To The Dog That Accompanied Me For Two Years
Originally written in Chinese, July 2020
To this day, I still remember the autumn from four years ago, my sister drove me and my father to a place where I was about to live for two years. The weather was tremendous that day, with a few clouds and a dry climate. Colorado, at an altitude of more than 1,000 meters, had exceptionally plenty of sunshine. The sunshine hit the bodies and warmed everyone by the sidewalks. About 10 minutes later, the car drove through the highway and then slowly turned into a neighborhood. Almost all houses in this community were bungalows, and seem like this could be a long-established area. In front of each house, garages can hold one or two cars, and in front of the garage, were the private lawns, automatic sprinklers were rotating on some of them. Some people had simple, height-adjustable basketball hoops in front of their houses, and there were children practicing shooting baskets. It was the first time I came to the United States at that time, I was nervous and excited about the strange and rare things. The car drove forward, a left turn, forward, then a right turn, and then stopped. My sister told me the house on the corner of this street was the one we were going to visit.
The house was not big, to be honest. It was almost the same as the ones we saw before, a bungalow with a dark gray roof. Part of the walls were made of red bricks. The rest were painted with common beige color. Three windows could be seen from the front, with not many decorations. A green lawn was in front of them, and an exceptionally strong tree stood in the middle of the lawn, looking perhaps 5 meters tall. Got out of the car, we walked on a winding concrete path, stepped on two brown steps, and got to the door. There was a park-like wooden bench at the front, but covered with a lot of dark and dirty ashes, it seemed that no one had sat there for a long time. Rang the doorbell and we waited at the door. From various details, I could assume the family living here should be rather old and probably stayed here for long years.
Soon after the doorbell rang, a dog barked from inside, and then we heard a woman saying something. Then, the door on the inside was pulled open, and we were greeted by a white, blond-haired woman who was about fifty years old. After some simple greetings, she opened the outer glass-made door, and warmly welcomed the three of us into the house.
As I was about to take off my shoes on the carpet, a dog ran in our direction. Chestnut brown hair, round eyes with almost invisible whites, a coffee bean-colored nose. Medium-sized dog, with a slightly heavy body. I never raised a dog in my faraway home country, so I felt a sense of awe for her.
The woman told us this is their dog, named Casey, loves people, and no need to be scared. I stroked the dog, then she stuck out her tongue and breathed out, wagged her rabbit-like tail slightly.
We followed the woman to the table, and later a man came in through the garage door. We all sat down together, after drinking a glass of cold water, we briefly introduced ourselves and learned that the woman was named Ronda, and the man was named Terry. They would soon become my host family in the United States, which meant that, without accidents, we may stay together for four years.
The host and hostess chatted with us about the family situation, the school I was going to, and some random things. After chatter and laughter, they took us to see the room that was prepared for me. I was generally satisfied, the only problem was — — the bed was a bit small, but that’s still fine, acceptable for me. After all the remarks were over, we took a few pictures together and waved goodbye to each other. Everything was great. When we left, the dog was also watching us leave by the door.
This was the first time we met.
We were roughly set. That family feels nice, enthusiastic, and welcoming. Afterward, I stayed at my sister’s house for a few days before moving to the host family.
When I came to the host family, I still remember that I ate tomato-flavored spaghetti the first night. It was a pretty good dinner because I couldn’t accept much American-styled dining. I was still rather shy that day, so most of the dinner talks were started by the host family.
I didn’t speak much English, and always felt a sore throat when speaking it, so I was closer to the dog because I can communicate with her soul without speaking. This is a very strange and interesting phenomenon in the world, I thought.
As the days passed, I became closer to this family and the dog. Every day after school, I would take the school bus home. And every time the door was opened, the doorbell would automatically ring downstairs. This is because Ronda is a hairstylist who does work in the basement, so she installs a bell just to look out for who’s coming in. Every time I open the door, when the bell rang, Casey, who was with Ronda, would rush upstairs, wag her tail, and whirl in circles to greet me. At that time, I would cook a packet of noodles in the kitchen every afternoon, and every time I did, the dog would come up and stare at me for food.
I don’t remember what day it was when I chatted with the family at the dinner table, and figured out that the dog was about 12 years old. She is quite old, I thought.
Casey, like the breath of this house, can indeed feel the aging. She usually didn’t like to play very much. She often lies on the cold tiled floor in the living room, but usually gets active in the afternoon. At night, she would lie in the living room with Ronda and Terry. But I couldn’t say that the dog had no energy because when I held her treat in mid-air, she would keep jumping up, down, up and down for it, just like a lively goldfish.
