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All things considered, the place looks remarkably quaint. It's a five-story building whose open-face brick walls and wide windows look remarkably homey, if perhaps a bit pricey for the modern housing market. Each unit has a balcony with a striped awning. The ground floor units have a patio instead, and Bandit's been told the ones on the inside have direct access to the garden from there. When his dad moved in to the place, almost a year ago, getting him such a luxury was at the top of Bandit's priorities. In spite of the daunting new world he had been thrust into, he had to at the very least make sure his dad would spend his sunset years in comfort.
Especially when those years look to be some of the hardest the whole family will ever face.
With the car parked and the keys in his pocket, he sags in his seat. "It's all good Bandit," he murmurs to himself. There's a part of him that wishes he brought the kids along, even if explaining where this even is would've been awkward. If there's one thing they can be counted on, it's diffusing a tense situation with their antics.
But Bandit promised himself he'd face it like a big dog. He looks down at his paws for a moment, then balls them into fists. He's had plenty of emotionally vulnerable conversations with his kids, some of them even about how he makes mistakes as a father. Surely he can handle one more, even if the roles are reversed.
Bandit takes a deep breath, and finally steps out of the car. As he walks toward the entrance he spots nurses in soft pastel scrubs milling about inside; their presence giving away the true nature of this community.
Once, while he was on a call with his brothers in the dead of night, Bingo had come downstairs after having a nightmare. Overhearing just enough to realize something had happened to her Grandpa Bob certainly didn't help Bingo's fragile state. In a panic, Bandit quickly assured her that Grandpa Bob was just "somewhere else".
Now, the time has come for Bandit to pay a visit.
With a final flourish of his pen on a logbook, the nurse at the reception—Maurice, his name tag reads—smiles at Bandit reassuringly. "Right this way Mr. Heeler."
Bandit scoffs a little. "Please, just call me Bandit. Especially in front of my dad."
Maurice's expression changes slightly. "Alright, Bandit." he says, before stepping out into the hallway and gesturing for Bandit to follow. Another nurse enters from the door to the garden and smiles in the same way when she notices the two of them.
Is that pity in their eyes? Bandit chafes at the idea. Really, this whole place is like walking down memory lane. The bright hallway, with its orange carpet and patterned wallpaper, bring back memories of holidays. Running through the hotel with Stripe's toothbrush in paw. The various doors, occasionally decorated with wreathes or good luck charms, reminds Bandit of his first days at uni. It's as if everywhere he looks is a kaleidoscope of the life that he's led.
The life his father will likely forget by the end of it all.
Maurice's scrubs are a nice pastel green—Chilli's favorite color. Bandit still remembers when they first got the news that changed so much, with so little.
"The police called." Chris rasped out, clearly having been crying for some time. "Said they found Bob wandering the boardwalk, looked confused." Bandit felt frozen in place, while his mom composed herself a little. "He wasn't hurt or anything, even though he did rough up the responding officers a little. They aren't charging him, but they did recommend he get tested for dementia."
The silence that immediately followed felt too thick to be crossed with words.
"... That explains a lot, about how he treated us as kids."
Bandit nearly dropped the tablet in shock. "Stripe!"
"What?! Irritability is one of the earliest symptoms!"
After a heated conversation that mostly involved Chris mediating her sons arguing—and asking Trixie if she knew any neurologists—Bandit left the tablet in the living room and practically ran upstairs.
"We can handle this babe." Chilli whispered while she rubbed Bandit's back. He cuddled closer in response, trying to process the sea of emotions he'd been cast in to.
After several minutes of feeling both too tired to stay awake and too nervous to fall asleep, Bandit tried to change topic. "When was the last time the kids visited your dad?"
Chilli's paws stilled. "Um, last year I think. But I want him to finish his heartworm treatments before they visit again."
Bandit nodded, which had the side effect of bonking his head on Chilli's snout. She huffed, and leaned in to kiss his forehead.
"What do we tell the kids?" Chilli said eventually, moving her paws to play with Bandit's hair.
