A quote: “No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversation as the dog does.” ~~ Christopher Morley
I’ll start with a story …
****************************
Dad hated dogs. He said so each time we would try to approach the latest box of “free puppies” outside the grocery store.
“Dogs are destructive, smelly and they poop,” dad would lecture while grabbing our hands and pulling us into the store.
We grew up. I ended up with cats while brother cultivated a passion for aquariums.
Mom passed and one day, visiting dad, a scruffy puppy peered out from behind his chair.
“Stray,” dad grumbled, “Gonna take him to the pound tomorrow.”
Years passed without that tomorrow. Then, I took Scruff home.
We now visit dad’s grave together.
****************************
Now, it’s your turn.
.
.
.
.
.
.
. featured image, cropped, Adobe stock, standard license.
Cameron says: Lost my job, the divorce was vicious and I had nothing but my car and some clothes. I got out at the rest stop and felt despair at my life.
I saw motion behind me. Dammit. Forgot to close the door and now someone is trying to steal from me. I looked back and saw the puppy. I’m the only one in the parking lot, she has no collar and is giving me a hopeful look.
So maybe things can get better. “You’re not driving. And I’m leaving this state.” She yapped in agreement and jumped into the passenger seat.
I grew up on a farm, so we always had dogs. But the one I always remember is the first one we ever had. Dad decided we ought to have a dog on the farm, so he took me to the Humane Society shelter and we picked out this little black spaniel mix and took her home with us.
That whole summer I played with that dog. But what I remember is when we got the news that my grandmother had passed away. I was still numb with shock all the way home, but right after I got out of the car it really hit me: Grandma’s gone. That was when our dog ran up to me, and i just buried my face in her fur and cried until I ran out of tears.
Don’t ask me how, but that dog knew that I needed to grieve, and she just held still and let me cry as long as I needed to. I wish we could’ve kept her, but when she had puppies, my folks decided we couldn’t afford to keep them all, and didn’t want to keep having to find homes for more puppies. So we picked one of the boy puppies to keep and took all the rest to the Humane Society.
Dupin says: What is this place? What are those strange smells? Noises? Where’s my crate?
They lift me from the car and down onto dirt and grass. Lots of grass that isn’t peed on everywhere. The human puppy puts a collar and leash on me and let me walk…all over. I find lots of places to mark. Then food and back out.
The alpha male and his boy play with me and want me to do things. I try to understand. I sit to their specific sound and they are happy, so I’m happy. They shake my paw.
I think I’m home.
Navig8r says: You humans take so long to get ready to do anything, running in circles, putting things in bags and boxes, putting bags and boxes in the car, arguing, yelling, blaming each other for forgetting things . Look at me. I’m ready. I’m in the car. No hassle, just get in the car and I’m ready. And no, I’m not getting out. I heard that distinctive sound of shotgun shells rattling together when you pulled that box out of the drawer. In case you didn’t know it, there are some scent clues as well. You’re not going bird hunting without me.
Dupin says: Love it!
Cameron says: I wondered where you were.
Donald Kotowski says: I have read your scruffy puppy story a number of times now. It touches me to the core.
I have three dogs. I am getting along in years.
I hope they smell my ashes when they go walking in the desert with my son and know that I am near.
7 Comments