The ground was just too hard.
His first strike against the earth scraped away the dry grass at the edge of the woods, but it didn't come close to breaking the dirt. By the time the tip of his shovel crashed down on the dry ground, he'd already given up on the spot.
He stood there looking across the edge of the woods, slowly exhaling.
He wondered how it had gotten to this point. He wondered to himself how he ended up holding a shovel in the woods at 7:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. He wondered about a lot of things, but he knew he didn't have time to think. He had to get moving.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a warm, spring day on the front porch of the house on the corner of West Rhoten and N. Sizer in Jefferson City, Tennessee. Cars were parked along the side of the large yellow house, and Semisonic's "Closing Time" was playing loudly from the open windows. Cars drove by often, and more times than not they would blow their horns and random screams would explode across the porch. The roommates would scream back, and they'd all sip their cold beers and laugh about their new home and the freedom they'd all wanted for so long. It was the first time they'd all moved out on their own... it was the first time they tasted independence. It was the beginning of an era for them.
And then she came along.
Without warning, the squeaky, blurry window-covered door was thrown open and one of the roommates calmly walked in with her. She was absolutely beautiful and extremely goofy at the same time. It came as a shock that she was moving in with them, nobody ever expected her to come walking in like she owned the place. But that's what she did.
She was extremely excited to finally move into her new home. She looked around the room to size everyone up... taking in her first impressions and deciding almost immediately who she'd want to learn more about. She made her way around the house; one of the roommates was more than happy to give her the grand tour. Every bit of the way she smiled. Her excitement never seemed to end. Of all the roommates, she seemed to be the most excited about the place.
One of the roommates felt nervous about her living there, and they wondered about the complications and comfort of being one of four guys living in a house with only one girl. It seemed to be a bit awkward. She didn't mind, though. She only smiled at them and made herself at home on the couch. She watched TV and would look out the window at the passing cars and would smile at the random shouts. Sometimes she'd shout right back at them. This is the place where she would be living. In the Yellow House in Jefferson City.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Looking past the edge of the woods he spotted his dad's barn. It was built from sturdy wood, bound together with old brown tin and sheets of sharp metal. He knew there might be something in there to help with this problem, and he walked through the dew-covered grass to see for himself.
His dad's tractor was parked just inside. The large front-end loader on the front looked promising... the large bucket would be the perfect solution for getting into the dry ground. Brushing off some hay dust from the seat, he saw the key peeking out from behind the steering column. With a turn, the tractor roared to life, and he slowly pulled it out of the barn.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It had been almost a year since the new roommates had settled into the yellow house in Jefferson City. They each had their rooms decorated, the bar was set up in the dining room, the bathroom and kitchen had been painted dark red and a giant map of Mexico was crudely painted on the bathroom wall. She was still there on the couch as always with him, watching TV, sipping on a bottle of warm goldschlager and feeling a good buzz at 10:00 am on a lazy Saturday morning.
The roommates would come home and criticize them both for never going out, for being lazy or for not helping with her share of the house duties. She took a lot of pleasure in looking at them with a smile—not understanding the urgency of these kinds of things. Why should she bother with picking up the living room when it's a Saturday? Why bother with house work when there's a warm summer breeze blowing through the window, MTV2 was showing an all-day marathon of Guns 'N Roses videos and there was a bottle of goldschlager to sip on?
He was sitting next to her on the couch and they swapped the bottle between them. Of all the other roommates, she was closest to him. He was the one who noticed all of her quirky attributes and appreciated her big goofy smile on a Saturday morning. It didn't take long at all for them to become close friends. After all, he loved Guns 'N Roses videos too. They sat there on the couch together and laughed while Slash's November Rain solo sounded out the window to the cars passing by outside.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The tractor left wide tire marks across the dew-covered grass as he drove it back towards the woods. He was running short on time, and needed desperately to get the job done. Finally coming to the spot he'd found before, he pulled down the levers of the tractor to bend the swing-arm of the front-end loader and lower down the bucket to scrape away the hard ground. The bucket tipped slowly to make it's mark... but suddenly a loud sound creeped out from the edge of the bucket, like a pouring waterfall against hard rocks. He raised up from the tractor's seat and looked across the bucket, just in time to see the last of his dad's cattle feed spilling out across the hard ground on the edge of the tall trees. His dad had been storing the grain feed in the bucket of the front-end loader, and without ever noticing it in there, he'd dumped weeks worth of feed onto the damp ground.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The night of the second yellow house keg party was an exciting time. More than 100 college students were taking in massive amounts of cold Bud Light from the ice-covered keg in the dining room, staggering around in a laughter-induced trance. The roommates had been there for more than a year and a half, and the popularity of their house had reached across the entire city. It had become an infamous place to stop by and enjoy a beer.
He navigated his way through the crowd, scanning every room for her, but she was nowhere in sight. Her room was empty—instead full of rowdy fraternity guys sneaking a late-night toke from a poorly-rolled joint. He asked around if anybody had seen her, but no one noticed. Becoming increasingly worried, he walked outside to double check that she hadn't left. Looking down, he saw her sitting on the edge of the back porch, head down and miserable. She'd drank too much, overestimating her tolerance, and the beer had gotten the best of her. Sick as a dog, she laid her head back against the cold concrete in shame—embarrassed and all alone.
He sat down beside her and rubbed her back, telling her that everything would be okay. She looked up at him with loving eyes and started to smile. That night he would stay with her the entire time, sitting on the back porch with his friend. He'd never leave her side, and she felt better just having him there.
