Super Dog

Summer of 1987

Larry’s mother told him they could get another dog whenever he was ready, but Larry knew he’d never want one. His mother put her arm around him. “Sweetheart,” she said. “This week up at the lake will help you feel better.”

Probably not.

All Larry could think about was Shadow, how she would sit in the
back seat with him on their way to the lake every summer, her head out the window as they drove by trees and then more trees, her ears flying back like a cape. Super Dog, he called her.

Shadow. The Super Dog.

As soon as they arrived at the lake, his mother started unpacking the bedsheets and blankets. “Why don’t you go see if you can find Jill?” she said, shooing Larry outside into the sun.

Larry headed down the hill. But as soon as he saw the sparkling water ahead, he thought about how Shadow loved to run full speed into the lake, her tail excitedly wagging back and forth.

“I heard about Shadow,” Jill said, coming up beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

Jill’s family also owned one of the cabins here. Larry had known her since he was too little to remember ever not knowing her. She was his best summer friend, probably his best friend period.

Every summer they would swim in the lake, run bases on the softball field, make their own lemonade, and catch fireflies at night. On rainy days, they played Atari video games for hours in the community room. And always, Shadow would be there with them.

They stood together where the grass turned into the sandy beach. Jill didn’t try to cheer him up or distract him. She didn’t say what most people did: that Shadow had lived a long life, that 15 years was good for a big dog.

Instead, she stood beside him and let him feel what he needed to feel.

Summer of 2021

Aiden almost felt weird being alone with his dad. It had been his mom’s idea that they go to the fair. Just the two of them. Quality time, she called it.

So Aiden and his dad ate cotton candy and went to the Fun House—except it wasn’t much fun. His dad talked about his job, but to Aiden,
it was confusing and kind of boring. Aiden tried to tell his dad about his favorite video game, but his dad couldn’t understand the rules.

Then his dad’s cell started buzzing.

“I’m sorry, Aiden.” His dad looked down at his phone. “But I really have to take this one.”

Aiden shrugged. He was used to it. His mom worked too, but it wasn’t the same. His dad was always working.

“I promise this won’t take more than five minutes,” his dad said. “Why don’t you go ride the giant slide? I’ll meet you over there when I’m done.”  

Really? The giant slide? He was 11, not 6!

But what choice did he have? About halfway to the slide, Aiden noticed a booth set up with cages. Cages on top of cages, all filled with cats purring loudly and dogs yipping and barking.

 The overhead banner read: Today Only—Free Adoption! The crowd of people all wanted to pet the adorable soft kittens and playful puppies.

But Aiden noticed an older dog that no one was paying any attention to, sitting in a cage by himself, not making a single sound, and staring right at Aiden. Aiden knelt down, hooked his fingers into the cage,
and looked back into the dog’s sad brown eyes. Aiden was sure the old dog was saying: Please, take me home.

The sign taped to the cage said “BUNKER.”

Aiden ran back to the playground area just as his dad was finishing up his call, and he begged him to come take a look.

“He’s the cutest dog,” Aiden pleaded. “And he needs us. I just know it.”

“I’m sorry, Aiden.” His dad was already heading toward the parking lot. “We can’t take on the responsibility of a pet right now. A dog is . . . well—”  But Aiden’s dad didn’t finish his sentence. “Besides, it’s not a good time,” he said. “We have a long drive tomorrow, remember?”

Summer of 1987

Larry and Jill sat on the highest hill overlooking the entire camp. There was the circle of cabins below, a lake as still as a mirror, and a grove of ancient tall pines.

“This is where we need to do it,” Jill said. “Shadow loved it up here.”

Larry held tight to the collar. Dangling from the end was a metal tag stamped with Shadow’s name.

“This is the right place,” Larry agreed.

Passing the gardening trowel back and forth, taking turns digging, Larry and Jill talked about all the things about Shadow that they loved.

“Remember when she took that lobster right off our picnic table?”

“The cutest was when she would roll around in the grass on her back flopping back and forth, remember?”

“And I loved that doggy smell. Even when she was all wet and stinky.”

“Me too,” Jill said.

