“Sometimes It’s a Dog’s Life”

The red truck pulled over slowly, and the man got out, walking toward me. I knew I needed help because I was lost and couldn’t even smell my mother anymore. But this man was different than the one I knew before. I was scared of him because he was a stranger.

He talked to me in a low voice, and I wanted to go to him. But sometimes people were mean, like the boy at home. He had kicked me, and I ran until I was lost. I certainly didn’t want to get kicked again.

Eventually the man offered some dry meat. I later learned this is called jerky. And it’s my favorite treat. The man let me have a lot of it.

I let him pick me up finally. It was cold and I was shivering a lot. It was much warmer in his truck, and I was able to sleep next to him. I slept for a long time in that truck. He calls it his Ford. I don’t really know what that means, even though I’m very smart.

A couple of hours later we stopped one time where a lady brought food to us in the truck. She also gave me a cup of water. I liked her. But I really liked that hamburger thing. I got to eat a whole lot of these later on. Hamburgers are my favorite real food, and jerky is my favorite snack.

When the man stopped his Ford, that was its name, I could tell that he was happy. Too bad he doesn’t have a tail to wag. Then everyone would know how happy he is all the time.

The lady met us outside and kissed the man. Then she picked me up and kissed me. This was my new mama. I knew she would take care of me. She was happy and wagged her stubby tail. She talked a lot, too.

The new mama carried me into their house and gave me more water. I wasn’t thirsty but drank some just to be nice to her. Sometimes you have to humor mamas. But papas are different, just in case you don’t know that.

I knew this was my new family, and I liked them. The new mama smelled good, like food. The man left the room for a long time, and I got to lay on the new mama. I fell right to sleep.

Much later, I woke up, and the new mama and papa were gone. I was scared but tough. I walked around the house, searching. I only cried a little bit. I smelled them everywhere but couldn’t find them. After a long time, and smelling under every door, I did find them. I’m smart like that.

I talked to them for a very long time, but they wouldn’t answer me at all. So, I might have yelled just a little bit. The new mama finally opened the door and picked me up. She said, “This one night only. Tomorrow, you get your own bed. Do you understand?” I’m not stupid, of course I understood. But that don’t mean I agreed.

It was so soft and warm sleeping with new mama and papa. I figured this was exactly where I belonged. And they were lucky to have me.

The new family woke me up way too early the first morning. I tried to crawl back under the blankets, but mama picked me up, saying, “First I cook the breakfast, then you get a bath. Who knows what bugs you brought to my house.” She sounded mean, but I knew she loved me because I was the baby.

The new papa let me lay on his feet under the table. Sometimes he would reach down and give me a bite of bacons. I used to call that pig-chickens, but I know better now. Like I said, I’m a genius.

New mama called me a pug dog. She’s not smart like me. Anybody could see I’ve got a flat face like any other hooman. It’s just that my thumbs are extra small. Tiny thumbs make a girl more bootiful. Little did new mama know, I would be the first doctor in the family.

New mama carried me into the bathroom. I learned that word the very same morning. If you don’t know, it’s the room they make you take a bath in. You’re really lucky if you don’t know that. It means nobody ever made you take a bath.

New mama wrapped me in a towel after the torture. I know she didn’t want to be mean to me. She just didn’t understand how bad a bath hurts a baby. But she should have when I cried.

New papa held me in the towel until I could fall asleep again. I learned that it’s a papa’s job to take care of the baby and hold it a lot. The mama has to teach the babies, though. I knew we would be a good family.

I got to go everywhere with new papa. Pretty soon he was just papa. He took me to see the cows and the goatses. We owned a lot of food. He called these other things barn cats. But I knew they were snipeses. Old mama had taught me that. And you’re supposed to hunt them snipeses. That’s what they’re made for.

Papa’s a good man, but he don’t really understand how life is supposed to be. He lets them cow-chickens get fat. I mean them cows. They’re supposed to be food. I’ve told him this a whole bunch of times.

