David had no interest in leaving his cottage on Lake Champlain for town. I hid from him how happy I was to make the trip myself. Really though, I should have been saddened he didn’t want to help choose which puppy would come home with us. I continued to mourn for Stubby, but for a long time I kept my feelings hidden. Whenever I opened up about how I felt, I could see David shut down before my very eyes. All it did was top more grief onto the grief that was already there about my dog. In some ways, it became hard to tell where the feelings were coming from, my loss of my dog or my growing despair in our relationship. I was trying everything I could to rekindle our earlier joy in one another and, with each passing day, that happiness seemed further away.
I greeted Andrea and she explained she had sequestered the boys in the house, and the two girls were in the backyard. Andrea wanted me to play with them by myself so I could make my pick without any interference from her.
I stepped into the yard. My eyes were drawn to the closest puppy, sitting quietly where the yard opened up to a large rectangle. The puppy caught my eye, wagged her tail meekly and stayed where she was. “Hello,” I murmured, reaching down slowly to pick her up. She ducked her head slightly as if to evade capture, but she wasn’t willful enough to run away. My first thought was she was Just OK. She lay quietly in my arms, enjoying my touch, but she didn’t seem all that interested in me either. I couldn’t decide if she was a just a little happy or just a little scared. Her black body was chubby and when I looked at her face, it struck me as just a little sweet. As I started to stroke Just OK, a fast motion caught my eye toward the edge of the yard…huh, I thought, pretty quick for a chipmunk. I gave the little racer my full attention.
As Just OK’s sister raced across the yard dragging a dish towel, my heart did a little leap. I gave Just OK another scratch on her neck and placed her on the ground at my feet. My eyes never left Firecracker as she turned on the dish towel. She snarled and growled, beating the towel into submission. She was very brave in the face of such a mighty opponent.
Just OK sat where I had placed her and as I moved into the yard, she lay down and chewed some spring grass. Meanwhile, in the space of thirty seconds, Firecracker had raced the dish towel back and forth along the fence line, slain the dish towel, put teeth marks in the clothesline post, knocked over the watering can, and was on her way to her first puddle foray when I called to her, “Hey.” My call suspended her five inches from the puddle. Her head spun to my voice. As I knelt to make myself inviting, she raced toward me. I braced for impact. Her legs were five inches long, but they moved so fast she almost knocked me over. She landed front feet square on my chest. Her tongue was out, raking my chin, her tail wagged furiously, and in the two seconds she stayed with me, she stared me right in the eye. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity. My heart did a little leap and then…she was gone.
She raced from me as fast as she’d arrived and I watched her attack a stick, a two-foot long branch that must have weighed five times what she did. As the stick carnage played out near the clothes line, I turned to see Just OK wag up from my feet, hello.
I sat on the ground cross-legged, put Just OK on my lap and she stayed there, possibly content or possibly not interested in contemplating another option. Together, we watched Firecracker move on from the stick to a plastic bucket. If I’d known what I was doing that day, I would have been performing aptitude tests with each puppy. The tests would have measured the puppies’ degree of social interaction, confidence, dependence, sensitivities to touch and sound, and their aptitude toward retrieving. But I had no idea what I was doing.
Just OK seemed to be somewhat fond of me, but her face was not as cute as her sibling who didn’t seem to care about me at all. I left Just OK and walked over to Firecracker and the bucket. She met me part way and I scooped her up while I had the chance. Her version of cuddling was to alternate between chewing my chin, my earring and my hair. Every few seconds she’d stop and look me right in the eye from where she was perched on my chest, pant a little to catch her breath, and then peruse which of my body parts to attack next. Twenty seconds seemed to be as long as she could stay confined in one place and, without hesitation, she flung herself backward from me and landed kerplunk on the ground. Then she was up in a flash, shook herself off, and looked around the yard. What’s next?
Her eyes widened when they landed on Just OK, lying quietly on the grass. She leaned back like a runner in the blocks and then tore at her unsuspecting sister. She seemed to have one speed, full throttle. She stopped five feet from her target, gave a little wag, and then started stalking her. Her body stiffened. She raised a leg, moved it forward an inch, put it down and repeated. She held her sister in place with her gaze.
Mesmerized by the drama, I couldn’t help but think that Just OK should get her butt moving or she was going to go the way of the dish towel, stick and bucket. Sure enough, Firecracker launched her offensive with a snarl full of sharp teeth. As she landed on Just OK, Firecracker bit her sister on the back of the neck, hard enough to elicit a squeal. She managed to shake her like the dish towel for a few seconds before releasing. She swatted her in the nose with her paw and then gave her a little head butt, which Just OK, who appeared somewhat shell-shocked by the ordeal, returned. Having attacked and made up with her sibling in the space of thirty seconds, Firecracker turned toward the clothesline, tucked her tail between her legs, lifted her little butt up in the air and zoomed around the yard.
Finally spent, she stopped and lay down to munch grass. I sat down next to her and lifted her onto my lap. More docile after her heroics had played out, she stayed with me. For the life of me, I couldn’t decide. Just OK was, well, just okay. She seemed to like me. And…she was boring. Was she really? Or was she boring compared to Firecracker? Firecracker was really cuter than Just OK, but would that matter if she never stopped moving long enough for you to look at her?
“Who wants to come home with me?” Firecracker looked up from chewing my jeans and seemed to give me a little laugh before settling back to untying my sneaker. Just OK slept on in the grass.
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