When the hole was deep enough, they tucked Shadow’s collar in a plastic bag and buried it. By now the sun was starting to lower in the sky and flames of orange danced on the surface of the lake. Larry covered the hole with dirt, and they said goodbye to Shadow.

Summer of 2021

Aiden rested his head against the car window the whole drive up to the lake, barely saying a word. His parents were talking about selling the family cabin. No one had used it in years, and Aiden had never even seen it.  That’s why they were going there now, to clean it up.

“I heard you two had fun at the fair yesterday,” his mom said cheerfully, keeping her hands on the wheel and her eyes straight ahead.

“We sure did, Aiden, didn’t we?” his dad chimed in from the front passenger seat, but he didn’t turn around to see Aiden’s face.

Aiden watched the trees go by, then more trees, then nothing but trees, and all he could think about was Bunker. No one seemed to notice that Aiden hadn’t answered.

When they got to the cabin, his dad suggested that Aiden take a little walk around. “If I remember, it’s really beautiful here,” he said.

“That’s a good idea,” his mom added. “It’s going to be a while before we finish up. So here—” She handed Aiden an energy bar. “But remember to bring back that wrapper,” she said firmly. “No littering.”

“Thanks.” Aiden headed off.

Actually, nothing looked very beautiful here. It looked old. There were seats missing from the swings on the playground. The bases on the softball field were worn and flat as pancakes. Aiden found an open building with a TV and a practically antique video game console that looked promising, but there was no electricity.

He walked back outside. Aiden wasn’t sure if he was mad or just feeling sorry for himself.

What was wrong with Dad?

Aiden took big bites of his energy bar, and it was all gone before he even made it to the top of the hill. He crumpled up the wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket.

How could anyone not want a dog?

Aiden hung his head and kicked at the dirt with his sneaker, and that’s when he saw that someone had dropped a plastic bag on the grass.

Sure, no littering.

Knowing his mom would be proud, Aiden reached down to pick it up, but most of the plastic was stuck, buried in the dirt. It didn’t yank out easily, so Aiden started digging with his fingers, digging and pulling. When the bag finally popped out, Aiden nearly fell backward. When he looked at what was inside, he nearly fell again. He couldn’t believe it.

This has to be a sign from the universe.

Dad! Mom! Look what I found up on the hill!” Aiden came running back into the cabin.

“Whoa,” his dad said. “Slow down. What have you got there?”

Aiden tried to calm his breath, but he was so excited. He hoped that when his dad saw what Aiden had found, he’d think the same exact thing: Coincidences like this don’t happen for no reason.

Aiden’s dad took the bag and seemed to recognize it immediately. He stepped back and slowly lowered himself into a chair.

“Larry, is that what I think it is?” Aiden’s mom stepped up behind him. “After all these years?”

“I think it is, Jill,” Aiden’s dad said. “It must be.”

When he brushed the dirt from the dog collar, the metal tag jangled.

“Shadow,” Aiden’s dad said softly.

There was a faraway look on his face that Aiden had never seen before. It was almost as if Aiden could imagine his dad as a kid. When it was summer and the smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the air, the taste of homemade lemonade was bitter but sweet, and sand warmed all day in the sun, until the glow of fireflies floated up into the night.

Aiden’s dad didn’t look sad, but it was clear he was remembering something he had once loved very much.

At first, Aiden didn’t understand what was going on. Then he did.

“Dad?” Aiden asked, putting his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “You had
a dog?”

“Not just any dog,” Aiden’s dad said. “A super dog.”

As the sun set behind the hill that night, Aiden sat on the rickety steps of the cabin.   

He couldn’t believe the stories his mom and dad were telling him about Shadow: how her ears flopped in the air like a cape when they rode in
the car, how she’d chase them around the softball field as they ran
the bases, how she sat patiently while they played video games on rainy days.

Aiden listened, as if seeing and hearing his dad in a new way for the very first time. It seemed they were more alike than he had ever realized.

His dad’s cell phone rang, and Aiden sighed, anticipating what would happen next.

But his dad silenced the phone and put his arm around his son.

“So tell me,” his dad said. “Do you think Bunker likes to swim?”