He also don’t treat me like a princess. He wants me to catch rats and mices. But I ain’t gonna do them things. I’m gonna let mama feed me just like she does papa. I am a pretty, pretty princess. That’s what mama says, and I know she’s right.

After a month or so, mama started getting a fatter belly. I thought she might have been eating too many bacons. But, no, she said she was gonna have a baby. I wondered why she wanted another baby when she had me already. Mama talked to me a lot back then.

Mama got fatter and fatter for a long time. One day papa made me stay home and ran away with mama. They left in his truck, that he had named Ford. Papa finally came back to me late at night. He looked so tired, I licked his hand and made him feel better.

It was just me and papa for a few days. He would leave me at home during the daylight and come home in the dark. I was missing my mama. But the surprise was worth the wait.

On the third day mama came home with papa. And they had a baby for me. It was all wrinkled up and looked just like me. He was bootiful. Another baby pugdog for me to teach things to.

I still don’t know why they call babies pugdogs, but that’s okay. This was my baby and I loved him. At least I knew to call him pugdog. Mama and papa had taught me that.

Someday I could show him how to chase the snipeses and steal papa’s jerkies. I was gonna be a real good mama. I would even tell him that mices are nasty animals that we don’t talk to.

Mama helped me a lot with the baby. Sometimes papa even took care of him. Even the grandma lady and grandpa man helped us. Baby Toby sure was a handful for our little family. But I was grateful that mama brought him to me.

The baby was just like me. We liked to sleep a lot and laid on the couch together. We both liked to drink the milk. And we both wanted mama to kiss us. It was a great time to have a baby. I was so glad that mama bought him. I didn’t know where the baby place was, but I knew it had to be bootiful.

I showed him how to crawl on his belly. Then I taught him how to walk on his feets. He got a lot bigger than me. Pretty soon he wasn’t just my baby, but my bestest friend. We had so much fun together. Especially when we chased the snipeses. Or barn cats. Whatever you like to call them.

When me and the boy were three, mama got her own baby. But that didn’t bother us. We got to play together even more. Mama and papa were so tired that they let us just play all the times.

We had some really good years together. But my baby was growing up, and I was getting older. I knew I was old when the mean snipes came to me with a hurted foots. I licked it until he walked away. I knew I helped him. I was now a doctor. A doctor has to be old. So I was old.

It didn’t take long until I became a lawyer. Me and my boy were at the barn when a cow started griping about the goatses. She said they were eating all the hay up. I told her the hay was for everybody that likes grass. That was really smart. That’s how I was a lawyer, too. I’m just too smart. And my boy was lucky to have me teaching him.

I have always been the police-man on the place. I tell everybody what to do and where to go. I gripe louder than anybody else. I learned as a baby that I’m supposed to tell folks what to do. That’s why I’m a good police.

Mama and papa don’t know how fortunate they are to have me and Toby. I taught him everything he needs to know. I don’t know why they ever sent him to that school.

He was my bestest friend forever. We still sit on the couch together and watch ‘Inch High, Private Eye’. That’s my favorite cartoon.

It’s real hard for me to jump to the couch anymore. My boy’s ten years old now. Sometimes we watch them Grape Apes and Captain Kangaroos together. I sure do miss him in the daytime when he’s at school.

I sure do love mama and papa. But not like my baby boy. I’m really gonna miss you when I go to Heaven, baby boy.

“A Boy’s Life”

My name is Thomas Alan Moore, and I was born in 1965. My first memories are of a dingy, white, flat-faced little dog. My mother and father are just shadows during the early recollections. But the dog is definitely a clear image from the early years.

My parents always called her Babydog or just Baby. My first vague memory is of laying on a sofa, the pup tucked in close to me. I didn’t know it, but she was keeping me from rolling to the floor. Mom and dad joked about her lack of intelligence. I knew better, though. She saved me many times in the beginning of my life. It’s too bad she wasn’t there to guide me later on.

