A Dog Tale

This little story is for my young friend Stephanie Pugh.

Steph recently lost a dog. I've lost a couple in the last few years. If you haven't loved and lost, you won't understand the way we grieve for an animal. And if you haven't loved at least one dog in your life--well, that's just sad. You've missed one of the great pleasures of life.

This story sounds like fiction, but it's not. I don't write much fiction, because I'm not smart enough. Besides, there are enough real stories around if you pay attention.

When I was very young, my mother's aunt and uncle lived in the country near Bessemer, Alabama. We would visit them on occasion, taking my grandmother (who couldn't drive a car) to visit her sister.

Uncle Lewis had an English Bulldog named "Tubby." He was getting old and grumpy by the time we first met, and I was warned not to pet him because he "didn't like children" and might bite. That was tough for a five-year-old kid. He looked like a big sack of slobbering sunshine.

The interesting thing about old Tubby was his daily routine.

Tubby's favorite treat was salted peanuts. He liked to have a small bag as a mid-afternoon snack. Uncle Lewis had taught him a unique way to get them.

There was a little country store not too far down the road. Every day about two o'clock, Tubby would begin to beg for his treat. Uncle Lewis would reach into his pocket, take out a dollar and give it to Tubby. He'd hold the bill in his mouth and go to the door to be let out.

Tubby made the trek to the store (where the owner was waiting), hand over the dollar, and receive his precious bag of salted peanuts. He then made the trek back home, bag in mouth, and scratch on the door to be let back in the house. He'd give the bag to my Uncle Lewis, who opened them and rewarded the bulldog for his savvy.

Too bad we didn't have YouTube back then. You wouldn't be able to say I made this up.