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stoutfellowI don't know what prompted the memory, but yesterday I found myself thinking of Luke. Luke was one of the family dogs in my childhood - well, my early to mid teens, I guess. His ancestry, we never learned; he was long-legged, a galoot of a dog, very strong, not too bright, patient yet firm with obstreperous younger dogs. He also played a role in binding together what was to be our extended family; one of my brothers-in-law-to-be used to roughhouse with him, and called him a raucous animal, while another won over my previously-dubious father by his quick, selfless, and successful action the day Luke was hit by a car.
But the story I want to tell is years earlier than that, when Luke was still a rotund puppy. (The incident I'm about to recount may not have happened; I remember it vividly, but no one else in the family seems to. It may be a fabulation, but after thirty-plus years, who can say?) In his puppyhood, Luke was a digger, and there was one spot in the front yard he especially favored. He would dig his hole; one of us - my mother, I would guess, most often - would fill it in; he would return, and the cycle would repeat. Finally, my mother tired of the game, and went out and bought a spray-can of dog repellant. She refilled the hole, then sprayed the entire area liberally with the contents of the can. We then retired to watch. Soon enough, Luke came ambling over. He caught a whiff of the repellant and shied back; then, determinedly, squeezed his eyes shut, cranked his head around to avoid the stench... advanced, and resumed digging.
I swear I remember this.
But the story I want to tell is years earlier than that, when Luke was still a rotund puppy. (The incident I'm about to recount may not have happened; I remember it vividly, but no one else in the family seems to. It may be a fabulation, but after thirty-plus years, who can say?) In his puppyhood, Luke was a digger, and there was one spot in the front yard he especially favored. He would dig his hole; one of us - my mother, I would guess, most often - would fill it in; he would return, and the cycle would repeat. Finally, my mother tired of the game, and went out and bought a spray-can of dog repellant. She refilled the hole, then sprayed the entire area liberally with the contents of the can. We then retired to watch. Soon enough, Luke came ambling over. He caught a whiff of the repellant and shied back; then, determinedly, squeezed his eyes shut, cranked his head around to avoid the stench... advanced, and resumed digging.
I swear I remember this.
