Freddogg Off The Chain

Love is a lark until it is tested. My parents loved each other and never anyone else. Too bad it all turned so tragic and so unlike any Chicken Soup bullshit or Hallmark Card tunnel of love amorous amusement ride to Ozzie and Harriet Nirvana.
The long story is not long enough so let’s rewind to a Valentines Day when I was such an incredibly annoying child racing around the house chasing the beagle who had become the rabbit.
I was just going Cape Cod crazy while on the bottom floor in the bedroom down the end of the hall my father lay in a hospital bed with metal bars on the sides. He was emaciated and almost senseless except for hearing. He barely had enough strength to grab the potato masher and bang the rails which meant he needed help or in this case “knock it the fuck off and stop driving everybody crazy.”
I stopped on the stairs and did characters through the see through squares of the knickknack shelves. My face dislodged a little vase of a man and woman holding hands with a heart in the middle. It read:”I love you.” The vase crashed and the little guy broke off and shattered to bits.
My mother walked over to pick up the pieces but the guy was gone and he wasn’t going to be put back together again. Tragic symbolism was everywhere. A young wife and her young life scattered in ceramic splinters. I stood there frozen in the moment. The beagle shut down and sprawled head first under the sofa.
I had killed my father on Valentine’s Day. The bars down the hallway were rattling. But no one answered.

Beagle Freddogg