This story came to me last night (March 25, 2004) soon after returning from South Paws, the vet hospital where we said goodbye to our only remaining cat, Jean-Luc. He suffered from an unknown possible parasite that left him anemic and at the end, blind. He was ten years old.
We lost our other cat Barkley on February 2, 2004 due to lymphoma. He was also ten years old.
This story is dedicated to both of them.
Story: Confucius
Time: During Chinatown Murder Mystery-during the flash back.
Characters: Young Peter and Caine
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them. Will return them when I am finished.
Confucius
By
Alisa Joaquin
Caine entered the small sheltered garden to find his son with his head hanging down. He could sense Peter was angry and deeply saddened from the day's events. Everything had been cleared away, as if it had never been.
"Am I invited?" Caine asked his son, as he sat beside him.
Silence prevailed. Caine was about to leave when his son finally spoke.
"Why did Thomas kill Confucius?" Peter asked.
"I do not know."
Peter grew silent, then the tears began to fall. "I'm going to miss him."
"That is the way of the world, my son. I will miss Confucius as well."
Caine calmly watched as Peter suddenly exploded off the bench they had been sitting on and began pacing around the small sheltered garden. "I don't understand, why would Thomas do something like that? He was a dog. He never harmed anyone."
"Peter, do you remember when Thomas came to us? He was a very angry young man."
"I remember. I think he's still angry. He told me once that he was looking for a way to end the suffering of others, but I didn't know what he meant. Pop, do you think he's looking for revenge?"
Caine looked at his son with awe. "What makes you say that, my son?"
"I heard him mumbling something in the library. He sounded disappointed that he couldn't find what he was looking for. I was going to help him, when I heard someone else come in. I didn't recognize the man's voice."
"A stranger had entered the temple library?" Caine questioned his son, his eyes growing narrow with concern.
"I heard Thomas talking to the man. I couldn't help overhearing them. I know it was wrong to listen in on their conversation, but when I heard Thomas said he succeeded in killing the dog, I had to find out more."
"Go on, my son," Caine encouraged his son rather than reprimand Peter for his transgression.
"The man said that now he was ready for the next step. I tried to hear what they were saying, but then they walked away and I was afraid to follow them. I didn't want them to know I had been there. I thought maybe I better tell you, but . . . When I tried to find you . . . I . . . "
"You did the right thing, my son," Caine said gently, giving his son comfort and forgiveness.
"Do you know what they were talking about?"
"I do not know." Caine did not voice his thoughts further, but knew that Thomas would have to be watched. Whoever the stranger was, the man had a great impact on the young monk, and Caine became afraid for his soul. It would appear that Thomas was meddling in things that he should not. Caine was brought out of his own thoughts as his son spoke about the dead dog.
"Pop," Peter began, "What should we do about Confucius? Where is he?"
"The dog has been moved to the infirmary," Caine sighed deeply. "His body is being prepared for burial. What would you like to do, my son?"
"I'd like to bury him in the temple graveyard, up on the hill."
"That would be a good spot."
"Confucius will like that spot," Peter added. "Did you know that he never bit anyone? Jason and I found him in the woods. Someone had abandoned him. His leg had been broken. After we tried to heal him, with Master Po's help, did you know that he would sit next to us in meditation class? He even laid his head down on his paws as if he was meditating, too. And then when we went to kung fu practice, he sat and watched us practice. I swear, Pop that dog was watching us as if he was trying to learn. When we were doing our stretches, he would stretch out on the floor, too. Then one day, he came into the classroom when we were having our lessons and when Master Kahn was giving us one of his history lessons, I swear Confucius was listening to every word."
"I remember, my son. He was a wise dog."
The End