by Noel Mcgivern

Created on: May 16, 2009   Last Updated: May 18, 2009

For the first time he had ever known, Dan's mother told him and his sister to be quiet because a pop song was on the radio. She wanted to listen to Terry Jacks singing "Seasons in the Sun." Looking back Dan copuld see why he, as a twelve year old boy, did not see the clue in his mother's unusual response. Normally she had dismissed pop music as a dreadful noise.

Had Dan considered his mother's motivation, the conclusion would have been unthinkable. He could not have possibly have allowed himself to imagine it. He could not even have imagined it when his mother went into hospital, or even when he learned the uncomfortable fact that she had had a breast removed.

There were other things happening that spring. Somehow, the potential risk of his border collie', Molly's gender, had been overlooked. The truth was his parents had much graver matters on their minds. At eleven months old, around the time when the boy's mother was in hospital, Molly went into heat. The garden walls and fences were secured and they did manage to stop Molly from leaving the garden. What had not been calculated on was how keen male dogs would be to get at her.

A black Labrador managed to get into the garden. Looking from the dining room window, the Dan saw the Labrador attempting to mount Molly. He rushed out shouting, but the dog was aggressive, baring his teeth and growling. The boy decided to retreat. His convalescing mother, now aware of what was happening, told him to fill a bucket with water and throw it over the dogs.

By the time Dan got back to the dogs the Labrador had entered Molly. He flung the bucket of water, with all the force he could muster. The Labrador moved. At first the boy thought he had been successful but then he realized that both dogs were now standing back to back but still attached. There was nothing he could do.

A few weeks later it became obvious that Molly was pregnant. The idea of the puppies excited Dan. He lay awake at night, thinking about it. It was about midnight on a warm June night when he overheard his mother talking to his aunt on the phone.

"The consultant says I've got about five years," his mother was saying.

There was no mistaking what she meant. The boy wept silent, shocked tears. He felt that he could tell no one what he had heard.

In the morning, the day seemed normal; the early summer sunlight warmed the kitchen; nothing seemed out of place. His mother was not behaving in the way he expected a dying person to behave. He

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