And then she told me she didn’t think she had any more stories in her. I told her I didn’t believe her, but she insisted that, rack her brains as she might, she couldn’t think of anything she hadn’t already told me.
We went back to the crossword, both a little depressed.
Me, befuddled: What’s a 7-letter word for a “cream-coloured dog?”
Ruby, in the blink of an eye: Samoyed.
Me: How the heck do you know that?!
I had one. We called her Sanya. She just showed up on the doorstep one night. She was one big mess. She sure wasn’t cream-coloured that night, let me tell you.
Me: See?! There’s a story right there!
Bah! About a dirty ol’ stray dog? No, she wasn’t much. Well, I guess she was a good dog, alright; I sure thought a lot of her, I guess. You wouldn’t believe the life of that dog! One day she got into antifreeze in the garage and darn near poisoned herself to death. That was the only time I took a dog to the vet, I thought that much of her.
She couldn’t even stand up, and we had to carry her to the car. All the way there, I figured we was bringing a dead dog to the doctor. She hung on, though; cost us a fortune in room and board while they fixed her up. Finally, we took her home on account of she didn’t seem to be getting any better, and the vet said there was no point in having her spayed, because even if she came around, she’d never have puppies anyway, on account of what that antifreeze did to her…
Anyway, when we got her home, we hefted her up on the couch and the next day she ate a little, and got herself back up on the couch. Day after that, she ate a lot more and got herself up and down. One more day, and you’d never know she’d been sick.
After that, she got real nice, always wanting to hang around at my feet, and snuggly-like. She’d spend her days out in the yard, tied to her dog house, and come in and sit with me in the evenings. She was a right nice dog, Sanya was.
One day though, I looked out the kitchen window, and there that dog was, sittin’ out in the pouring rain! Wouldn’t go in her house to save her skin. I thought, ‘Now what’s got into that stupid dog?’, and I went out to find out. She wouldn’t go in that dog house no way, no how. She just sat there in the pouring rain, crying.
Finally, I figured there must be something in her house, so I stuck my head in and you wouldn’t believe what was in there!
The dog house was in a little dip in the yard, and the rain had all seeped in and made a great big puddle… and there in the puddle was five puppies. Drowned.
Well!
I felt about as miserable as poor ol’ Sanya looked, let me tell you, and she looked as miserable as a wet dog can. That’s pretty miserable. I got her into the house and dried her all off. She just looked depressed, I tell you, and I felt guilty as sin. I let her up on my bed, that’s how guilty I felt.
She stayed in there for the rest of the day, and when she didn’t come out for her supper, I got some nervous. When I went to check on her, I was sure she was dead. She wasn’t though. She was nursing a puppy!
That was a cute little pup, but I didn’t want two dogs, so I found a good home for the little one when the time came. Sanya didn’t like that, I don’t think. She started breaking her chain and taking off. Every time she’d come home, she’d have a face full of porcupine quills.
You ever have to take the quills out of a dog’s face? Nasty job. Hard on the dog, too. You’d think she’d have learned, but nope. Two days later, she’d be gone again, and come back with another face full.
Finally, we decided to put her down. She just wouldn’t learn. There was some happy porcupines after that, I’ll bet.
Anyway… Sanya was a cream-coloured Samoyed. Write that down.
