Goodbye, Sweet Boy

Stiles Stilinski was a happy, bubbly, talkative and sweet child. From the time he was born, his eyes would light up with wonder, awe, curiosity and mischief. He soon became the boy called Mischief.

When Stiles's daddy got deployed, the boy made him lots of cards, and even made some for the other men and women who were missing their families too. His daddy always smiled at the cards.

It was during a Skype call, one that occurred after eight months apart, that Stiles lost his hero. His dad was just reading the last line of the newest card aloud when there was a loud bang and then fire. The camera picked up the words: "I love you my Mischief," and then when the smoke cleared, Stiles saw his daddy's limp body covered in blood.

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Stiles was now seven. The bombing happened two years ago, and Stiles hadn't said a word since. Therapists tried. His mommy tried. His teachers and friends tried. No one got through to him. He still ate, still went to school and still slept but the boy with eyes full of Mischief was no more.

When Stiles was eight, he came home from school to find a small chocolate lab waiting for him. He let out a soft gasp and fell to his knees. The red collar was beautiful, and he wrote down on a piece of paper what he wanted to name the puppy.

The next day, Stiles's puppy wore his new red collar proudly with a gold tag bearing his information. It had their address and phone number on the back. On the front it had his name.

Noah.

Mommy cried but told her son the name was perfect.

Noah was the best puppy ever and slowly Stiles started interacting with the world more. The trauma didn't leave, and Stiles still didn't talk. However, he did smile, laugh and giggle. It was progress that gave his mommy hope.

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That hope was quickly doused when Stiles was found on the bathroom floor, pale and unconscious with blue lips. It was Noah who led Stiles's mommy upstairs.

Doctors were solemn and told her there was very little they could do. The boy was gravely ill, and they offered to make him comfortable as much as they could.

No one could have predicted any of it. Claudia refused to give up though, and the day Stiles ate on his own, sitting up in the hospital bed was a miracle.

He was in the hospital for a year and a half, before getting released on his tenth birthday. They went out to celebrate, Noah right by his boy's side constantly. Noah slept in bed with the boy, played fetch with the boy and neither was ever seen without the other. That was until Stiles passed out at the park on a really hot day. Noah howled for help and barked until someone came.

Not a single person was prepared for that day. It was the last time anyone would see Stiles up and moving around. Never again did the boy open his eyes. Never again did he smile, laugh or fidget.

They brought Noah to the hospital to say goodbye. The pup didn't understand at first, having been excited to see his boy, but almost immediately upon entering the hospital room, Noah knew. His ears drooped, his tail stopped wagging and he let out a grief filled howl.

By the weekend, Stiles was being lowered into the ground, his life ended just after reaching a decade. The doctors still had no answers but offered several theories, all of which Claudia ignored. Did it really matter anymore?

After her baby boy was in the earth, Claudia returned home to a silent house. It had never felt so silent and empty-so void-before. Never before had the woman felt so alone.

"Noah?" she called softly.

The pup didn't respond, and it was then Claudia noticed the little one wasn't there. She tracked him as best she could and sobbed when she found him.

While everyone else had left the cemetery, Noah remained behind, in spite of the rain and the chilly air. Claudia called for the pup, but he didn't so much as twitch. It was only upon closer inspection that she realized the pup wasn't breathing. She could see tears and a frostbitten nose, but that wasn't the part that completely broke her but rather the soft toy wolf between Noah's paws and the way the pup laid protectively across his boy's final resting place.

Claudia sank to her knees as she looked at the now lifeless pup. She choked on a sob and realized for the first time that animals too can die of a broken heart.

She buried Noah next to her son and when the dark thoughts hit her late at night, Claudia held fast to the belief that her son, her little Mischief, was waiting for her to one day join him. She even smiled softly, knowing without a doubt that Mischief was there too, looking after the boy in death just as he had in life.

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From that day on, Claudia celebrated the life her son had lived in his tragically short ten years and dedicated a small bookshop in his honor. People were welcome and well, in honor of Noah, even the puppies and dogs had their own place to curl up while their humans shopped.

A year after losing her son and Noah, Claudia adopted a whom she named Mischief. By doing this, she celebrated and remembered for the rest of her life.

When she left the world at the age of eighty-nine, her eyes opened to a bright light. A small hand slipped into hers and squeezed. "I've missed you mama." The voice was one she hadn't heard in so long and when her hand was licked, she knew Noah was there too, just as she always believed he would be. Another gentle lick came, and she smiled at Mischief's presence.

Claudia was reunited with her son, with her son's puppy, little Noah, with her own dog, Mischief and with her husband, Noah. Despite the horrors they faced, they now had forever, and they wouldn't waste any of it.

The saying went all dogs go to heaven, but Stiles liked to say that all dogs, as man's best friend, go to paradise.