When Redbeard was brought into the Holmes family, he was a very happy puppy indeed. Here was a small human child, who gave him food, and took him outside, and played with him, and slipped him scraps of meat under the dinner table. Here was a young boy who loved him. And Redbeard loved him back. Very much. He figured the boy must be called Sherlock, and apparently his name was Redbeard. He heard tales about pirates, none of which he understood, but that was alright, because 'pirates' seemed to make Sherlock happy, and that made him feel happy, too.
There was another young male, a little older than his human, who seemed to not like him. The older boy always looked sad when Sherlock wasn't looking. Redbeard decided he didn't like this older human, especially because Sherlock did not seem to like him either. So, Redbeard did not let the other young boy touch any of his human's things. He was a good dog. Sherlock was proud of him, he did a good job guarding his master's things from this other boy. Sometimes, he would even try to take the dead squirrels away. Redbeard did not approve of this at all. He had worked very hard to catch those squirrels, they were a gift for Sherlock. Sherlock always told him he was a good boy when he brought him gifts or fetched the stick.
Redbeard watched his human grow bigger and taller and the years passed. Redbeard wasn't completely certain, but he thought that he must have also grown bigger. He was certain, though, that Sherlock was the best and most important person in the world. He would do anything for Sherlock. He loved Sherlock. If Sherlock was happy, he was happy, and if Sherlock got upset, then Redbeard got upset too.
Redbeard didn't always understand Sherlock. Sherlock would talk to him a lot, but he only ever learned a few words. 'No', 'up', 'down', 'good dog', 'come here', 'sit', and other such simple words and commands. Although Redbeard didn't always understand his human, he always .knew when something was wrong. The thing that unsettled Redbeard the most was when Sherlock would put things into his arms. Usually, humans hated having sharp things put in their skin. It was confusing. Why wasn't Sherlock angry or sad about the stabby thing in his arm? Even more confusing was that Sherlock seemed to like the stabby thing. Redbeard didn't like the stabby thing. It made Sherlock wrong. But Sherlock shouldn't be wrong, Sherlock was his human. It was very confusing and Redbeard didn't like it one bit.
One day, Sherlock grabbed his leash and took him to the park. He liked the park very much. He got to go for a walk and he got to smell all kinds of things. But then a man came out of the bushes and attacked Sherlock. He yelled something about ruining a 'job' and 'life'. Redbeard wouldn't have any of it. No one touched his human. No one could hurt his human. He jumped at the man and bit him, clawing at him and sinking his teeth into the bad man's face. The man threw him off. Ouch. Redbeard didn't know what was wrong with his foot, but he didn't like it. He knew it was very bad because Sherlock seemed very distressed about it. He didn't his human to feel sad and distressed. He was just happy that he protected him from the bad man. He felt Sherlock lift him up into his arms, and then he didn't feel anything.
In the next week, he felt a lot. His foot hurt a lot and there was an odd human thing on it, and it prevented him from cleaning or scratching. He didn't like it. It was bad, so he gnawed at it. Sherlock told him 'no' when he did, so he only did it when Sherlock wasn't looking. Sherlock picked up the stabby thing again, so when Sherlock was at school, Redbeard lifted his front paws to the dresser and knocked it to the ground. He took it in his mouth and buried it in the garden. Sherlock was not happy when he couldn't find it, but he didn't yell at Redbeard, instead he yelled at the older male.
When Redbeard noticed his fur wasn't as dark as it used to be, and he couldn't see as well, or hear as well, he spent more time sleeping. One time he fell asleep, and suddenly he was looking at himself. Then Sherlock was hunched over his body, and he was crying. Redbeard went over to Sherlock and licked his face. He didn't want Sherlock to cry, it made him sad. Sherlock started to cry a lot, and Redbeard learned the word 'dead'. He learned a lot about 'death', and apparently it meant he wasn't alive anymore, that Sherlock couldn't see him. It made him sad for a little while, but then Sherlock got used to it, and so did Redbeard.
Redbeard was very happy when Sherlock met John. John meant Sherlock had a friend again. John made Sherlock happy. John made sure that Sherlock didn't use the stabby thing. John helped Sherlock when he got hurt. John was loyal. John could take care of Sherlock now. Redbeard was a little sad, but he was glad that Sherlock was safe and happy and well taken-care of. His job was done, John could take it from here.
Redbeard went to a place that he assumed must be the place called 'heaven' that Sherlock mentioned a few times. It must be that place because that place was supposed to be good. Sherlock was there and that was good. Sherlock wasn't there all the time, just sometimes. He would come to this place full of staircases and rooms and papers to think about things and work them out. Sometimes, he needed Redbeard. And when he did, Redbeard was there. There was nowhere he would rather be.