Bandit shivered. "Nothing, yet." Despite years of success with the whole gentle parenting thing, death is still one of those topics he's been dreading to have to explain. Especially that of loved ones. And that's not to mention the complicated relationship he has with his dad.
Despite this being a minor point of contention between the two of them, Chilli didn't press the issue. "Alright," she whispered. "We can wait."
Maurice finally stops in front of a purple door and knocks. "Mr. Heeler?"
"Come in!" a voice calls from within the unit. Bandit's dad sounds as lively as ever, and the sound of metal dishes clanking about that follows suggests that he's preoccupied.
Maurice opens the door and sticks his head in. "Your son Bandit is here to see you."
"Oh!" A bit more general shuffling noises come from inside. "Let him in! Thanks Maurice."
Maurice steps away from the door and turns to Bandit. "Visiting hours are until 8. If you wanna stay overnight, you'll need to sign at the front desk again."
The mere suggestion has Bandit on edge all over again. He nods. "Thanks," and then closes the door behind him as he walks in.
It's... surprisingly similar to his parents' apartment at the Gold Coast. Beyond the small hallway separating the door from everything else, Bandit finds himself in the living room. There's a sliding door opposite him which leads to the patio. A couch is positioned on Bandit's left, facing the wall-mounted TV. To his right is a counter style dinning table, with a fairly sizable kitchen behind it.
There's the sound of a door closing, and Bob walks out of the hallway while wiping his paws with a small towel. "Bandit! Good to see ya!"
Bandit just waves awkwardly. "Hi dad."
As Bob walks over with his arms held open, Bandit freezes like a deer in the headlights. A thousand thoughts fly through his head—moments both remembered and imagined—and Bandit almost flinches when they all come crashing together with a firm hug.
Bob pats his son on the back before leaning out of the hug. "Nice of you to finally visit, Bandy. Stripe and Trix came by the other week and practically did a full audit of the place." The older dog chuckles, then turns around and pulls Bandit along. "C'mon, I've been messing with all the kitchen stuff they've got here."
Bandit somehow finds it within himself to follow his dad into the kitchen. Just behind the dining table and out of view from the hallway is a lovely island counter, its various drawers and cupboards in various states of having been riffled through. Whatever their contents were are currently sprawled across the entire counter, including—
"Hold on. Is that, a bread machine?"
Bob's smile turns playful. "You wanna give it a go together, Bandy?"
After a surprisingly short amount of time that has Bandit mentally adding a bread machine to his wish list, he and his dad decide to take a walk around the complex while the machine does all the work.
The building's front doesn't fully convey just how big the community actually is. There's another residential wing and an annex building, and inside the garden itself is a small chapel and a pond.
Lamps start to turn on all around the two heelers as the first inklings of night make themselves known to the sky. They occasionally cross paths with other residents, some are accompanied by visitors or by their caregivers. Neither Bandit nor Bob say anything for a good while on their walk, something that Bandit is definitely grateful for.
When Bob's gait shows signs of turning into a hobble, and Bandit gestures them to the nearest bench. There's a chess board built in to a small cement pillar nearby, the pieces probably stowed away.
Bob follows his line of sight, and scoffs. "What, thought us old folk would be too out of it for a game of chess?"
"What?!" Bandit near-shouts, then immediately whispers back. "No, I mean—no of course not, it's just—"
"Ah, lay off it Bandy, I'm teasing." Bob moves to sit down and Bandit offers a paw. The older dog stares at it for a beat, before taking it and allowing his weight to fall back into the bench.
Bandit sits next to his dad, only to realize at the last minute that he's sitting just a hair too close. It'd definitely be rude to scoot away now, right?
Bob, for his part, continues his line of thought. "Y'know they had this whole thing where we walked around the whole place on my first day here, get to know people as I ran into em. There're definitely some residents who can't play chess anymore. And those are just the ones who felt well enough to leave their rooms."
Bob drapes an arm around Bandit. "I'm not gonna pretend that seeing me here is anything pleasant. Heck, 's why I told your mum she didn't have to spend another Christmas visiting me alone."
Whatever Bandit was going to say catches in his throat, and he just glances away.
