To Sing Frogs Chapter 37a

Chapter 37

 

Back the Way We Came

 

 Dasha didn’t come with us. The dog had always made every possible attempt to escape from the fenced yard. She always came back within a day or two, that was, until the last time. A month before our move to Utah she escaped and never returned. It was Sarah’s first monumental loss after arriving in Amérika.

“Mama, we noe goe. Dasha come home. We goe awaye ee Dasha noe find us.”

“I’m afraid Dasha isn’t coming back, Sarah.”

“Wy Dasha noe come?”

“She probably died, Sarah.”

Sarah began to cry while she screamed. “Dasha noe dye. Dasha come home!”

“I don’t think so, Sarah. Not this time.” There were a thousand possible explanations for a dog’s disappearance in such a rural setting. A car might have hit her. She could have been exterminated for bothering other pets or even someone’s garbage. She might have eaten a poisoned rodent. A couple of neighbors had lost pets to packs of coyotes. That seemed the most likely scenario to me.

Amy decided to use the difficult situation as a teaching opportunity. “Listen, Sarah. Dasha decided not to follow rules. She didn’t want to mind. We tried to make her stay in the yard but she didn’t want to. We didn’t make rules to stop her from having fun. We knew she could get hurt if she didn’t stay home. If Dasha had minded and listened to Daddy and me she would still be here. Daddy and I wanted Dasha to be happy. We wanted her to be part of our family. We didn’t want Dasha to get hurt. When she decided to break the rules we couldn’t help her. It’s very important to keep rules, Sarah. It’s important for people to mind mamas and daddies. Little girls can get hurt when they don’t mind too, even if mamas and daddies don’t want them to. That’s why we have rules, Sarah. It’s so Mama and Daddy can help you and protect you. Do you understand?”

“We noe goe awaye. We wait Dasha come home.” Sarah chose not to understand. To Sarah, Dasha was more than the family dog, she was her sister. Now she was gone. Surely it was a precursor of things to come.

For two weeks prior to driving away, Sarah, Celeste, and Denney wouldn’t stop crying, fighting or acting out in every imaginable way. They were distraught. People had told them this family would last forever. They automatically assumed the house went along with the deal. Now the only dwelling they had ever felt secure in was disappearing before their very eyes, right along with the family dog. Fits of hysteria came with occurrences as simple as boxing up a few toys or articles of their clothing even when favorite ones were still left available. No amount of reassurance could console them. Their world was crumbling once again.

Everyone told them everything would be all right. That’s what big people always said, especially when it was a lie. Their experiences in Russia were proof enough.

Finally the packing and loading were done. The horse trailer was hooked to the pick-up waiting for our departure in separate vehicles during the wee hours of the next morning.

“Who’s sending you flowers?” I asked Amy facetiously. If I went too long without giving my wife flowers she’d buy a bouquet to lighten up the house. I couldn’t believe it happened a day before we left, though.

“Those aren’t mine. They’re Celeste’s. Mike knew she was having a hard time with the move so today he brought her flowers.” The buddy system was working on all levels. Nowhere did it function better than with Mike and Celeste. Even though she initially rejected him he kept at it. Mike took his little sister for ice cream. He sent her cards in the mail. He even brought her flowers. Celeste eventually bonded with him every bit as much as she did with Amy and me. It had happened to such an extent that she even received a privilege afforded to no one else in my oldest son’s life. Mike hated the nickname “Mikey” as much as I hated “Johnny.” But his heart melted every time Celeste addressed him with the baby-talk pet name only she could use without encountering hostility.

Mike, Cory, Steve, and Jack spent the last night in their childhood home curled up in sleeping bags on the floors of their bedrooms. They must have been flooded by sentimental memories too numerous to count. The little ones stayed with Amy and me. Denney was already out cold when we went to bed. The girls cried themselves to sleep in our arms.

 

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