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Candle for Beezer by Judy Campbell |
 Beezer
was old. And now he was really sick. Beezer was the dog that had come
to live with Raychel and her parents five years ago when Gram died. But
it seemed as if Beezer had been with them forever. He was a friendly old
dog, quick to wag his tail and happy for a small pat on the head, but
he wasn't himself any longer. He mostly just lay in his bed in the kitchen.
And the last day or so, he didn't even eat or drink. Beezer was dying
and Raychel didn't want to think about it. She loved Beezer. She remembered
how awful she felt when her grandmother had died. But Beezer was only
getting quieter and weaker.Raychel's mother and father had talked about taking Beezer to the veterinarian to help him die, but Raychel had begged them not to. And since he was not in pain, they decided to keep him at home. But Raychel didn't want to see him die either. That morning she sat by his dog bed and patted his head and talked to him about her grandmother and the cat and the things he used to like to do. And once in a while, old Beezer would open one eye and look at her, and his tail would sort of flop. He was too weak for a real wag but he could still manage a look and a little flop. "It's time to go to school now Honey," said her mother. "But Mom," said Raychel, "I can't just leave him. He might die." "You're right" said her mother softly, "He could die at any time. He's so old his body just won't carry him around any more. It is good that Beezer can die right here in his own bed. I promise I'll stay with him until you come home." It was a long day for Raychel. Instead of doing her school work, she drew pictures of Beezer. Finally she got on the big, noisy bus and it brought her to the end of her driveway. One look at her mother told her that the end had come for Beezer. "Mom?" "I'm sorry honey, but he died about lunchtime," her mom answered. "He heaved a great big Beezer sigh, and then his body relaxed all over. It was very gentle and peaceful. He just stopped being alive." "Is he still here?" asked Raychel. "Yes. I thought you might want to see him one last time. Daddy is in the kitchen with him. Only it's not really Beezer any more." Raychel didn't want to go into the kitchen. She didn't want to see her best friend dead. But she wanted one last look. And she was curious. Would he look different? Would he feel different? She slowly pushed open the kitchen door, and there, in his bed by the stove, just like she left him that morning was Beezer. But her mother was right, it really wasn't Beezer any more. He lay so still. "Can I touch him?" asked Raychel very quietly. "Of course you can," said her father, "only he won't feel it. That part of him is gone. All we have is the part he left, his big shaggy body, and all of the great Beezer stories to remember him by." "And pictures," sighed Raychel. And with that, she began to cry. "Yes, honey," said her mother softly, putting her arm around Rachel and giving her a warm cup of tea, "And lots of pictures. I think we must have a million of them. We'll get them out in a few minutes. But we are going to have to bury Beezer very soon." "Couldn't we just keep him for a while longer?" asked Raychel. "Well, maybe just a short while. Dead things start to smell if we keep them around too long. Remember the smell of the dead rabbit that Beezer rolled in ?" "UGH!" said Raychel, holding her nose, Would Beezer smell like that?" "He would and he's big, so he would smell really bad!" explained her dad. "I have already dug the hole, so we can just wrap him in his bed blanket and take him out." "OK," said Raychel sadly. "If you say so." "Why don't you go and get some small stones to put on his grave? We can write his name over where he is buried." "Can we bury one of his dog biscuits with him?" said Raychel. "If it makes you feel better, Raychel, we'll bury Beezer with the whole box," agreed her dad kindly.  So
Rachel set off to find some smooth stones, and her mother and father carefully
wrapped Beezer in his blanket with his box of dog biscuits. They carried
him out into the sunny garden and gently lowered him into the hole they
had dug. Raychel returned with a pocket full of stones and the three of
them pushed the dirt into the hole as they wiped away their tears. When
they had finished, Raychel wrote out Beezer's name in the stones. Then
they went into the house and lit a small "Beezer candle," which they put
on the kitchen table.The dog bed was empty. "I'll put his bed out in the garage," suggested her father. "And I'll go find some pictures," added her mother. "Wait," said Raychel, "Let's just sit and remember him." And they did because that's all they really needed to do. Remembering was how they kept good old Beezer with them from that day on. |
