Cooking With Dogs

This is a story that I wrote for my son. He said he wanted it to be about dogs and becoming a world class chef so that's what I did. There is a dog park nearby that is just like this, pure heaven...

The old man feels the sun on his wizened face, warm and full of promise. He can smell the thin mountain air of his Colorado childhood as he breathes deeply and holds it in. God, I had forgotten how good it feels to take a full, deep breath. He had just celebrated his 115th birthday last August and while that age is much more common with the technology of the 2100's, it is still a very distinguished number. I have lived a wonderful life, he thinks, my kids, my wife...A sudden bark in the distance pulls him back to his surroundings. I am having the dream again! Every night, it seems, he comes here in his dreams, a memory mixed with longing. The path before him is dusty and he swears he can taste the grit in his teeth as a large Labrador Retriever races past him chasing a ball. We used to come here all the time, he mused, my parents, sisters and me, every spring when the weather changed, we would return...With the unique freedom of a dream, he starts to run down the well worn path he knows so well. His legs fly with an abandon he hasn't felt in decades as a pair of large, light brown Boxers match him step for step. He looks around and sees the untouched land of the Colorado plains. Trees just beginning to bud, tall prairie flowers in a brilliant purple and the afternoon sun shining on the snow covered mountains. He hears the whinny of a horse coming from the old stable on the hill. How he rejoiced when he took his first riding lesson there! How old was he then--9, 10? Nigh on 100 years ago. He searches his memory trying to recall the name of this magical place, what was it? Cherry Creek, yes that was it! It was a parcel of protected land right by his house, there was a reservoir there and a special place for people to let their dogs run free..he turns the corner and sees a purebred German Shepherd running alongside a black, full-sized poodle. A snow white husky with one blue eye vies for his attention as he reaches out to stroke its silky fur. He feels pure, unadulterated joy as he reaches the bank of the small creek just knowing what awaits him there.

He has accomplished so many things in his long life, he thinks. He fondly recalls his childhood. Ah, the joys of being a boy! A hundred memories dance across his mind at once, running, jumping, sports, sticks and mud pies, taunting his 2 big sisters"those carefree days! His Mom in the kitchen, taking a large, brown turkey out of the oven. Is that when I first discovered that cooking was in my blood? His Dad bringing him to wrestling tournaments every weekend in the spring and coaching his football team in the fall. God, how I've missed them, he thinks as he pictures himself as he was then. Tall for his age, blond hair and skinned knees. A spattering of freckles on his nose that would get darker every summer whether he liked it or not. His mother always complaining that he had a dirty face that would never go away, no matter how many times she would try clean it. He chuckles as he remembers her exasperation, I would always duck just in time and the dirt would stay. I was constantly moving then, unstoppable! He sees himself as a teenager, jumping up and catching the ball mid-air as he ran into the endzone for the touchdown. The crowds cheering, the proud expression on his father's face. The first time he made the perfect souffle at cooking class, just beginning his dream of becoming a chef. My parents weren't sure at the time, but they had no idea it would turn out so well. He served in the military, he recalls proudly, 10-mile marches every morning followed by peeling hundreds of potatoes in the mess, the military preferring to do things the old- fashioned way. It was good training, he thinks, reminded him of the basics"something every good chef needed to remember.

A white flash darts past him, pulling him out of his reverie. God, that's a Greyhound--look at him run! He rounds the corner, just past the second switchback and sees it once again, in all it's glory. The creek is high this time, he notes, as the dream is never exactly the same twice. The water flows at a decent clip as dozens of happy dogs frolic and play. He sees a Chocolate Lab swim after a ball as a short, stubby Dachshund attempts to steal it away. Every kind of dog he can ever imagine is represented here, every color and size. His eyes feast upon the happy scene, this is how it was exactly. He can almost see himself, pants rolled up, shoes thrown to the side as he stands knee deep in the water with his favorite stick in hand, the conductor of his very own canine symphony. A tiny Chihuahua darts between his legs and runs off before he can even react. A large pack of dogs breaks away and begins to run at a full gallop. Just then, he hears two loud barks as a gorgeous Collie races into the scene, a Lassie dog, and begins to form the unruly group into a moving herd...Could it be? His heart begins to race, he knows this dog, he is sure of it. He cups his hands around his mouth and yells out in a booming voice, a voice, he notices, that is much younger than his own: “Thunder! Thunder, come here boy!”

He remembers how he traveled the world as a journeyman cook, a wandering spirit, going to the ends of the earth for the perfect spice or rarest recipe. “Your Grandpa was a marvelous cook”, his mother would tell him, “He would always say : if you can read, you can cook” and that, the old man thinks, was possibly the best advice he had ever received. He read up plenty on all the great ones, tweaking as he went, experimenting and perfecting old recipes. In all of his travels over the years, there was one constant. He always had a dog with him.

The Collie breaks away and barrels towards him, long hair flying in the wind, splashing water in his wake like a scene from a movie. “Thunder, is it really you?” he cries as the dog knocks him over in his joy, gleefully licking his face. Miraculously, the fall does not hurt at all and he doubles over in laughter as Thunder continues to slobber all over him.

Thunder was his sister's dog, he remembers some 90 + years ago now? He lost his sister a few years back and thinks that the trouble with great age is being the only one left, the last testament to people and a world that lives on only in his dreams....and then of course, there was her, always her. The one great love of his life..

