The Gypsy.

     Dr. Holden may have been an alright surgeon but his bed-side manner was pathetic. He seriously lacked empathy. Mom on the other hand, now she was an amazing person. She never gave up on anyone and we sure as hell were not gonna give up on her.
     Mom lost both her folks early on. It was a miracle she hadn’t also been in that car on that day at that time. She nearly died on a couple other occasions too. She nursed Grandpa Peter right up ‘til the end, worked for years in a half-way house in Chinatown. Our dog died in her arms. Mom was an amazing person. I won’t bore you with all sorts of stories, but just this one, about Gypsy.
     We never had much money but there was a lotta love in the house. It was a puny little house on Government street that mom and dad painted bright blue with cream-coloured ornate trim. There was a wobbly black wrought-iron fence that wouldn’t keep anything out. Still the place was heaven for me and Claire. There were bumpy inter-locking bricks along the driveway that had loads of weeds pushing through and a back-yard big enough to keep us kids busy. We didn’t want for nothing, until we found that puppy in the bushes.
     Holden insisted the operation had gone perfectly well. He had no better explanation for what followed than to say rather dismissively that it happens sometimes though rarely. We couldn’t understand. She had so much to live for, us kids, so many people loving her. She wasn’t old. We could not understand.
     After Shilo died Mom refused to get another dog. We pretty much gave up on that, until the day we heard whimpering in those bushes. Claire and I decided that what we’d do is carefully put the puppy in mom’s bed. Dad was gone planting, it was early Sunday morning and she was still asleep. She’d wake up, see the cute little puppy and instantly fall in love with it. The fact was the puppy wasn’t cute. It was downright ugly: skeletal, covered in flees, large patches of hair missing, one eye closed. It was clearly in rough shape, horrible actually, but we didn’t really see it that way.
     Holden kept saying the operation wasn’t the issue. Mom just refused to wake up. After further tests Holden said she’d slipped into an irreversible coma and further care was pretty much useless. We thought dad was gonna hit the guy that first time he suggested what he suggested. Dad took Holden’s arm and walked him outta the room like he’d been a very bad boy.
     We heard a sudden yelp from mom’s room, only not the ‘oh look at the cute little puppy’ kinda yelp. It was more like the ‘WHAT THE FUGG!?’ sorta thing. Apparently she woke up in a puddle of piddle with the cadaverous canine creature licking her face. Within an hour that little character was getting a flee-bath and we kids were confined to quarters. Later on the vet told us matter-of-factly it’d probably survive with a lotta care only she wouldn’t get it at the RSPCA. In fact they’d almost certainly put ‘er down. So of course mom kept her.
     Holden would come every morning, look at mom’s chart to see there hadn’t been any change. At first he simply suggested we talk about it. Later on he was more direct. Eventually he said the hospital would have to ‘judge the situation.’ They needed the bed. They would disconnect mom from the machinery keeping her alive because they needed the bed.
     Gypsy did alright over time. She gained weight, grew some hair, had one usable eye and looked pretty good. Ok, never looked good but she was happy healthy and followed Claire and me around all the time. Gypsy didn’t ever go out unless we did. She obviously suffered some intense separation anxiety. She had to be with us all the time and when we were at school she’d basically just mope around our room. She didn’t have much to do with mom or dad. But that changed when mom got sick.
     The morning Holden brought a psychologist to talk to us had already been rough. Dad kept talking to mom, pleading with her. He knew we were running outta time and then they walked in. Dad didn’t get uptight threatening or anything. He listened mostly only in the end he suggested or I guess demanded a couple more weeks. Unfortunately Holden was adamant.
     Gypsy started hanging out with mom whether we were home or not. None of us could figure what changed. She compulsively kept sniffing mom’s right side, especially her breast, which was weird. At first it was kind of funny. But she wouldn’t leave mom alone for a few days, sniffing, whimpering. Eventually dad got angry and was just about to pick Gypsy up and fling her out unceremoniously when mom stopped him. I’ll never forget the moment. It was the beginning of everything: “Adam wait. I think I know what’s going on.”
     The morning mom was scheduled to be taken off life-support dad was a mess. We all were. Grandpa Lucien and Flora came down, a few others. It was really strange. Mom’s friend Ruth broke down, couldn’t come to the hospital. But we had to go. Gramps didn’t want Adam bringing the dog only we weren’t leavin her home. We were all going. No other way about that.
     As soon as we walked in Holden tried to shake dad’s hand. Dad wasn’t angry but he just couldn’t. There was a nurse, the same psychologist and a chaplin. We stood around and someone pushed a chair forward for grandpa and one for Flora. Dad sat on the bed. That’s when Gypsy jumped up right on top of mom and began barking. And just as simply and normally as could be, just like any day of the week mom slowly opened her eyes, smiled up at the dog and told her to pipe down.
     The nurse dropped a metal tray that sent several small cups of water all over the floor. The loud clanging of the tray blended with a hollering and a crying while all sorts of people ran in and as Dr. Holden slithered out shaking his head. He walked down the hall shaking his head. He needed air, had his hands on his head muttering to himself as he wandered out the front door onto the street. He really shoulda kept his head up. He might’ve seen the truck.