In the park this morning I met a Beagle named Mike, who triggered a memory.
I couldn’t have been more than 10 when it happened, so my clarity impresses even me.
There was a family on our block, The Greenfields, who had a son named Ethan.
Ethan was barely 3 when diagnosed with leukemia. Despite his illness he was a happy boy whose dad would take him walking, circling the block, often carrying him when he grew tired.
For Ethan’s 4th birthday he was given a Beagle puppy he named Amit, meaning friend, in Hebrew.
The Greenfields were strict Orthodox Jews, Mr. Greenfield always wearing a Yarmulka, never driving on Saturday observing Shabbat, their holy day.
Amit would stroll with the family as though he knew he was Jewish too. But the other thing Amit knew was he belonged to Ethan, never leaving his side.
Ethan died a month before his 6th birthday. A stoic, sweet soul with his little shaved head and big smile, never knowing how sick he was since kids, alas, live in the moment…
as do Beagles.
The next thing we hear, a heartbroken Amit won’t eat, parked next to Ethan’s bed as if waiting for him to walk through the door.
I remember going there with my grandfather trying to get him to eat.
“Poor fella doesn’t want to live,” Mr. Greenfield had said, “he wants to be with Ethan.”
Now Mrs. Greenfield up till then was brave as can be never showing her grief, but the thought of losing Amit too was just too much for her, so she sat on their front porch and for the first time let herself cry. But this was no ordinary weep mind you, this was a mother who watched her child suffer, then taken away forever.
Suddenly who appears on the porch but Amit, who heard her, jumping in her lap whimpering.
Mewling, as it was described by Mr. Greenfield. It dawned on me that was the first time ever hearing the word.
He realized he was still needed, so after a time they both dried their tears, and Amit, the Beagle, Ethan’s best friend, began to eat again. 
Funny what pops a file.
SB
What a tragic and tender story. We could learn so much from dogs.
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It was so long ago, but I remember Amit, and that sweet little boy…sigh.
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That was a very tender story. People and dogs suffer so much!
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Man’s Best Friend…WOOF!
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You told this story so poignantly I needed two tissues. I can certainly see why it left such an impression on you. Beautifully told.
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I realized, Beagles make me think of small Carmelas, who I still miss. I forget who said our thoughts and memories are linked, but they seem to be. Didn’t mean to make you cry.
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Skinny, I’ve been meaning to say this…how flattered I am you, as a teacher, read me as often as you do. You and David from Iowa, also one. Lifts me up. 🙂
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Dear Susannah,
My soul needed this reminder of the depth of loss can be filled by several things, but what struck me is how if we allow ourselves to grieve life always sends us something(a memory) or someone to help us to wade through the waters of sadness and in that allowing we can continue. Thank you for this post…in more ways than I can express you lift me up.
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I remember how you felt losing Cookie, who you rescued.
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PS. Amit just felt the loss from the other end. Sigh
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A poignant tale indeed. Thanks Susannah.
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Hope you’re feeling better. I know what a dog person you are.
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That’s so sad and so sweet, Susannah. Animals (and especially dogs) can be so empathetic.
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They give loyalty a whole other spin.
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You had me at a Beagle named Mike.
Beautiful story. Dogs really are incredible creatures.
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You had a Beagle…Chester Pop, a legend with a tail…:)
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Think about him every day, especial when I see a scrap of food untouched. I loved my little lump of love ❤
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I still have his picture. His 8 by 10. He coulda been bigger than Lassie.
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