boy vs. dog
One Christmas, Jed asked Santa for a puppy. So, despite Jed's mama's concerns, Santa brought Jedidiah a very cute, very tiny black lab mix pup. She was named Della, after the character in O. Henri's "Gift of the Magi." Jed loved the little puppy, so tiny that he could hold her in both hands, and his parents thought, "How wonderful this is! Evey boy needs a dog!"
As Della grew she got more bold. She truly loved the boy, and couldn't figure out if he was really a puppy or she was really a human. Either way, playing with Jed meant chewing, biting, jumping, and wrestling. Jed loved the attention and encouraged such play, despite the warnings from his parents that he may want to teach her to play more gently. If the puppy was sleeping, the boy would sneak up and tickle her and get her wound up, enjoying the mischief and a partner in crime.
But the puppy continued to grow, and one day when she want to chew on the boy, her teeth had gotten sharper and her mouth had gotten stronger. Instead of laughing, the boy screamed and cried. As he ran to his parents to show them the teeth marks and the blood, he said meanly, "I hate Della. She bit me on purpose." Della ran following the boy, of course, as she always did. She was confused as to why he lashed out at her and yelled in a mean voice. She turned her head sideways, thinking a different angle might make more sense of the situation, but the boy was still grumpy. So the puppy went back into the other room, grabbed her stuffed octopus and chewed until she fell asleep.
When she woke up the boy was on the couch watching tv. She went and curled up by him as she always did. He put his arm around her and they were happy.
Over time their relationship established some patterns. The boy had a temper, and despite the fact that he often started the rough-housing, he would often get grumpy when the play got too rough. His parents fussed at him, and suggested he learn different ways to play with the puppy, but it always came back to wrestling and chewing. Once he even bit her on her leg to show her how it felt. She didn't seem to mind that much. She knew he loved her.
Then one day the battle got serious. The end of the couch, close to the window, was the most comfortable spot in the living room. The boy loved to sit there and watch television, or play Wii. The puppy liked to sleep there, with her head resting on the arm. Sometime she would lie there and observe everyone else. It was a comfortable place. One Saturday morning the boy got up to watch cartoons and the dog was in the spot. He pushed her out of the spot and sat down. Della sat on the floor momentarily and seemed to realize what had happened. Because she saw herself on equal footing with the boy, the injustice of it all rubbed her the wrong way. She crouched, and then she pounced, biting the boy on his arm and leg and making grouchy puppy sounds down in her throat. The boy fought back, pushing and fussing, when suddenly he yelped as he was bitten. He looked down and saw a puppy tooth stuck in the fabric of his shirt! He jumped up to show his parents, and the puppy settled down into the corner of the couch. Victory deserved a nap.
After examination and discussion of the tooth, the boy went back to the living room to find his spot had once again been occupied. And so round two of the battle commenced, with the boy once again victorious. After this she tried a stealth approach, sneaking up and resting her head on his leg, then resting her open mouth on his foot, and then starting the chewing. Each round resulted in shouting from the boy, growling from the puppy, and general chaos in the room, but each time the boy retained the prime spot and the puppy was left to find another roost. She considered snuggling the boy from the other side, but her dignity was damaged. She lay on the floor and planned her revenge as she began to nap. The boy laughed as he watched her feet twitching and running in her sleep. Eventually she gave up, and climbed up next to him to finish her nap. He put his arm across her back and rubbed her tummy absentmindedly. And life was good.
Jed's parents loved to watch the boy and his dog. And life was good.
As Della grew she got more bold. She truly loved the boy, and couldn't figure out if he was really a puppy or she was really a human. Either way, playing with Jed meant chewing, biting, jumping, and wrestling. Jed loved the attention and encouraged such play, despite the warnings from his parents that he may want to teach her to play more gently. If the puppy was sleeping, the boy would sneak up and tickle her and get her wound up, enjoying the mischief and a partner in crime.
But the puppy continued to grow, and one day when she want to chew on the boy, her teeth had gotten sharper and her mouth had gotten stronger. Instead of laughing, the boy screamed and cried. As he ran to his parents to show them the teeth marks and the blood, he said meanly, "I hate Della. She bit me on purpose." Della ran following the boy, of course, as she always did. She was confused as to why he lashed out at her and yelled in a mean voice. She turned her head sideways, thinking a different angle might make more sense of the situation, but the boy was still grumpy. So the puppy went back into the other room, grabbed her stuffed octopus and chewed until she fell asleep.
When she woke up the boy was on the couch watching tv. She went and curled up by him as she always did. He put his arm around her and they were happy.
Over time their relationship established some patterns. The boy had a temper, and despite the fact that he often started the rough-housing, he would often get grumpy when the play got too rough. His parents fussed at him, and suggested he learn different ways to play with the puppy, but it always came back to wrestling and chewing. Once he even bit her on her leg to show her how it felt. She didn't seem to mind that much. She knew he loved her.
Then one day the battle got serious. The end of the couch, close to the window, was the most comfortable spot in the living room. The boy loved to sit there and watch television, or play Wii. The puppy liked to sleep there, with her head resting on the arm. Sometime she would lie there and observe everyone else. It was a comfortable place. One Saturday morning the boy got up to watch cartoons and the dog was in the spot. He pushed her out of the spot and sat down. Della sat on the floor momentarily and seemed to realize what had happened. Because she saw herself on equal footing with the boy, the injustice of it all rubbed her the wrong way. She crouched, and then she pounced, biting the boy on his arm and leg and making grouchy puppy sounds down in her throat. The boy fought back, pushing and fussing, when suddenly he yelped as he was bitten. He looked down and saw a puppy tooth stuck in the fabric of his shirt! He jumped up to show his parents, and the puppy settled down into the corner of the couch. Victory deserved a nap.
After examination and discussion of the tooth, the boy went back to the living room to find his spot had once again been occupied. And so round two of the battle commenced, with the boy once again victorious. After this she tried a stealth approach, sneaking up and resting her head on his leg, then resting her open mouth on his foot, and then starting the chewing. Each round resulted in shouting from the boy, growling from the puppy, and general chaos in the room, but each time the boy retained the prime spot and the puppy was left to find another roost. She considered snuggling the boy from the other side, but her dignity was damaged. She lay on the floor and planned her revenge as she began to nap. The boy laughed as he watched her feet twitching and running in her sleep. Eventually she gave up, and climbed up next to him to finish her nap. He put his arm across her back and rubbed her tummy absentmindedly. And life was good.
Jed's parents loved to watch the boy and his dog. And life was good.
Comments
Robert Wrigley
She's twelve and she's asking the dog,
who does, but who speaks
in tongues, whose feints and gyrations
are themselves parts of speech.
They're on the back porch
and I don't really mean to be taking this in
but once I've heard I can't stop listening. Again
and again she asks, and the good dog
sits and wiggles, leaps and licks.
Imagine never asking. Imagine why:
so sure you wouldn't dare, or couldn't care
less. I wonder if the dog's guileless brown eyes
can lie, if the perfect canine lack of abstractions
might not be a bit like the picture books
she "read" as a child, before her parents' lips
shaped the daily miracle of speech
and kisses, and the words were not lead
and weighed only air, and did not mean
so meanly. "Do you love me?" she says
and says, until the dog, sensing perhaps
its own awful speechlessness, tries to bolt,
but she holds it by the collar and will not
let go, until, having come closer,
I hear the rest of it. I hear it all.
She's got the dog's furry jowls in her hands,
she's speaking precisely
into its laid back, quivering ears:
"Say it," she hisses, "Say it to me."