I watched a lot of television as a child, and Baby always sat beside me. She didn’t pay much attention to the screen until either ‘Inch High Private Eye’ or ‘Captain Kangaroo’ blessed us with their presence. She would watch those programs intently. I don’t know why, but she paid attention when they came on.

We started walking the fields and having adventures when I was about five years old. She was my constant companion. We would spend hours playing outside, roaming the property, and chasing the crazy barn cats. She loved running after those cats. At sixty years old, I still smile thinking about those stubby legs churning, with no chance of overtaking the nimble felines. The cat would climb a tree and stare down at her. She always turned and looked at me with an expression that said, “See, kid, that’s how it’s done.”

She always knew when it was lunchtime. Most days she would meander toward grandma’s house about eleven or twelve. I followed her, she didn’t follow me. Babydog would step onto the porch and start banging on the screen door with a paw, raising a reaction from grandma. Grandma always reacted the same way. She opened the door, allowing the dog to enter. She then said, “Okay, girl, it’s almost ready. Where’s that boy of yours?” We were a team back then, that dog and me. Everyone knew that if you saw one, the other was close by.

Grandma always served Baby whatever she had prepped for lunch. Baby had her own saucer that was reserved for her mid-day meal. Granny was good to my friend. She really understood the bond between a dog and her boy. Not the same as a boy and his dog. Grandma knew the difference.

After lunch we had to check in with mama. That was a strict rule, and Baby understood this better than I did. I forgot at times, but Babydog would lead me to our patio and scratch at the back door until mama came back and opened it. Mama would hug both of us and usually give us cookies. She had my younger brother to take care of, and Baby and I would continue our daily adventures.

We were at the barn one morning, and I was climbing onto a short stack of square bales. When I got to the top, I would jump off, pretending to fly. I was Superman, obviously.

Baby was stretched out, laying on her stomach, watching my feats of aerial prowess. I was climbing the pile for the fifth time when she suddenly stood, hackles raised. She began growling softly. As I got to the top, she began barking vigorously at me. I just laughed and proceeded with the endeavor.

When I landed on the ground she charged forward, growling and snapping at something close to me. I realized it was a copperhead about eighteen inches long. The baby had saved me from the snakebite but had felt the sharp fangs herself. When I was a safe distance away, she also retreated, whimpering and licking the wounds. The snake was writhing in its death throes.

I hurriedly picked up Babydog in my arms and ran toward the house. Mama was already outside when I reached the yard, having heard me yelling as I hurried home.

Mama was holding my brother, Charlie, and pacing back and forth. The veterinarian’s office seemed stuffy to me. I was worried and couldn’t stop crying. I was selfish because my concern was more for the loneliness of being without Baby. But children are often concerned with themselves. I hadn’t yet fully formed the idea that I loved this dog.

Doctor Steele’s nurse eventually appeared in the waiting room and began speaking to mama. My mother halted her and pointed to me. The very nice lady squatted in front of me and spoke, “She should be just fine in a few days. Most animals are able to get through a snakebite with just a little swelling and discomfort. The doctor wants to keep her here overnight, just to make sure she’s okay. I wouldn’t worry about her. You’ll be able to come get her tomorrow.”

That was the first night I had spent without my friend. I was eventually able to fall into a restless slumber. I awakened before daylight and dressed myself, anticipating the trip into town.

I went to the kitchen when mama started cooking breakfast. Dad joined us at the table and said he would go to pick up the dog later. I asked mom for a paper sack, the ones she sometimes put lunch in. I wrapped two slices of bacon and a sausage patty in a paper towel. I stowed this in the paper bag.

I carried the bag with me, even when I went to the barn with dad. We got water in the trough by the barn. Dad had a very old International truck we used on the ranch. I loved riding around the fields with him. Usually, Babydog was on the seat between us. I looked down at her usual resting place and clutched the paper bag tighter.

