The Unfortunate Dog Life of Maxwell Foxhound

Chapter Eight: Something Unexpected

Quite a bit of time had passed and Christmas Eve had finally arrived. Mr. Campbell had just finished walking Wayne, and Mrs. Campbell was knitting by the fire. Maxwell and Apricot were lying next to her rocking chair with the five puppies. Henry and Wayne yawned and fell asleep while Olivia, Mildred, and Trent play-fought. Though, they all had new names: Maxwell was William, and Apricot was Daisy. Though, they hadn't decided on the puppies' names yet.
"William," Mrs. Campbell spoke suddenly. "You remind me a lot of a dog named Maxwell that my husband's parents used to own. They're homeless now. I feel terrible, but David doesn't care for them one bit. They're probably dead by now. Say, don't I have a photo of him?" She got up from her wooden rocking chair and placed her knitting needles and yarn in it. She peeked over the mantel and found a photo of a dog in a spruce picture frame.

"I think this photo is going to be a picture of you," Apricot whispered to Maxwell as Mrs. Campbell strode back to her chair. He nodded and looked up at Mrs. Campbell as she knelt beside them. The puppies squirmed around like little snakes.

"Here we go," she said, turning the picture for Maxwell and Apricot to see. "Here he is. He was just two in this photo, and he was also depressed. He had just lost his parents to a coyote. Poor thing. He had the same black pattern on his back as you... and the same eyes... and the same ears... and the same nose... and the same black speckled front left leg as you... wait—Maxwell?"

Maxwell barked and jumped around happily. "Aunt Alia! I missed you!" are the words that Mrs. Campbell didn't understand, but she heard them as yaps. Looks like Maxwell had found the right family after all.

"Maxwell! I can't believe it's you! Are you alright? I mean, you can't answer me, but I can't believe that it's really you! And who are you, then, Daisy?" Mrs. Campbell inquired with a hint of excitement in her tone.
Coincidentally, there was an apricot fruit sitting on the kitchen counter. Maxwell nodded over to it and strode calmly before grasping it in his mouth.

"Apricot? Like Doctor Tuffin's dog? You look exactly like her. So, you are—er—were, his?"
Apricot barked and leaped around just as Maxwell had done. Meanwhile, Olivia chased her little tail before tumbling in a tizzy to the ground.

"It's so sad," Mrs. Campbell said with tears in her eyes, "that he passed away. I'm profoundly sorry, Apricot."
Apricot wagged her tail slowly in melancholy. She knew that it had already happened, so she didn't mind as much. It was already done. He was already gone. And it was irrevocable. The puppies tried to comfort her by snuggling up next to her, and that helped a great deal.

On Christmas Day, the puppies were showered in gifts, but Maxwell had become strangely ill. He was an ice cube on the outside of his body, but on the inside, he was a fire. He began to cough and breathing heavily.

"We need to get Maxwell to a vet," Lisa demanded dramatically.

"No, he just has some allergies—don't worry, pumpkin," Mr. Campbell said, trying to calm her. It didn't help.
Lisa began kicking and thrashing and screaming, clutching her teddy bear closely, before releasing it and tugging one of Maxwell's ears. He whimpered sadly, resting his head on his paws, and looking up at the entirety of the Campbells with enlarged, droopy eyes.

"Poor dear," Mrs. Campbell tried to console Maxwell, stroking his fur lavishly, and Mr. Campbell scooped Lisa up, patting Maxwell's head.

"Let's let him rest. Lisa, go and play with the puppies. Little bundles of energy, they are." He chuckled to himself, and at his command, Lisa squirmed her way out of his tight grasp, scampering over to play with the puppies.
Apricot trotted over to Maxwell. "You don't look fine. What's wrong?" she asked worriedly, and Maxwell switched his gaze towards her.

"I'm fine, alright? No need to worry about me!" he snapped angrily, and Apricot looked at him with shocked, disbelieving eyes.

"I'll let you be, then," she murmured sadly, and Maxwell felt his mind getting into a tangle, but as he opened his mouth to protest, no words were said. Everyone was gone, and Maxwell was left prostrate on the living room floor. He had nothing to do, so he lay there and closed his eyes.

The next few days were all the same: Pain, rarely eating, coughing, labored breathing, and sleeping. The irregular breathing made the Campbells concerned, but they just shrugged their shoulders and assumed it was because of a "stuffy nose," or even the so-called "allergies." Apricot was no longer upset with him, only speaking to him when necessary. They both had to act their best in front of the puppies, and if they didn't, the puppies would feel torn and heartbroken. Neither Maxwell nor Apricot wanted that.

Maxwell gingerly approached Apricot, limping and coughing on the way. He felt so sorry for what he had said and was hoping Apricot knew that it was never true. Apricot felt profoundly sorry for how he felt and what he was going through, understanding wholeheartedly.

"Hey, dear," Maxwell said with tears in his bloodshot eyes, trying to remain stable on his feet, but wobbling slightly. He could barely breathe, and his tail was straight down.

"Is everything alright?" Apricot asked worriedly, her voice sounding cautious.

"No... I can't... breathe," Maxwell choked as he gasped for air.

"Maxwell, my love!" Apricot screamed.

"Apricot," Maxwell breathed.

"Maxwell," Apricot wept tearfully.

"Papa!" all five of the pups sobbed, confused.

"Don't... don't go... please... I love you," Apricot murmured.

Maxwell said nothing more and just collapsed onto the wooden floor, knocked unconscious, his eyes were open but didn't have emotion in them. Apricot immediately realized that he was unconscious. The puppies were nonplussed in this perplexing situation.

Apricot began to bark hysterically as if nothing mattered more than her partner. The puppies then realized that something was wrong. They began running in circles around Maxwell frantically, which they rarely did unless they were panicked.

"Daisy! I mean, APRICOT!" Mr. Campbell screamed at Apricot from the kitchen with a snap of his newspaper. He then slammed it on the kitchen table and got up from his chair to see what was going on. Lisa made it in before him, though. "Papa, Maxwell's gone! Gone, I tell you! Gone!" Lisa cried, tugging at her father's pant leg and throwing a crying fit.

"Max..." Apricot sobbed, and the puppies howled like crazy.

"MOMMA!" Lisa screamed-cried, weeping hysterically.

Mrs. Campbell rushed to her aid. She tried to console Lisa, but she was already thrashing and crying. She ended up on the floor, kneeling beside Maxwell, sobbing.

"Why isn't Papa waking up, Momma?" Trent asked casually, and Apricot tried to find an answer, but there was none.

"I... don't know," she tried, but they both knew she was lying.

"I want Papa!" Olivia yelped in alarm, not knowing what was wrong with Maxwell, but as she saw him lying on the cold hard ground, she panicked.

"Me too!" Mildred added eagerly, not knowing precisely what they were talking about.

"Me three!" Trent cried, desperate to get into the sudden excitement.

"Me four!" Henry exclaimed.

"ME FIVE!" Wayne added, loudest of them all.

"He's... going to be... fine," Apricot said, holding back her tears. She gulped as they saw Maxwell shoved into a portable cage. They followed him out the door, but Mr. Campbell ushered them back inside.

"PAPA! NO!" Olivia cried.

"No! No! No!" Henry kicked and screamed.

"He's gone, pups—" Apricot tried to say firmly but failed and wept harder.

"No, he's not!" Trent muttered, trying to reassure himself, but it was no use. Maxwell was truly gone.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, pups. It's okay," Apricot shhed and comforted them.

Mildred and Wayne were calm but were upset like their brothers and sister. They took turns poking their heads through the dog door: They watched as the Campbells pulled out of the driveway.