Bandit's mind is overflowing with all these things he wants to talk about. How his dad is feeling. How he treated his kids way back when. Updating him on his grandchildren, who haven't even seen him in two years. Where to start? How to say it in a way that won't hurt him? How to tell him that he hurt people, people who still miss him regardless?
Something inside Bandit breaks, and he starts. "Do you remember when we tried to bake something for Father's Day? Me 'n Rad were working on the oven while Stripe was watching to make sure you guys didn't get home early."
Bob tenses as he hums for several moments. "Yeah" he says, with a bemused tone. "Yeah I do. Your mum took me out clothes shopping for our dinner date."
"Do you remember when you guys got back? Stripe tried so hard to block you from walking into the kitchen, since mum heard something fall when you guys walked in."
Bob nods tentatively. Bandit keeps going. "Do you remember how I was hunched over the floor, trying to wipe away the cracked eggs while Rad kept working? Do you remember why you were suddenly so angry? Because the next thing I knew, you kicked me aside and started screaming at all of us."
"... Bandit, I—"
"Do you remember the look on my face as you shouted at a 7-year-old trying to do something nice for you? Did you even notice?" Bandit's voice starts to waver, still not looking at his dad. "I can't, how—I don't want to, it's—"
Bandit can feel the sudden lack of presence next to him, and he snaps back and hugs his dad before he can stand up. "I miss you! I'm gonna miss you so much, and yet I can't help but remember all the times you brushed me aside and didn't even notice. I can't, I—"
Bandit takes a breath, and looks up at his dad. "I don't want to ruin the time we have now, but I'm worried you won't even remember me before I talk about how you always seemed to treat me like an afterthought." Bandit wipes at his nose, "Maybe you were always gonna forget me anyway..."
Bob looks conflicted. The moment goes quiet again, save for occasional bird call, until the older dog blinks and returns the hug in full.
The two of them stay like that for a good, long while. Both of them whisper apologies and reassurances. The rest of the world fades into the background as father and son truly see each other, for the first time in years.
Bob eventually stands and guides the two of them back to his apartment. When he almost stumbled on the steps to the patio, Bandit was there to catch him. They share a look of understanding, before going inside to rest on the couch.
Whatever force compelled Bandit to confess like that seems gone now, thought the atmosphere feels lighter for having done it. While neither of them bring it up again, they're at least able to come together to make a pretty decent dinner. When Bob reaches for the carrots, Bandit gives them to him already washed and peeled. When Bandit leaves the pot on while he goes to the dunny, he returns to find Bob watching over it studiously.
The two of them are watching TV when a knock comes from the door. "Visiting hours will be over soon," a voice calls before their footsteps shuffle away.
Both dogs glance at each other. "That's me then." Bandit says, then stands and walks over to the counter.
There's a plastic tub waiting on the table, a good chunk of the bread loaf sitting inside. Bob almost made his son take the whole thing—"For Bluey and Bingo," he'd said—but Bandit convinced him to keep some as a snack.
Bob is looking over his shoulder as his son prepares to leave. "Will ya visit me again soon, Bandy?" he asks.
Bandit nods eagerly. "I'll bring Chilli and the kids next time?"
Bob's smile reaches his eyes, and for a moment he looks like he hasn't aged a day. "I'd like that."
Bandit elects not to point out that his dad's tail is making soft noises on the couch. His own is probably wagging up a storm behind him.
Maurice is at the counter again as Bandit walks over to sign out as a visitor. The nurse smiles at him, and the heeler decides to smile back.
"I hope you had a good stay here, Bandit." Maurice says while Bandit finishes writing on the logbook.
"Yeah mate, I did." Bandit says empathetically. "Thanks."
The sounds of the city surprise Bandit a little as he steps out of the building. Yet they're also comforting too, in their own way; a promise that life goes on.
When Bandit makes it back to the car and is about to put the plastic tub away, he decides to open it and tear off a little piece for himself. He tosses it in his mouth as he backs out of the parking.
It's honestly... not the best bread he's ever had. A little dense, and the crumb isn't as clean.
He wouldn't change it for the world though.