Chapter 10
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Dad waited outside the emergency room all night, refusing to leave even for a minute. After losing Snoopy, I was the only family he had left in this world.
When he finally heard I was out of danger, he let out a long breath, like the weight of the world had finally been lifted off his shoulders. Then, without saying a word, he left.
For the next few days, he didn’t show up at the hospital again.
It was our driver who quietly told me that Dad had gone searching all over the place, trying to find the perfect resting place for Snoopy.
In the end, he chose a beautiful mountainside spot, surrounded by trees and water; it was peaceful and serene.
On the day of Snoopy’s funeral, I checked myself out of the hospital early against medical advice. I didn’t care what the doctors said. I just had to be there.
The driver pushed my wheelchair all the way to the cemetery.
There were so many people. All of them stood there in silence, faces full of sorrow, standing ramrod straight.
In the crowd, I even spotted a few elderly men in military uniforms.
Their shoulders bore golden insignias–what looked like little bundles of wheat, and each badge had a tiny gold star.
The elderly men stood right at the front.
I recognized one of them–Uncle Casimir, Uncle Slater’s father.
Uncle Slater and Dad stood tall before Snoopy’s grave. In perfect sync, they raised their hands in salute–eyes wet, jaws clenched, paying tribute to the comrade they’d lost.
I never really knew how much Snoopy had done in his life, or how many lives he must have saved to have this many mourners come to honor him.
But to me, Snoopy had always been family.
With Dad’s permission, I placed a pile of Snoopy’s favorite treats at his
“I’m so sorry, old friend…” Dad choked. “I failed to protect you.”
His eyes were red, his voice hoarse with emotion.
grave.
It was only then that I noticed–his hair had turned so much grayer since Snoopy passed. “Dad…” I asked softly, “What about Dixie and her parents?”
He didn’t answer.
There was only a long, heavy silence.
But after that day, no matter how hard I tried, I never heard a single word about Dixie or her parents again.
Their old villa, tucked away in the mountains, had been abandoned for some time. The yard was overgrown with weeds.
She Served Dinner when Dad’s Dog Disappeared.
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And at the university where Dixie was studying, someone had gone in that very day and filed her withdrawal paperwork.
It was as if the entire family had vanished off the face of the earth.
At home, the maids gossiped behind closed doors all the time.
Some said the family was dead. Others claimed they’d been locked away in some classified facility. Maybe they’d never be let out for the rest of their lives.
As for Shawna, Belinda, and the others who had helped them torment me–they too disappeared the very next day without a trace.
Later on, it was the old gardener who told me–he had seen them in the county town near their hometown. He said they walked with a limp, most likely the aftermath of fractured bones that never fully healed.
From then on, every month, Dad and I would go visit Snoopy’s grave together.
Time passed by, and six months later, I brought Dad a wolf hybrid pup that looked almost exactly like Snoopy.
The moment Dad laid eyes on the little one, his face crumpled, tears spilling down his face.
“Snoopy,” he called, “you’re back!”
