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The Cranbrook Chronicle
FEATURE
From the freelance desk
By Sean Fitz-Gerald, Year 7, Hone
Jack
It was the hardest decision I ever had to make.
Jack had been restless all day. He couldn’t
stop running in circles and scratching at the
back door. He whimpered and barked at
me through the light-dappled glass screen,
rubbing his snout against the stone tiles. I
told Dad I was going to take him for a walk.
I pulled myself off the sofa and walked to the
kitchen to fetch his lead. Strolling to the door,
Jack was already jumping and shouting, urging
me to walk a little faster. I took my time with
the door. Jack was a real laugh to tease. I
opened the door a crack, and Jack shoved his
nose in, whimpering. Then I pushed it open
all the way, and let him throw his shaggy body
right at me in excitement, and snap at his blue
lead. I whispered in his ear, ‘Good boy Jack,
calm down, there’s a boy, calm down.’ He sat,
and I clipped on his lead. He rushed me out
the back gate, and we bolted down the path.
I’ve always loved the park. Looking up
through the trees, I saw the sun shining
down, filtering through the leaves, painting
everything a golden hue. Jack had slowed
down to a contented trot, sniffing and pawing
the carpet of autumn leaves that layered the
floor. We had a special spot that we always
went to. The park was huge, but Jack and I
always knew where to go. We crossed the
road, and entered the thick brush. I clipped
off Jack’s lead, and having regained his
energy, Jack blasted forth into the bushes.
Small birds scattered into the air, frightened
of Jack’s crushing footsteps, and his loud,
curious personality. We charged on, stumbling
through the undergrowth, until we reached a
clearing. Across the field, a bench lying under
a looming tree stood ten metres from the road.
This was our special spot. Jack and I sprinted
through the sea of grass, the sun shining
nakedly through the sky and onto our backs.
Jack couldn’t control himself. It seemed as if he
leapt and snapped at the very sky above, giving
deep, throaty barks as he ran. We reached our
spot, and I threw myself onto the bench. Jack
collapsed at my feet, panting heavily. Jack was
peculiar like that. Once we reached this bench,
he had no other interests than taking a nap,
which was fine with me. As I sat there with my
eyes shut, soaking up the sunlight, I felt Jack’s
8
body leave my feet. Seconds later, I heard a
huge bark. I opened my eyes, and sat up, to
see Jack charging across the field towards the
road. Over at the other side, a cat was scaling
a tree. I screamed at Jack to stop, and heel, but
he paid no attention to me. He bolted across
the road.
The vet was trying to hold him down, but
Jack was kicking and going crazy. Dad moved
to help him, but Jack scrambled off the table
and fell to the floor on his side. A yelp pierced
the air. I screamed his name and rushed to
him, but Dad stepped in front and held me
back. ‘He’s so confused and stressed he’ll bite
anything, son,’ he said. I looked at my bleeding
hand and remembered when the car hit him,
and how I tried to pick him up. The driver
and the vet carried Jack’s bleeding body to the
table, and Dad took me outside. He told me to
wait and be brave, and then ran back into the
room. I waited for hours.
The vet and Dad sat with me in the waiting
room. The vet was talking to me, but I could
barely hear him. ‘Jack’s asleep for now, but
soon he’ll wake up. Jack needs surgery, but the
process is very dangerous, and Jack may not
survive…’ Dad interrupted gently, ‘we may
have to put him down, son.’
It was the hardest decision I ever had to make.
This week’s student freelance
contributors are:
Henry Warner, Year 10, Chelmsford
Sean Fitz-Gerald, Year 7, Hone
If you have something you would
like published in the next student
writing edition of The Chronicle
(date to be confirmed), please
email directly to rduke@cranbrook.
nsw.edu.au. See the Advertisement
section for more information.