He can just see her in his mind's eye, her golden hair shining in the sun, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had been quite the ladies' man in those days but no one had ever captured his heart. He was building quite a reputation as a mystery chef who traveled the world with his faithful dog. An internet sensation they called it, as people would try to track him down, get a picture or sample one of his dishes. He was even offered his own reality cooking show called “Cooking with Dogs”. That still makes him laugh out loud at the thought of how silly everything was back then. He had a little white terrier with one brown eye named Sammy and remembers that fateful day when Sammy ran up to this beautiful woman, tail wagging, refusing to leave her side until he came over and introduced himself. God bless that dog, how smart he was! That was it, he sighs, almost 70 years together. They had 3 amazing kids, countless grandchildren, a few greats with even one great-great thrown in. She was with him through it all"his first restaurant, the great honor of his many Michelin Stars, the highs and lows of a life well-lived together and through it all there were dogs, always dogs.

He remembers another night, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face as he says goodbye to her, feels her take her last breath. Their loyal old Shepherd lies at her feet refusing to leave her side...

The old man blinks back tears as Thunder follows him down the final path. One by one, he sees them coming towards him, all the dogs of his life. He can name them all and each one brings back a different memory in a joyful reunion. He starts calling out to them as they surround him-Sammy, how I've missed you boy! Barnaby, Shep, Sparky, Jake and even old Cassie--the dog his family had when he was just a baby. On and on they come, his loyal friends, how blessed he has been to have known them. He comes to the end of the path with sadness, for he knows that this is where the dream will end, he has never gone past here before. He quickly scans the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of just one dog more before he awakens. C'mon, he pleads, she just has to be here!

He sees himself back at age 6, driving into the mountains with his family. “Where are we going?” he asked for perhaps the 100th time as Mom and Dad looked at each other and smiled, “You'll see!” They drove for hours that night ending up on a curvy dirt road seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He and his sisters gasped in delight as they rounded the bend and saw a pack of Golden Retrievers running along in greeting. Up the long driveway, they finally stopped and he burst through the car door. There were Goldens everywhere in an outdoor enclosure, barking and huddling together with their tails wagging. He will never forget the pure joy of that day when his parents told him that this was his birthday present, a new Golden puppy. “Heavenly Goldens” the place was called and it sure was to his 6 year old self, when Dad picked up a curious, playful girl pup and put her in his arms. It was instant love, he thinks as he remembers her light golden fur mixed with just a touch of white. As the owner of the kennel bathed her in the sink, he watched over her, impatiently waiting until he could hold her again. Lightning. Her name was Lightning, the perfect match for Thunder the wonder Collie, he laughs, remembering the two of them together--what a pair they were! The first dog that ever belonged to him, the very best friend of his childhood years.

The old man sighs and starts to go back knowing that the dream is at an end, as it has been countless of times before. In the distance, he hears a lone bark from somewhere very far away. He turns back around and sees a new path, one that has never been there before. There it is again"that bark, I know it! All of a sudden he sees her, in the distance. She begins to run to him, his girl, his best friend"she is here! She leaps into his arms as he begins to cry, tears falling into her light Golden fur. I knew she had to be here, just knew it. He hugs her fiercely; Waggle Butt I used to call her because she would wag her entire back end whenever she saw me. Lightning licks him again, barks and heads back down the path that is now covered in mist. “Wait girl! Where are you going?” He begins to follow as she runs down the path and all of a sudden, he is that boy of 6 again, he can feel it, hear it in his voice. His little legs pound the dirt path as he goes full tilt and tries to keep up with his young Golden. They round the next bend and he is a teen again, strong and invincible, an invisible football clutched to his chest. Down the road they go as boy and pup become man and dog, farther and farther as his lifetime pack of dogs follows closely behind them. She leads him to a clearing, filled with endless, bright-colored wildflowers. He stops, old once more and vaguely makes out shapes in the distance coming towards him. In the air, he can smell something cooking, a delicious aroma that evokes his childhood. He can smell the spices, expertly picking out each one and his mouth waters at the very thought of it. Such a grand meal, what flavors, what I could do with ingredients like this! I really haven't been hungry in years, he thinks sadly, haven't been able to cook at all. Suddenly, Lightning barks, he looks up and finally sees them.

He blinks his eyes to try to clear his sight, this can't be! His mother and father wave at him, young and smiling with joy at the sight of his gnarled, old form. His sisters are there, laughing and waving their arms as he shuffles towards them in pure wonderment. There are others here too--family and friends that he hasn't seen in a lifetime. Relatives that look familiar beam at him, all beckoning him forward. In what he can only describe as a miracle, the years begin to fall off again as he and Lightning cross the prairie flowers and his true self emerges. Then, another figure steps forward and he loses all hesitation. He dashes across the field, Lightning at his heels, filled with elation and bursting with love. She falls into his arms; they are young once more, then they are old. They flicker like a light switch back and forth in their embrace, then land on how they were when they first met. If this is a dream, he thinks, may I never wake up. “No Charlie, this is not a dream. Lightning has led you home, my love, and dinner is almost ready” She says as she takes his hand and leads him over to his family at the largest dinner table he has ever seen. Together again, this time forever. His happiness complete, he walks with her to his place at the table, with Lightning at his side and an enormous pack of dogs following behind.

The hospital room is filled to capacity. There are people everywhere, gathered around the withered old figure in the bed. His children are there, holding his hands as several generations pass by to say goodbye to their patriarch. Friends and associates stop to pay tribute to one of the greatest chefs of all time, a true legend and a life well lived. They are joined in their vigil by an ancient Golden Retriever, his final dog, who has been given special permission by the hospital to be at his side. Everyone has left the room, a blessed moment of silence, as she lifts her head and watches him intently. She is the only witness when he takes his final breath, a smile of pure radiance on his face. She lays her head upon his chest, a loyal friend to the very last, and goes to sleep.