And So We Grow

“Thomas Pinkerton, do you think people are relegated to one great idea in their lifetime?” a confidently confused eleven year old voice asked. The golden red, fur covered head of Thomas Pinkerton lifted from his massive front paws cocking slightly to the left as if he just got a whiff of red meat on the grill. Thomas Pinkerton was no stranger to these almost precocious existential questions. Mickey O’Malley routinely sat under the same peach tree, wearing nearly the same outfit: white undershirt, black soccer shorts, and bare feet, in the very same position, on the same patch of dirtied grass. With his knees bent, Mickey leaned half his weight on the rough tree trunk releasing the other half through each of his elbows equally onto his knees. He stared downward at the part dirt part grass patch just beneath him where he habitually and involuntarily pulled the grass from its resting place one blade at a time. Mickey’s freckled face was shadowed by both the tree’s heavy foliage and his own bouncing red-brown curls. His face was shedding baby fat by the week, but for now he was half between boyhood and adolescence.

Mickey looked over to Thomas Pinkerton and said, “Well, what do you think!” Thomas Pinkerton answered the same way he answered all of Mickey’s questions, with an inquisitive look of pure puzzlement and pure knowledge within those deep brown eyes. Thomas Pinkerton had been around for two years before Mickey arrived. He was now quite old, but his eyes were as young as ever. What was left of Thomas Pinkerton the puppy rested deep within those large pupils. Mickey’s father acquired Thomas Pinkerton during his travels to the mid-west. Mr. O’Malley was fond of old western novels when he was Mickey’s age, so he named his new puppy after the Pinkerton’s. It wasn’t until Mickey turned three that Thomas was added. Mickey felt that Thomas Pinkerton deserved a full name just like everyone else in the family. Mr. O’Malley agreed extending Thomas Pinkerton’s name to Pinkerton O’Malley. Mickey disagreed with this decision. Mickey, in his three year-old wisdom decided Pinkerton was a last name, and that Thomas should be the first name. From that day forward Mickey referred to Thomas Pinkerton as Thomas Pinkerton, he never shortened it to Tom or Pinky or Dog or anything else. Thomas Pinkerton became Mickey’s finest friend and his one true confidant. They did not leave each other’s side unless forced to by the adults. Summer vacation was the best because Mickey could spend most of his day with Thomas Pinkerton, either under the peach tree, at the ravine, or playing football with his friends. Thomas Pinkerton was there, sitting under the peach tree, swimming in the ravine or watching the ball game. This relationship was the definition of friendship and unconditional love.

Mickey shook his head up and down slowly in agreement with Thomas Pinkerton’s idea about people’s great idea limit. Mickey had read in Life the magazine that people get one truly great idea in their lifetime. It was an article written by the inventor of some tech gadget. Mickey and Thomas Pinkerton disagreed. “I know I’ve had a lot of ideas and maybe none of them great, but I’m almost positive Thomas Pinkerton that I’m going to have more than one great idea in my lifetime.” Mickey said this while staring down at the green ground between his blackened bare feet. He spoke solemnly but with vigor. Mickey was not proud but he was confident. In his head he reflected back on some of his best ideas to date: using liquid nails to attach two of his father’s biggest sockets to his little sister’s bike in an effort to have pegs, betting Billy Benjamin he could swim from one side of the ravine to the other in under one second, betting Billy Benjamin he could kiss Mary McArthur on the lips and get away before getting slapped. “Okay Thomas Pinkerton, maybe that last one wasn’t a great idea, but it wasn’t a bad idea!” Mrs. O’Malley called for Mickey to come in as the sun was setting over the reddish brown plateaus of the western horizon. “Come on Thomas Pinkerton,” Mickey exhaled as he sprang to his feet, “it’s ice cream time!” Thomas Pinkerton knew just as well as Mickey what time it was…

After ice cream Mickey showered up for bed. Thomas Pinkerton, at the foot of Mickey’s bed, was already asleep from a long day of heavy thinking and discussion. Thomas Pinkerton’s breath seemed heavy, heavier than Mickey could remember, but as eleven year olds do he began dreaming of tomorrow.

The next morning Mickey woke up to a concerned compassionate face on his mother. Mickey looked to the foot of his bed; Thomas Pinkerton was not there. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Mickey yawned, “Where’s Thomas Pinkerton?”

Mickey sat by the peach tree alone that day. “Thomas Pinkerton, do you believe in re…re-in-car…re-in-car-cernation?” Mickey looked to his right in hopes of a brown-eyed response. He was greeted by a soft breeze filling the space once taken by Thomas Pinkerton. Mickey felt a void inside, his throat swelled and his eye shed a tear. Mickey realized Thomas Pinkerton was more than friend, more than dog and more than a great thinker. Mickey also learned that Thomas Pinkerton would never really die as long as Mickey saved Thomas Pinkerton a spot in his heart. Mickey was one week away from going back to school, and his face was thinning out. He realized that Thomas Pinkerton had taught him many things about the world, but this was perhaps the most important, our loved one’s die and we must move on. We cannot erase them from our memories, but we must embrace their absence and accept their love even when they are gone. This is part of growing up; in fact this is perhaps one small thing that makes us grown-up.

Mickey shed only that one tear for Thomas Pinkerton. He told Thomas Pinkerton he would miss him very much and Mickey thanked Thomas Pinkerton…for everything. Then he bet Billy Benjamin he could climb the tallest tree at the football field…