It was getting dark. Caroline reached over and pulled on the floor lamp a few feet away from her, forcing it closer to her. Once the light was directly over her head, she shifted her gaze down to her book once again. She curled up deeper into her cocoon of plush blankets, and then only her eyes and forehead were visible.
Thunder roared outside her window, sending chills down her spine. She adored storms—as long as she was indoors, though. Lightning sparked beyond the trees, and she took a silent moment to gaze outside. The floor lamp didn’t allow her to see very much, but she could at least see the falling droplets on her windowpane, as well as the dark outline of the trees scratching at her window.
Her fluffy black and white cat hopped up onto the window seat and was quick to cuddle up around her feet. She smiled softly at the sweet feline who has been her companion for years. She couldn’t imagine anything happening to her or Otis.
Oh, no… Otis.
Caroline immediately shrugged off the blankets and threw her book onto the window seat cushion. Her breath became staggered as she forced her bedroom door open and sprinted as quickly as she could down the hallway to the living room. “Mom!” she shrieked. “Did you let Otis in?”
She glanced up at me calmly from her chair by the TV. She was watching a kids’ show with my little sister. “I thought you did,” she said, a hint of concern in her tone.
Caroline groaned in frustration as she slipped on her rain boots and coat by the back door. Her hands began to tremble violently as she opened the back door and slipped out into the storm without another word to her mother.
As she tromped down the hill into the depths of her forest-like backyard, she tucked her dark red hair into her hood and pulled it tightly around her face. Every ounce of her mind was focused on praying to God that Otis would be okay… that he didn’t run off again.
Every time there was a storm, her fluffy Collie dog would become frightened and run off into the woods looking for shelter. This only happened one other time when Caroline forgot to let her dog inside from playing outside. He ran into the neighbors’ yard next door and hid under their porch until morning. Caroline felt terrible about it for weeks. This couldn’t happen again…
But it was, and Caroline was already letting gallons of guilt pour over her from head to toe. Otis didn’t deserve to be left out in this weather. He didn’t deserve to be cold and scared and in harm’s way. He didn’t deserve this. He was a good dog, sweet and friendly and always at Caroline’s side. He comforted her when he sensed she was having a bad day. He would nuzzle his long fuzzy snout into her lap and start licking her leg, even if she happened to be wearing jeans that day. He didn’t care. He loved her.
Please be okay, Otis… Please, Caroline thought, her mind spinning.
She pushed her way into the woods after checking her neighbors’ yard. Thunder echoed around her, and then lightning was quick to strike, followed by a loud crack yards deeper into the forest.
“Otis?” Caroline cried out.
The crack continued, and she quickly noticed a falling tree through the foliage before her. Oh, gosh.
“OTIS!” she screamed this time.
She rushed closer to the tree as it slammed into the ground fairly close to her. She jumped in fear and then pushed her way around the tree, searching desperately once more, praying that he wasn’t involved with the fallen tree.
But then she saw him.
His soaking wet orange and brown fur tangled up in the burnt branches of the tree. He lay pinned under the load, his eyes clear and empty. Empty.
“No,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “No, no, no, no, no…”
She knelt down in the mud beside her limp dog. Blood clotted in her thick fur around her ribcage, where the tree branches had pierced him. She knew he wasn’t alive. She knew. There was no doubt that a dog with a glossy stare couldn’t be gone forever.
“Otis,” she said, gently touching his paws that fit perfectly in the palms of her hands. “Otis, come on.”
She knew he wouldn’t, but she didn’t want it to be true. Every cliché film she’d ever seen always said denial was one of the phases of grief.
He’s not dead, she thought to herself, He’s just sleeping.
That’s a lie her parents would tell her when she saw roadkill on the streets. They would glance over their shoulders at her, weakly smile, and say, “Oh, they’re just sleeping, Caroline. Don’t worry.”
Caroline believed them until she was nine years old.
The tears began when she gripped her dog’s paw tightly in her hand and he didn’t move at all. She doubled over, one hand supporting her in the mud. She sobbed so loudly, but the pelting rain drowned her out, and that made her cry harder. Frustration and sorrow and, above anything, guilt.
She was guilty that she forgot her only dog out in the rain. She was guilty that she was the reason he died painfully. She was guilty that her little sister would never see her favorite animal in the whole wide world ever again.
So Caroline kneeled in the mud for what seemed like forever, wishing it had been her who had been caught under the tree instead of Otis. She cried for him and couldn’t stop because she knew she would never feel the same again. She hugged his lifeless body, smelling his wet-dog smell, and pretending in her mind that he was still alive with her. But it would never be the same again. Most of her knew that.
But all of her knew that this was all her fault.