Best Friend

The memory is so clear to me even after all these years. I'm but a wee little child, maybe 8 or 9 years old, we're driving back home from a farm in Nebraska. My mom and dad occupying the front seats of the orange Datson, I'm in the back and crawling around in my lap is my new best friend; a black Labrador puppy.

It took me a while to name her. All my little brain could muster was "Max". I was not the most clever child.

I have few memories of the time right after she came into my life so I'll pick up the story after I moved in with my grandparents. At that time Max was in her adolescence, still the vigor of a puppy but in a bigger dog. Once everyone in the family met her she became their favorite dog. She was the nicest little mutt imaginable. Never had a barking problem, never bit anybody, was always excited to meet strangers. It was this time that I had to kennel train her so she didn't go destroying things in the middle of the night. She was so smart, all I had to say was "Get in your box" and she would perk up, trot off to my room, lay down in her kennel and wait for me to close the door behind her. I never did like locking her in what is essentially a cage but it was the rule of the house and it was only at night time.

When she matured and no longer was a threat to the shoes and whatnot of the house, we got rid of that damned box. I was never so happy to throw something away.

Over the years Max became the family's favorite member. Whenever a scrap of food was dropped, there was Max with her sixth food sense. Whenever we would return home, there was Max at the top of the landing eagerly waiting to welcome us back with a lick and a gentle nuzzle. She was there every afternoon when I got home from school, eager to run around and play. Everyone who came to visit got some Max time as she would relish their attention to her.  She always seemed a puppy at heart.

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When the time came for me to move away from my grandparents house in Iowa to South Dakota I was heart broken. Where we were moving to would not accept dogs. It was only a 30 minute drive away but it might as well have been the other side of the earth. She stayed with my grandparents and I made it a point to be over on the weekends.

She never held it against me. When I showed up she was just as excited to see me as ever but once she got the pattern down it became harder to say goodbye on Sunday night when I had to leave. I often felt her staring at me through the windows of the front door as I left. I could almost hear her small whimpers.

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Time pushed on as it does, Max grew older and was diagnosed with what was essentially doggy ovarian cancer. She was in pain. My family is not monetarily wealthy, she had to be put to sleep. I was not around. When I got the news I cried for days. I had betrayed my best friend. I had left her to die alone and afraid on the metal table of some vet's office. I wasn't there to hold her paw or say a last goodbye. I received a box of her ashes the next time I went to visit, I couldn't control myself. I ran off and cried in the backyard. I couldn't face them. I couldn't face myself. 

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I still have her ashes with me to this day. 

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The last time I went to visit my grandparents, my grandpa and I were returning home from something, I don't remember what. As we climbed the stairs I could almost see and feel Max at the top of the landing, welcoming us home again. I told my grandpa this and he agreed that he felt it too. We came to the conclusion that it was her spirit saying hello. 

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I'll be going back home to Iowa in a few short weeks. I'm looking at her ash box as I write this. In front is a photo of the two of us on my grandma's patio. Part of me is thinking that I should bring her with me and scatter her dust in the wind, let her spirit be free. A selfish part of me wants to hold on to her and never let go. I have my memories and my photos but it doesn't seem to be enough. I'll never have my best friend back. 

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It's my firm belief that all children should grow up with a family dog. We think we train our animals but they can teach us so much more if you lend them an ear and listen. Max taught me the value of friendship, loyalty and how to just roll around in the grass and have fun. And when the time comes for them to pass on, we learn a valuable lesson in our own mortality. No one will be around forever.

An Introduction.

Welcome to Behind the Wall, I am Highwall.

So you may be asking yourself, "What is Behind the Wall?", "What reason do I have for coming here?", "Who does this asshole think he is?!".

Behind the Wall is a spot for me to write at you. Not to you or for you, but at you. Basically this is a dumping ground for my thoughts. Whatever they may be. If I find them relevant or time consuming enough, you'll find them up here. This is also where I'll be dropping pieces of stories that I might be trying to write. I don't consider myself a writer by any means, I just get these funny scenarios in my head and I'd like to try to convey them at you. I should probably take a creative writing class or something but frankly I'm not looking to pursue any type of literary excellence.

What reason do you have for coming here? Hell, I don't know but while you're here I might as well put you to work. Whenever you find yourself reading some shit stain I've posted and get a "wtf" thought, I want you to add it to the comments. I promise to answer it. If you're reading some story snippet and have suggestions or corrections, post them. I really do appreciate feedback whenever I can get it. Please, don't be shy.

Who does this asshole think he is?! Well, I go by many names. My favorite is Highwall but you can call me Jordan. I'm just a guy with thoughts. I don't consider myself special, I just want to share what's going on in my brains. Buckle up.