Live it Again by Geoff North Page A

paw.
Hugh laughed and buried his face in the matted fur. He smelled of hay and
dandelions. He kissed his long snout and traced his fingers along the multiple
grey scars above his black nose. “Remember the raccoon that gave you these?” Hugh
was crying again. “Or maybe it was that porcupine you tangled with down in the
old grain bin.” Colonel looked at him with contented disinterest, his pink
tongue hung out one side like a slice of ham.
    “I came back boy,” he whispered. “I can
tell you everything and it won’t affect a thing. I came back from the
future…well it’s sort of the future…I got a second chance.” Hugh sat back and
crossed his legs. Colonel sat patiently in front of him, his wet raisin eyes
full of warm, summer adventure and life.
    “I can stop you from dying next spring.”
    Hugh recalled the fateful spring morning
when they heard the dog’s mournful wails from half a mile away. He’d been
missing for almost a week and his family had already given up on the idea of
him miraculously returning. Old Colonel was famous for getting in trouble, he’d
scrapped with raccoons and porcupines, been sprayed by skunks, and chased the
occasional fox, but he rarely failed to return home after his supper dish was
put outside every evening. They followed the sad sounds of his weakening yelps
to a marshy runoff between fields. He was stuck in three feet of cold water and
mud with only his shivering head showing above. Hugh’s dad had tried wading in
to rescue him, but the dog was so anchored in it required a chain attached to
the back end of a half-ton truck to pull him out.
    They took Colonel home and placed him in
the work shed with a wool blanket wrapped around his body. Hugh’s mom said he
needed rest and would be fine, but she hadn’t been able to look him in the eye
when she’d spoken. Colonel was in the same spot when he returned home from
school. He hadn’t moved an inch. The dish of treats Hugh had left in the
morning sat next to him untouched.
    “He’s not in any pain,” his father had
tried reassuring him.
    “But he’s still cold,” Hugh said, gently
stroking the dog’s head. “Can’t we give him another blanket?”
    “Wouldn’t do any good at this point. A
dozen more blankets wouldn’t make a difference. He needs rest more than
anything.” He’d taken his son’s hand and started to lead him out of the shed. He’d
resisted and looked back at Colonel one last time. Hugh knew in that moment it
would take more than rest. He saw tired suffering in those unblinking, wet
eyes. The long snout turned toward him, and Hugh saw something else there too. The
dog was grateful to be alive; he loved the entire Nance family for saving him
and caring for him. He would give it his all to make it through the night for
them. Thank you his kind, old face said. Thank you.
    The next morning Hugh had come downstairs
and asked his mother how Colonel was. She shook her head. “I’m sorry
sweetheart.”
    It was the longest walk of his life across
the front yard to the work shed. He’d paused at the door, hesitant to go any
further. He didn’t want to see, didn’t want it to be fact. He remembered
thinking that once he stepped through, the innocence and safety of childhood
would evaporate in an instant.
    He went through the door anyway, and he had
been right.
    Colonel was still there, as he’d been the
entire day and evening before, but he was no longer panting. It was so still
and quiet in there that morning. Hugh looked at the lifeless, glassy brown
eyes.
    “No,” was all he’d said. No goodbyes, no I
love you, just no. He shut the shed door and went back to the house.
    His parents said it would be alright if he
stayed home from school that day, but Hugh had insisted on going. He couldn’t
bear to stay on the farm all day knowing his old friend had gone so far away and
was still so close by.
    He went to school and buried his nose into
the work assignments for a change. He listened to his grade