Together they watched the crowd. They watched the dizzy girls falling around the kitchen, the screaming wrestling team pushing each other around, the quiet hippies sneaking around with their weed and the other roommates enjoying their company. They even watched as one of their roommates met a girl, and they watched him fall in love right there on the spot. It all came together in slow motion, a constant blur of faces, bodies and laughs. Together they witnessed these moments. Together, they saw it all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Scoop by scoop, he shoveled the feed back into the bucket of the tractor. He knew he'd wasted more time, but there was nothing he could do at this point. He'd caused the accident and he had to clean it up. His hands became dusty and tired as he abandoned his shovel and started to move the mountain of feed by hand. Scoop after scoop, he did the best job he could. He could see the sun shining brightly across the grass, and he knew he still had to act quickly.
When the last pile of feed was thrown back into the bucket, he decided there was just no way he could use the tractor. It was a lost cause for him, so he quickly drove it back to the barn while thinking of his next course of action.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Six years had past since the roommates had come together in the big yellow house. Some had moved on, others had moved in. Amongst all of the rotating tenants, the two of them stayed together. Their friendship was long lasting, and they grew so close that it would have been almost awkward to see one without seeing the other. Some nights she'd tip-toe across the living room and make her way into his room, where she'd pile up on his large bed and sleep soundly. She always slept better with him in the room. She felt safer and protected there. Sometimes she'd snore, but he'd give her a sharp nudge and she knew to stop.
Since his job was in Knoxville, and Knoxville was more than 40 minutes away, he began his search for a house. Renting for such a long time had been hard on his wallet, and he figured the best way to make an investment was to buy a house closer to his work. He felt sad about leaving the big yellow house in Jefferson City, but he knew that moving on was something he needed to do. He had outgrown those college years of the huge parties, the screaming cars and even the Guns 'N Roses marathons.
But he'd never outgrow her.
He didn't think twice about asking her to move in with him. After he found himself a nice home in North Knoxville, she packed her stuff and moved with him. Together, they stood on the front porch of their home for six years and said their goodbyes. In a house with so much history, with so much character and personality, a strong friendship was started. Together, they'd seen it all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alone and tired, he trudged through the thick woods searching for the right place. He had remembered it in his mind, but now the woods seemed different and grown. It didn't matter, though, he knew the way. He made his way down to the edge of his dad's old pond, and stopped for a minute to remember years back when he'd fish here. He remembered getting his hook tangled up in the thick trees when he made his casts. He remembered the sound of frogs chirping as they dove into the pond when he got close. He remembered the green algae and the old sunken tree limbs. This was the spot he'd been looking for.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Early Wednesday morning, he woke up with a bad feeling. Looking around the house, she was nowhere to be seen. Walking out on his back porch, he saw her laying there, collapsed and alone at 5:30 a.m. She'd been feeling sick for the past several days, but they both discounted it as being a bad hangover or a long-lasting cold. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was nothing at all... something in her head.
He didn't hesitate to pick her up and help her to his truck. She was breathing slow, and there was a distant look in her eyes. She never spoke a word.
He was pressing his foot against the gas pedal harder than he had in a long time. Weaving in and out of traffic, scrambling to get her help as fast as he could. She was breathing slowly in the passenger's seat... her arms and legs drawn in like she was freezing cold, pushing herself further and further into the seat. He was scared, but diligent. He drove faster.
Minutes away from the doctor, she began to cough. With the coughs came jerks and sudden twitches. She began breathing harder and harder, as if fighting off a terrible panic attack. He reached across the seat and rubbed her leg, but her sudden jerks prevented him from comforting her. Pulling into the parking lot, he could see the sign and he could see the building. They'd made it. Her twitches had begun to calm down and he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked over at her lying there, and noticed her chest heaving in and out. In and out. Slowing down. In and out. He watched it slow down. Slow down even more. Slow down even more.
His truck pulled up to the door. He was prepared to jump out and get her to help. His foot was halfway on the pavement when he turned his head... and she had stopped breathing. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she was gone from him. She had slowly slipped away.
He was too late.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He stood in one of the most memorable places of his youth. The slow trickle of the pond water slid down the bank, and in this place full of so many wonderful memories would be where he would start to dig.
The ground was much softer here in the shade, the tall oaks and maple trees covered the down-pouring sunshine, letting only a few shards of light fall on the downtrodden leaves and shrubs. The shovel moved up and down quickly with no breaks. The pile of soft earth grew with each stroke until finally his job was done.
It was here that Jared McClane carried his best friend of nearly 10 years through the woods. He carried her in his arms as he went, every step carefully planned. She wasn't very heavy, and he held her tight as he crossed by his dad's algae-covered pond. He carried her down the bank, and noticed as the small pieces of light from the sun shone through the trees and reflected off her face.
He laid her softly into the place that he had dug, and he looked down at her one last time before saying his final goodbye.
Willis was the Yellow House dog. She was loved by every single person that came through those doors. The wrestlers, the hippies... the cheerleaders and the football players. The young high school kids sneaking in to get a sip of beer and the college art students sitting around and listening to Bob Dylan songs. The endless couples making out on the couch. The fighting couples yelling at each other in the back yard. The country boys. The girls from Wisconsin. The strangers, the party crashers and the close, close friends who called that place home. Jared and Willis saw it all.
Together, they saw it all.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jared McClane walked the distance of those woods alone, more than two hours late for work. He would tell me later that he wished he could have buried her in a better place. He would joke and say the he wished he could have snuck over to the Yellow House in Jefferson City late one night and lay her down to rest in the place where she loved the most. He wished he could have buried her at the edge of those woods in a special place. But he couldn't do that. He had to do what he had to do.
The ground was just too hard.
This true story was for Jared McClane and for Willis. She was a wonderful, life-long friend to us all, and she will be missed so much.
Willis, the Yellow House Dog
April 1, 1998 to October 3, 2007
