to greet Bill when he got home from school instead of leaping up, paws on Bill’s chest, trying to lick
his face. Dad had taken him to the vet’s several times over the last few months, and this time, Dad
came home by himself. He explained that the vet had said it was kinder to put Spot to sleep.
Bill knew that meant Spot was dead but he didn’t want to believe it. He knew Spot was old. He
wasn’t like he used to be but Bill had sort of expected—and wanted—that Spot would always be
there. He tried to hold back his tears but couldn’t. His mother gave him a hug and said, “That’s okay.
You loved Spot and he loved you. It’s okay to be sad.”
Bill sobbed himself to sleep that night. In fact, he cried so much he wasn’t sure if he had slept at
all. The next day at school he was in a daze and, probably, didn’t hear a word that his teacher said. He
didn’t want to play with his schoolmates at lunchtime or after school. All he could do was think about
Spot.
He found himself wondering if there had been a mistake. Could Dad have got the news wrong?
What if Spot had got better before the vet put him to sleep? Should they go back to the vet’s to check?
He knew this hope was unrealistic but didn’t want to accept that Spot would never be coming home.
Now, if you knew Bill, I’m sure you’d like him. He’s a nice kid, far from being an angry guy, but
there were times, at the moment, when he’d snap at his sister or yell at his parents when they asked
him to do something—and then sink into feelings of despair and sadness. At times it seemed unfair.
Why should Spot die when he had been such a good buddy and never hurt anyone?
Gradually—so gradually that I am not sure Bill really noticed it—he began to listen to some of
the things his teacher was saying and to kick the soccer ball with his friends at lunchtime again.
When his dad first said, “We can get another puppy,” it was the last thing Bill wanted. There
could never be another Spot. But, as time passed, he thought maybe it would be nice to have another
dog. It wouldn’t be the same, yet a puppy may be like Spot used to be. It might help fill that gap that
Bill had felt since Spot died.
At one stage his mom gave him a hug and said, “All those feelings you’ve been going through
are what we all feel when we lose someone or something close to us. I know it doesn’t feel good and
I wish I could make them disappear for you. The hurt, the sadness, and the anger are part of the ways
we adjust to losing someone we love. We pass through them, and move on to look forward. We feel
sad, then need to find what helps us feel glad again.”
Of course, Bill never forgot Spot, and I doubt he ever will. He has a picture of him above his
desk. Nonetheless, Bill learned there were still lots of things he could enjoy without a dog. For a
while he didn’t want a substitute for Spot; then, when he asked, his parents bought him a new puppy.
Since the new puppy’s coat is all the same color, Bill calls him Spotless. Now, a photograph of Spot-
less is pinned beside Spot above his desk.
STORY 53
AN ACT OF KINDNESSTherapeutic Characteristics
Problem Addressed
■ Seeing someone or something in need142 Healing Stories, Teaching Stories