Chase: The Wind Beneath His Feet

I was a German Shepherd, and sure, I was proud, devoted, and energetic. My name was Chase. I'm in what they call heaven right now. The grass always smells fresh, and the place is peaceful. Rivers sparkle like silver threads, birds soar fearlessly, and occasionally, I get the scent of my dad, Priths, on a breeze that caresses my fur.

However, this is not a tale of death.

No. Life is the subject of this tale of my life.

In a snug little kennel tucked up in the hills, I was born. Despite being somewhat smaller than the others, I was the runt—obstinate and inquisitive. Wide open areas beckoned to me, so I constantly gazed towards the gates while the others fought over food and space. My person was waiting for me.

And he arrived one day.

I wasn't picked because I was the loudest or strongest. I leapt into his lap and buried my head in his chest as if I had known him for ages, which is why he picked me.

Priths. My father. My person.

He had the world's scent—coffee, literature, and a very compassionate scent. Through his touch, I sensed it. I walked out of the world I was born into and into the life that was destined for me that day when he pulled me into his arms.

From the beginning, we worked as a team.

I was a pup, eager and awkward. Even when I chewed through his shoes or pursued the mop like it was an invader, he remained calm and patient and continued to chuckle. Together, we grew. He picked up my crazy beat, and I picked up his world's laws.

Our home was a warm place to live. The type of warmth that emanates from the way someone calls your name or keeps a blanket on the sofa specifically for you, rather than the warmth that comes from a heater. There was already my brother Simba, serene, noble, and wiser than I would ever be. My enthusiasm didn't bother him. When the evenings grew too long, he allowed me to cuddle up next to him and nip his ears.

My anchor was Simba. My sun was Priths.

We took several trips. By automobile, rail, or occasionally even lengthy walks that became excursions. I cherished the excitement of motion—the engine's buzz, the shifting aromas, the shifting sky. With my head out the window and my ears perking up, I would be able to hear dogs and trees whispering across cities.

Together, we saw snow, white and enchanted, as if the clouds had chosen to join me in their play. I recall Priths laughing till his cheeks flushed from the cold as I rolled and leapt.

In Greece, we saw the sea. It was wild, blue, and unending. I slept beneath the stars, my head on his foot, feeling his heartbeat through the ground, as I chased the tide and growled at the waves.

In Greece, we saw the sea. It was wild, blue, and unending. I slept beneath the stars, my head on his foot, feeling his heartbeat through the ground, as I chased the tide and growled at the waves.

In Germany, we strolled through verdant forests where the above canopy caused the shadows to dance. There, he taught me to be quiet, not in a frightening way, but in a calm way. On other occasions, we would simply sit by a river and observe the water flowing, as if time were passing slowly.

But for dogs, time is a peculiar thing.

It stretches and stretches for you humans. You have decades. We all have our moments. However, I made sure to savour each moment.

The murmurs followed. The pain. At first, I didn't get it. I assumed I was simply exhausted. However, Priths was aware. He was constantly aware. He kept a tight check on me, noting how I stopped running for the ball, how I would sometimes pause before jumping, and how my eyes would occasionally seek his, asking things I couldn't express.

Physicians arrived. soft voices. Strong odours. machines. Priths embraced me, kissed my head, and said that he loved me more than anything, so even though I detested the needles, I allowed them to do it.

I was diagnosed with cancer. Something aggressive and quick. Something that even Dad was powerless to stop.

However, he made an effort.

He brought in all the medicines, healers, and even strange-smelling items that he thought might be useful. This time, we journeyed to optimism rather than beaches. He said a prayer. His angry eyes, his restless evenings, and the way he spoke gently to Simba when he thought I wasn't paying attention were all visible to me.

He attempted to negotiate with the stars.

I was reluctant to go. I still had plenty of hikes, rivers to swim in, and woods to chase squirrels in. I desired more snuggles, more carefree days spent snuggled up on the couch with his fingers stroking my fur.

But I was losing my physique. And he knew, just as I did.

That final day... I recall every detail.

Outside, it was lightly raining. Simba lay next to my bed, silent. And Priths held me like he always had, as if I were still a puppy that he could hold. His heartbeat was shaking beneath me, and I could feel his tears on my fur.

My final vow was to kiss his hand.

I fell asleep after that.

However, it wasn't the end.

I'm at a place where suffering doesn't exist anymore. I run once more. I feel youthful; I jump over clouds; I follow the wind. Here, I also see other dogs—dogs that, like their people, carried love in their scents that they would never forget.

However, I do miss him.

I miss how he knelt as I ran and how he yelled my name. Even though he claimed he wouldn't, I miss the way he shared his meal with me. I long for the peaceful times when we were alone and the world could wait.

I still have a bit of his heart, which is why I miss it.

I am also aware of his pain. Sometimes, when Simba sleeps next to him and sighs, or when I dream, I see him. His eager gaze is fixed on the door. Or how, as if I were out on a stroll, he still keeps my toys in that spot.

I want him to understand that it's alright.

He did everything. Everything.

And becoming his kid made me the luckiest dog ever.

He is accompanied by Simba, who is still on guard. I have faith in Simba. He's going to keep Dad warm. In the parks we cherished, he will stroll next to him. When he sobs, he will prod him. And occasionally, perhaps, he will also glance at the door and sense me.

Since I'm present.

In every wind that blows over his face.

On the couch, in each sliver of sunlight.

Everywhere we went, we made our way.

And after Dad has finished his voyage, when his feet are weary and his heart is full of tales, long in the future... He will locate me once more.

I'll rush to him as the puppy that sprang into his lap and wouldn't let go, not as an elderly dog or a memory.

And we'll go for another walk.

Together.

Forever.

Until then…

I’m chasing butterflies in fields that never end.

I’m lying in the sun, dreaming of cuddles.

I’m waiting, tail wagging, ears up—

For my dad.

For Priths.

My home.