Good things will not last long, just as humans cannot gain eternal life. Later, my relationship with the host family went bad. The main reason was cultural differences and lack of mutual understanding. At that time, I was deep in depression. It seemed that there was nothing in my life that was worthy of happiness. I grew up thinking that I was a child who lacked love, so I always needed love, and what I was looking forward to at the time was an inspiring hug. I didn’t know many people and didn’t dare to ask, so I hugged the dog. Everytime I hugged her, she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t move, and just silently accompany me, she gave me strength. About half of the comfort in my heart comes from this old dog.
In the second year, maybe because I was with her longer, so our relationship grew really well. Every day when I came back from school, Casey would greet me warmly and then play with me.
One time, I was drinking Coke in my room. After I finished drinking, she followed up and stared at the Coke bottle in my room. She tried to get it, but I kept teasing her, by not giving her the bottle. After a while, the dog looked a little angry and put on a particularly arrogant posture. I had no choice but to pass the bottle to her, but by that time, the dog had lost interest in the bottle already.
Although Casey was old, she still made me worry, she would do wrong things like a child. Once my sister received a large box of unwanted chocolates, which happened to be taken by me. I put it on the desk that day, and went to the living room to play Xbox games. I returned to the bedroom about two hours later, and found the whole box of chocolates on the carpet. Counting, half of a box was eaten. At that time, I was so scared and afraid that the dog would get seriously ill and die. I panicked for a whole week, and only really felt relieved when I found that she had no bad reaction to it.
Still thinking about it, a 15-year-old boy who took food, and waved it around the dog every day, always liked to watch her jump until she was exhausted, and liked to watch her spend a day of energy for half a piece of dog treat. We haven’t experienced great challenges together, but maybe it’s due to time, we had a tightly connected bond. I was enjoying these times, and I have also wondered if the dog would suddenly leave us due to age issues. Persecutory delusional, this is a definition I gave to myself. No matter when I am doing anything, I always think that something unlucky will happen to myself or someone around me. Of course, almost none of the things I had imagined happened. Murphy’s law, didn’t seem to apply to me.
After the second year of living with this family, I transferred to another school and left the family at the same time. Since then, I had been farther and farther away from the dog.
The day after I left there, Ronda sent me a picture. In that picture, Casey was lying in the empty room I had cleaned up.
She missed me.
Later, I occasionally went back to visit Ronda, Terry and Casey. But Casey always seemed not enthusiastic enough, maybe she had forgotten some memories with me? I thought, a little disappointed.
A few weeks ago, my family also got a dog. This dog is very cute. Looking at him, I always think about what Casey is like and what he is like.
This morning, I saw that the daughter of the host family posted a picture of Casey on social media with words: “May you rest in heaven”.
After seeing it, I was shocked for nearly five minutes, and then immediately texted Ronda to ask about it, she confirmed that the dog had passed away.
Casey died in the backyard, while still doing her favorite thing — — chewing bones.
I thought of this happening a few years ago, but I never thought this would happen when I was not prepared.
Many times I have thought, maybe the gap between my fingers is too big so that I have never grasped time. However, time didn’t seem to be caught, nor was it ever cracked by anyone besides Einstein. When the sun set westward, I would take out the camera to capture a photo, but then it falls off of the top of the mountain immediately, and this day would be forever gone from my life. Time is just like this, it’s like this day by day, it takes away the people and things that are worthy of my life casually and seamlessly. The years left marks on my cheeks and body, slowly corroding my skin and spirit, turning my remaining life into pieces, and wash them away in the mudslides, I jump in desperately, but those fragments can no longer be back, and only the silt that washes everything away is left in the end.
I have never cherished the things in front of me enough. After insomnia, I discovered how extravagant deep sleep was. This is also true for Casey. I spent two years with her, but didn’t leave any photo with her, and didn’t think about how precious our time together was.
Maybe Casey is in heaven, I’m not sure. I don’t believe in Christianity or any other form of religion, but I can’t be sure that they don’t exist. If there is a heaven in the world, I hope you, Casey, can stay there and sleep peacefully.
The long days are over, the faintness is gone.
People in fear, spirits are exhausted.
Time was like sand, went like a white horse.
Clouds were getting light, sleeping by the window.
Road to heaven, never alone.
When you were alive, you seemed to be desperate for a walk outside, but unfortunately, it didn’t happen for almost the rest of your life. May you get what you expect after death. You are the first important character who left my life completely. For the first time, I wrote such a clumsy poem, just for you, to pay tribute to you. I genuinely hope your soul will never be worn away.
Link for original Chinese script: https://zhhaoying1738.medium.com/%E8%87%B4%E6%9B%BE%E9%99%AA%E6%88%91%E4%B8%A4%E5%B9%B4%E7%9A%84%E7%8B%97-c31bdba92eac
