Mackenzie's Goodbye

It was the last day of Mackenzie’s life.

No one else knew that, of course. Not the wind that rustled the leaves above, nor the empty roundabout that creaked in the background. Not the seesaw, sun-warmed and motionless. But Mackenzie knew. His body had grown slower, his eyes dimmer, his heart heavier—but there was one more thing he needed to do. One more goodbye to the place that had once echoed with his laughter and the shouts of friends running wild through the grass.

So he went to the playground one last time. Alone.

He tried everything, even if just for a moment. He nudged the roundabout into motion with his paw, climbed the steps of the slide slowly but surely, giggling under his breath as he sat at the top. He went down slowly, landing with a soft thud. Then, finally, he made his way to the swing—the same swing where he’d once sat after school, chatting with Bluey and Rusty, dreaming of adventures.

And there he stayed. The chains creaked gently as he swayed, the breeze brushing through his fur.

And that’s where they found him.

The next morning, his grandpups ran ahead to the playground like they always did. They were the ones who saw him first. At first, they thought he was asleep. It wasn’t until their mum caught up, calling his name and dropping to her knees beside him, that the truth began to settle like fog around them.

Tears came—confused, frightened sobs from little ones who’d just lost their grandfather. But the loudest cries came from their mum, Mackenzie’s daughter, who held his still paw and whispered his name over and over, like maybe he’d wake up if she just said it enough times.

She buried him near his favourite tree—the one he always pointed out on their walks, the one that turned the brightest gold in autumn. The pups helped, their small paws brushing earth over his resting place. Their tears were quiet now. Confused. Reverent.

And when they stood back, they all stared up at that tree together. No one spoke.

There’s a hole in the world when someone good leaves it. Mackenzie was one of the good ones.

Even though he’s gone, I imagine the playground remembers him. Every creak of the swing, every clatter of paws on the slide, every giggle that rings through the air—echoes of a dog who never stopped being a pup at heart.

And somewhere, under the shade of that golden tree, he rests in peace.