Dad drove to the far pond and stopped the truck. We got out and walked to the edge of the water. Dad liked to stare at things without talking. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

I experienced my first ‘dad talk’ that morning, and I’ve never forgotten it. He seemed old to me in 1970, but I realize now that he was only thirty. He was wise beyond his years.

After a long silence, my father spoke, “When we love someone, we do everything in our power to keep them safe. Family is a sacred investment. That little dog loves you, son. That’s why she got hurt trying to protect you. Always take care of the ones you love, son. Things, places, money, these aren’t important. If they’re lost, you can replace them. People can’t be replaced.”

Dad turned to look at me. I had never known him like this. He resumed his speech, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. It started out as protecting the ones I love. Then it just became easy. A man’s conscience can become immune to some things. And it shouldn’t. I owe my life, and one more important than me, to Mr. Mack and Uncle Carlos. Your little friend made a sacrifice to save you.”

Dad went into his silent mode again, staring at the pond. When he spoke again, it was in a lighter tone. “We’ve finally got some good fish in these ponds. I might put a little dock out there to fish off of.” He smiled as he said, “Let’s go to the house. We’ll call the vet and see if we can pick up Baby.”

Mom was feeding Charlie when we got home. Dad asked if Steele’s office had called. Mom just shook her head. He noticed my disappointment.

Dad told mom, “I’m gonna take Tom with me. I feel like getting an ice cream at the dairy freeze.” Mom understood, and said, “Bud, if you could pick them up, I have some groceries ready at Hammer’s.” Dad nodded as he donned the straw hat and ushered me to the door.

We didn’t stop at the dairy freeze. We drove all the way to the vet’s office. Dad led me to the front door of the building. When we entered, the nice lady waved at us.

After a minute, I heard Baby’s weird half-bark coming from the rear of the building. I knew she was okay.

The nurse looked exasperated when she returned. Babydog had obviously been causing an uproar. When the small gate was opened, the pug limped as fast as she could to me. She knew what was in the greasy brown paper bag. And I happily fed her.

Dad passed Hammer’s Grocery and continued to the dairy freeze. He got two big vanilla cones and a small cup of vanilla ice cream. Baby had her dessert from the cup. It was a good day. Dad turned the radio on, and we just sat in front of the drive-in and enjoyed the moment.

I started school in the fall of 1970. I could already read and write, thanks to mama. That was also when mom started teaching at the elementary school. Our lives changed that year.

Dad and Uncle Carlos built a slaughterhouse and opened a butcher shop in 1970. Mom was working. Little brother Charlie stayed with grandma and grandpa. Baby and I were on our own much of the time.

School was easy for me, and I liked being around the other kids. I hadn’t had much social interaction, other than church. It could be intimidating at times, but I mostly enjoyed school. It made me feel good to do well in the lessons.

I did miss the little pug dog during the day, though. I had never been without her my entire life until that time. But we all adjust to our situations.

The years rolled by and Baby began to age. She couldn’t run and play as much as before. She got tired before we ever reached the barn. Some days I would just pull her around in my wagon when we traveled the property.

She wasn’t able to jump onto the couch with me, and I would have to pick her up so we could watch cartoons together. She couldn’t chew the hard beef jerky anymore, either.

It was Saturday morning, and we were enjoying the cartoons. Baby licked my left hand, and I automatically began rubbing her head. She liked having the top of her head gently massaged. Land of The Lost came on, and I was mesmerized as always.

The pylon was finally repaired, and the sunset happened in the Land. I touched the little dog, but she didn’t respond. I shook her gently. There was no reaction. I began screaming for mama. I have never felt such anguish to this day.

That little dog was my best friend in this life. She warned me of dangers and redirected me when necessary. She comforted me in times of sorrow. She sometimes scolded me. That dog showed me what unconditional love for another is.

I wish she had been there to guide me away from the life I’ve led.