already proving those doctors wrong by surviving more than a month. I entered home schooling so things could be easier on the family and Casey slowly became my dog. We didn't live in the best neighborhood at that time. My bike, the same bike, was stolen and found three different times. Various other things in our shed was stolen but the day my mother took Casey for a walk was the day everything went down hill. 

My mother takes Casey and leaves taking her on a walk just down the road but not even ten minutes later we hear screaming as the front door nearly is thrown off its hinges.  Casey shot past her running in the house blood gushing from her throat and smearing against the walls. My dad didn't worry, he didn't panic, he grabbed Casey's collar and guided her to the shower. Casey yelped and cried. I remember crying as I cleaned the blood off the walls listening to MY dog, MY dog yelp in the shower. My father cleaned her off in the shower and my mother took care of the wound. My dad sat onto of the toilet seat. Casey sat looking up at him my dad's bloodied hands went through her fur, Casey was shaking and looked up at him crying softly. The wound never healed properly. The next three days we really took care of Casey. We let her sleep in a big chair in the living room. She slept most of the time and no one thought she would make it. I would sit next to the chair petting Casey as she slept. But, against all odds. Casey made it. My mother told us she was attacked by TWO pittbulls who tore Casey's neck/throat open. Casey did her job and protected my mother. In the end Casey latched onto me and was my best friend. I would take her on long walks through the forest and just let her run. She wouldn't go far without looking back or coming back to me playfully carrying a huge log or something. After all, she did weight over a hundred pounds. My father, would have Casey come to him on his bad days and he would just sit and pat Casey on the head softly, as his gums bled and he fell asleep. Casey would curl up in a ball next to his chair and sleep with him. Some nights when Casey knew my dad would be alright she would ease into my room and leap into my bed. Her one hundred pound butt nearly crushed me every time but I would wrap my arms around her and fall asleep using her as my body pillow.