Teddy Bears and Apple Slices

I first suspected Oso was sick a month before he died.

Earlier that year I had decided that I wanted to be a baker after watching too many episodes of The Great British Bake Off. I was scowling at my poorly made lattice, silently debating whether or not I should remake it when I noticed Oso laying by my feet.

“You’ve been so lazy, angel,” I said, bending down to scratch his ear.

Oso only blinked in reply – his apathy a stark difference from his usual enthusiasm.

I frowned for a moment before standing to grab the few slices of apples I had saved for him.

“Who wants apples?” I exaggerate my facial features and tone of voice as I offered him the fruit.

Again, Oso only stared at me before laying his head back down to continue resting. A tightness began to form in my gut as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“Oso,” I murmured softly, “Baby, they’re your favorite.”

Despite his lack of response, I continue to hold out my hand and coo at him, hoping to convince him to take the offered fruit. I am still speaking softly to him when my mother returns home from work.

“Hello! I’m home,” she cheerily sang out.

When she doesn’t receive the welcome she is expecting, she comes to find us – our positions unchanged.

“Thought I’d find you guys here,” she said before noticing the unfinished pie on the counter. “Oh, I’ve been hoping you’d make apple pie next. I’ll have to take some with me tomorrow.”

“Oso is sick,” I injected. “He didn’t eat his apples.”

My mother looks at me in amusement. “Just because he didn’t want to eat fruit doesn’t mean he’s sick. Give him a piece of meat instead.”

“Oso loves apples – more than chicken, beef, and even watermelon. But it’s not just that,” Each word falling out of my mouth more quickly than the last the longer I talked. “He’s been so tired lately. And this morning I had to spoon-feed him his breakfast. But not his ‘I’m cute. Feed me.’ type of way. He just didn’t want to eat, which is ridiculous because he loves to eat.”

“Okay, okay,” my mother soothed, holding her hands out in an effort to calm me. “We’ll take him to see the vet.”

“Thank you.”

“So there’s really nothing wrong with him?” I asked, softly tapping my fingers against my crossed arms.

“Just allergies,” the vet responded.

“But what about his loss of appetite?”

“He spends a lot of time outside, right? The constant exposure to dust and pollen most likely aggravated his symptoms, and he felt too uncomfortable to eat. I’m sending you home with a prescription that will have him feeling better in no time.”

I nod silently before peering over my shoulder to make eye contact with my mother. She offers me a reassuring smile before coming to stand by me.

“Thank you so much. Oso really had us worried for a moment there.”

“Not at all,” the vet replied easily. “I’ll meet you in the front okay? But is it okay if I take Oso through the back with me? I know the girls would be happy to see him.”

“Of course,” my mother chuckled. “Mr. Popular over here loves getting attention.”

The vet smiled in amusement before leading Oso out of the room. My mother takes a moment to adjust the bag on her shoulder before walking toward the reception desk. I trail after her at a slower pace.

He’s okay, I think to myself. He’s fine. Stopping freaking out. He’ll be back to normal soon.

But Oso didn’t return to normal. His demeanor remained phlegmatic and he only ate when he was pleaded to. I had begun to make a nuisance out of myself at his veterinary clinic, taking him back for follow-up visits and constantly calling to speak with his vet – and later vet technicians when she wasn’t available. I was told his demeanor had to do with his growing age and that a change in diet could entice him to eat again. None of the advice I was given seemed to work, and his vibrancy and liveliness seemed to diminish a little more with each passing day.

A few weeks after his first diagnosis, I had a plan. I prepared a picnic basket with mini apple pies, fresh apple slices, cubed watermelon, and chicken. I placed the picnic basket and a neatly folded blanket by the front door before walking over to where Oso lay napping on the floor.

“Osito,” I ran my fingers through his fur. “Oso, baby, let’s go.”

Oso lifted his head and blinked slowly at me. For a moment I thought he was going to go back to sleep, but he gradually stood up and walked towards the front door.

The sun shone brightly that day. Shrill screams of excitement rung through the park from where children played. The geese honked in agitation as they waited to be fed.

I spread our blanket in a shaded area underneath a large oak tree. I opened up the picnic basket and placed the food in front of Oso.

“Go ahead,” I forced a cheery smile. “It’s okay. You can eat whatever you want. Eat all of it. Even the pies.”

Oso turned away and laid his head over his paws.

“Oso,” I cried out softly. “Please. Please, eat something.”

I held my face in my hands, desperately trying and failing to compose myself. Something was wrong and it didn’t have to do with his age or whatever allergies he might have had. I had to help him and bring back my vibrant Oso – only my plan wasn’t working. Nothing was working, and my best friend was withering away in front of me.

After a few moments of silence, I heard the sound of chewing. I roughly wiped away stray tears as I looked up to see Oso tentatively eating a slice of apple.

“Here,” I chocked out, immediately handing him another slice.

Oso dutifully took it and had a few more before eating the rest of his food.

We stood at the park past sunset. We walked the wide gravel path that ran the perimeter of the lake, stopping every so often to watch the ducks and geese glide through the murky green water. The trees we passed under were full of leaves, intertwining together to create a green canopy. The flowers had yet to bloom, but a fresh, sweet smell still lingered in the air.

The sun began to sink into the lake’s waters as the day progressed. The sky was a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, and the water reflected this. People began to return home as the park darkened, leaving us alone. I keep Oso close to me as I watch the contrast between the black lake and the bright sky.

Two days later Oso was euthanized at an emergency vet clinic. The cancer had spread too far. It was the kinder thing to do the vet told me as I remained holding onto him afterward.

“He was strong,” he said. “It’s a miracle that he lived as long as he did. It was almost like he was waiting for something.”