Chapter 22 Willi
A much-needed short chapter.
That summer, the family noted Willi coughed a lot and seemed to have less energy. He was fourteen years old, but he had seemed fine until recently. Gilbert took the Pomeranian to the vet and was told he had a heart murmur and was developing congestive heart failure. The vet prescribed pills and a special diet to keep him comfortable, and even assured him the little dog could last a couple more years, but Gilbert was realistic. Gilbert told Maria what the vet's diagnosis was and that they shouldn't expect miracles.
From that point on, Willi became the spoiled heart of the household. Gilbert no longer scolded Maria if he found the dog in her bed; he shrugged and said her body's heat and the mattress were probably good for Willi's arthritic joints. When the Pomeranian tried to hoist his front paws up to beg during meals, he and Maria gave him treats that they used to limit. Maria didn't talk much to Gilbert, but she cooed to the little dog, sounding like Lili did when Maria had first arrived into their lives. Gilbert made his own plans for the little dog's final act.
At one point, he sat down with Maria and Lili and explained that if and when Willi seemed in constant pain or unable to enjoy life, they would need to take him the vet. Maria didn't want to hear it and she went to her room, but Lili went in and talked to her. Gilbert assumed that she told her about her own struggle with her final decision about Bruno. When Maria returned to the dinner table that evening, she looked Gilbert in the eyes and said, "I want some input, and I want to go with you when we do it. He found me on the beach, and I owe him that much." Gilbert nodded, proud of his daughter's unexpected courage.
They moved to Potsdam and finished up preparing for Maria's transition to the private school. They bought the uniform, supplies, and attended orientation. Gilbert was taken aback at how much participation the school expected of parents; he thought mortals sent their children to private schools to have less to do with them, not more. But Lili seemed excited and engaged, talking to the directors and teachers about how to contact her and what she could do in terms of volunteering and fundraising.
Maria had been at school for a couple of weeks, when one morning she couldn't find Willi. He had apparently left her bed in the middle of the night. They looked and found his body wedged between her shoes in her closet. As she wept, Gilbert comforted her, trying to explain that dying animals often tried to find safe, enclosed places for their last moments. He got the wooden box Ludwig had made him. They wrapped Willi in one of Maria's baby blankets and put him in the box and then in the refrigerator. He asked Maria if she wanted to go to school; after all, they wouldn't be able to go to Sanssouci until sunset. She agreed to go.
They ate a silent dinner, got the box and then drove to Sanssouci. The last tourists had left, and the sun was setting. Gilbert had his flashlight, shovel and a meter of sod in the car. Maria carried the box, sometimes weeping, sometimes murmuring to Willi that she loved him and she would never forget him. When they reached the parterre where Friedrich II and his greyhounds were buried, Ludwig was waiting for them, his own flashlight and shovel ready.
Maria watched as her father and uncle dug a grave. She was impressed at how quickly and deeply they made the hole, communicating mostly with glances in the dusk. Then it was her turn to put the box in the grave and she wept as they covered him. Vati carefully laid the sod down on the freshly heaped earth and tamped it down with his boots. Then Ludwig took out a little granite marker and placed it down on the site. Willi was gone, packed away like an old toy or outgrown dress.
"There," he sighed. He turned to Maria. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see his pale eyes shimmering with affectionate tears. "When you come back in January, remember to leave him some sausage, ja?" He hugged her and Maria wept again, grateful for her uncle's powerful arms and golden baritone.
Gilbert shook Ludwig's hand. "Danke for helping us out," he said. He put an arm around Maria and she didn't shrug it off like she had during the past few months. "He was an awesome little dog."
Ludwig nodded. "Ja, he was." He smiled. "He thought he was ten times larger than he was. He ruled poor Bruno!"
"He was the first mammal I ever saw," Maria murmured. She remembered that day on the beach, the tiny furry gray creature pawing and yipping at her. "I wondered why he didn't fly or go back into the water."
Gilbert smiled, remembering that day. "We should head back," he said to Ludwig and they parted ways.
The next morning, Maria asked if she could have some coffee instead of cocoa. Gilbert paused and then nodded. She took it with milk and sugar at first, but gradually took to drinking it black with only sweetener. She liked the bittersweetness, she said. He understood.
Poor little Willi! Maria is leaving her childhood behind. I will now be posting chapters of the Cuckoo Bird every Monday. I've begun posting chapters of my Prussia x Danzig story here every Saturday. It's called "The Pet" and you can find it under "M-rated" PrussiaxPoland fanfics. Check it out and let me know what you think!