Winter is Coming: Part 3—The Nerd Cometh

Let’s recap.  Talking dog (again) who talks in (polite) riddles and doesn’t appreciate morbid humor. 

There, I think you are caught up.  Except for me being buried in bracket analysis.  Again.

The nerd dog spoke (I can’t believe I just wrote that) “I will repeat my earlier question.  What are you doing?”

“My annual exercise in futility”

“That didn’t answer my question but I understand what you meant.  Let me rephrase.  Do you know what you are doing?”

Ok, now he’s not only a nerd, he’s just down right condescending.

Winter Is Coming—Part 2: An Introduction?

I had finally made my way back up to the table, head still throbbing from the fall.  The white fluff ball was looking at me with little or no concern.

“Allow me to introduce myself—they call me “Snowball””

I was still in shock—but I wasn’t stupid.

“I know what THEY call you because I would be a member of the THEY group”

He blinked behind the horn-rimmed glasses, unmoved by my sarcasm.

“It is proper protocol to introduce oneself if meeting someone for the first time”

Winter Is Coming

For the first time in 14 years, I was actually going to be able to do my bracket in silence.

I miss Chewy...I really do.  But the thought of being able to put my bracket together without the strange looks, taunting, and doggie judgment was trumping any "real" feelings I had.

As I sat down with the sheets, the newest addition to the family, Snowball, was curled up next to the table, laying on the heat vent.

Dogs are weird.

Luckily, this one does not talk.  Does not judge.  Does not show up in strange places thousands of miles from home.  This dog, much like all other normal dogs, does not make it all about him.

Finally, peace and quiet.

The Final Moment

He coughed.  What followed was an almost vibrating-like sound.

The noise was unsettling but I knew what it meant.

He was shivering.

I reached up and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

"Thanks," he said, "it's the least you could do after last March."

"Really?  You're dying and all you can do is brag about that again?"

Chewy managed a smile.  "You almost won the pool...your pool...because of my help."  His voice was raspy.

"I know you think you helped me.  But I would have made most of those picks anyway.  I'm always chasing the underdog.  Gonzaga..."

He interrupted.  "Hey, let me have my moment."

"Sorry"  I paused.  "Can I ask you a question?"

"I have a feeling that even if I said no, you would ask anyway."

"That's funny."  Even in his final moments, he was going down swinging.  "Seriously though, why did you always try to one-up me?  Why was it always you against me?"

What came next sounded like a wheezing chuckle--his subsequent coughing fit confirmed it.  At this point, he could barley whisper.

"Are you kidding me?  I was trying to make you better," he took a second to gather his breath, "you were never more alive than when I challenged you.  I never tried to hurt you.  I only wanted to make you stronger.  Most of all, I wanted you to have fun."

"Well, you failed because I have no pool wins to show for it."

Chewy sighed.  "You humans are all the same.  You judge your success by wins and losses.  Your whole lives are one big competition.  Life isn't about the result.  If it was, then we would all fail because we all die--and I can't think of a worse result than death."

Good point.  As I thought about that last word, I could feel myself choking up.  I could barely manage a feeble "thank you".

"For what?"

This was a lot harder than I ever imagined.

"For the good times.  For making life more bearable.  Most of all, for being my friend."

"It was a good run, wasn't it?" he whispered.

And then Chewy, breath laboring, closed his eyes and said, "You know none of this is real, right?

Tears welled up in my eyes.  "I know," I said, "but let me have my moment."

He smiled.

And I closed my eyes.  I took a deep breath.  Tears were streaming down my face because I knew that when I opened them again, I would find...

There was no one there.

The Conspiracy, Conclusion: The Anti-Climax

I couldn't stop staring at the sheet.

Stupid Gonzaga.

9th place.

Stupid tiebreak.

I had a chance to win the whole thing.  But they weren't my picks.

Stupid dog.

"How long have you been staring at the results?"

Speak of the stupid devil.