Often, I wonder if the universe utilizes my days and nights as a personal comic book for itself.
When life gets too relaxed or predictable on my end, the universe seems to say: “Nope, today you’re my entertainment, Rob.”
It was May. The buds on the trees were bursting in our beautiful borderland, bringing forth both potential and promise for a lush green summer.
I travelled to Manitou Rapids early one afternoon to visit my cousin who had been very busy with his high-demand job. It was time for a visit and some laughs.
After spending time visiting him and his family, I received a text on my phone from my friend Kristina – a fellow Manitou community member and a good, long-time friend. However, it was rare I received a call or text from her because as professionals, we are so compulsively busy these days.
I checked my phone, “Hey Rob! Are you on the Rez? Can you do me a favour?”
I’m still puzzled how she knew where I was, but regardless I replied.
“Yes. For sure! What’s up?”
“Can you swing by my Mom’s before you leave, pick up my dogs, and drop them off at my place on your way back to town?”
“No problem! I’ll swing by her house in a few. I’ll leave the rez within the hour.”
En route to her Mom’s, I worked out the logistics in my mind.
My internal dialogue went as follows:
“Leather seats in an SUV aren’t a good place for dog claws to be scampering.”
“Perhaps the back of the SUV would be a better place for them.”
“I wonder if Verna, Kris’ Mom, has a blanket I can put down so there isn’t a hurricane tempest of dog fur in the back of my vehicle.”
“I’ll probably have to stop to vacuum their fur when I get back to town.”
I pulled into her Mom’s driveway, parked, opened the back so loading the dogs into the vehicle would be less of a chaotic feat, and knocked on the door.
“Come in!”
Visiting Verna is always a treat. She grew up with Mom and they have remained friends since childhood.
Ask anyone. Verna performs culinary magic and her home always has a warm hue of welcome.
I told her that Kris asked me to pick up her dogs. She nodded and said “no problem.”
I asked if she had an extra blanket for the ride (which was met with a strange curiosity).
After catching up on tales of family and life, I looked at the time.
“Well, I have to hit the road. Where are the dogs? I’ll bring them out to my vehicle.”
She said, “Right there” while nodding towards the dining room chair.
I didn’t see them.
“Where?”
“They’re right there” – now sharply pointing her lips towards the dining room chair again.
Was I going crazy?
There were no sounds of paws, panting, or barking.
No fur or small sounds of collar bells.
I was reluctant to ask again because I swore Verna would tell me I needed to go sleep in one of the bedrooms before I got behind the wheel again.
But I asked, “Wait. Where?”
“Rob! They’re right there!”
She pointed at two tightly wrapped plastic Safeway bags. Each about the size of a large squirrel, both tied like a bow at the top, two feet from where I was standing.
My heart literally stopped – then exploded within my chest.
I froze and with breath trapped in my chest asked, “These… are the dogs?”
“Yep!”
My blood turned to ice as it dawned on me that I may be transporting someone’s beloved pets that have passed.
I went pale looking at those plastic bags.
“Are they… cremated?”
Verna paused with eyes widened, “What!?”
“Are they cremated?”
Verna burst out laughing and grabbed the edge of the dining room table, erupting with her soulful laughter that I’ve come to know over the last twenty years as only hers.
I stood there puzzled.
She said, “These are bannock dogs! Not real dogs. They are Kris’ favourite meal and snack. I cooked them. You’re just delivering them.”
My whole body relaxed as I matched her laughter.
I was momentarily convinced I would be eulogizing pastries.
At the end of day, Kris had her frybread-wrapped snack delivered successfully and another unforgettable tale was added to “As the Rez Turns.”
– Robert Horton is an educator, author, orator, and linguist. He is a member of Rainy River First Nations.
