ISSUE 1 - November 2006
"Unplanned" by Diane Payne
Like so many pregnancies, the dogs that came after Buster were not planned. They just happened. First came Old Dog. He was just there, sleeping in the front yard, as if that had always been his home. Mary ran ads in the paper and on the radio hoping she’d find the owner, but no one came to claim him.
Eventually she quit running the ads, and Old Dog and Mary simply settled into their routine. Every morning they took a long walk, and after they returned, Old Dog walked to his favorite place in the yard and slept for hours. After a while, he fattened up, his hair grew thicker, and Mary thought he deserved a better name, but he seemed to like his new name, so she never changed it. The very first night at Mary’s, Old Dog started sleeping on the rug beside Mary’s bed, and at first his deep, sporadic breathing kept her awake, but after growing accustomed to his nocturnal snorings and wheezings, she started waking up when she didn’t hear him breathing.
The first night she didn’t hear him breathing, Mary turned on the lamp and woke him up. "Keep breathing, Old Dog. This is why I don’t have dogs. I dread the day I’ll have to bury you."
Mary had heard about the new young vet in town and made an appointment for Old Dog to have his vaccinations. Not only was Suzie young, but also she was gorgeous. It was no wonder the men were lining up to bring their pets to see her.
"I’m Suzie. This must be," she looked at her chart and said, "Old Dog."
"I haven’t come up with a better name," Mary explained. "And I’m Mary,
Old Mary," she joked.
Suzie laughed at her joke. "He’s not really that old, and neither are you, but he has definitely experienced some hard times. Looks like he was chained up for a long time. These scabs on his neck will heal. This dog probably broke loose from a chain and just took off running one day."
"When I found him, it looked like he had been in my yard for years."
"I doubt he was there that long. But, he’ll probably be in your yards for years to come, fattening up by the day. You should know, he’s never been neutered."
"Does he still need to be? I mean, is he still interested in females?"
"Mary, think about old men."
Mary laughed. "You’re right."
I’d guess this dog is about eight and if he came across a dog in heat, well, he’d act a whole lot younger."
"How much does it cost to get him neutered?"
"He’s a big dog. Looks like he’s part lab. Seems like most of the strays around here are part lab. It’ll cost one hundred dollars."
"Ouch! Dog, why did you pick my yard? I don’t have the money right now. I’m a weaver. Would you be interested in a trade?"
"You mean a rug for the neutering?"
"Not exactly a rug, but a wall hanging. Something equivalent to the price of the neuter. I have enough cash to pay for his vaccinations."
"I just moved into a new house. I’m up for a trade. Want to get him neutered Thursday?"
"What a relief! I’ll bring a few hangings in when we come, so you can pick your favorite. I hope you like something. I really appreciate it."
"No problem, Mary. I’m sure I’m getting the better part of the deal. My house is in dire need of artwork."
"Old Dog is probably getting the best part of the deal, but he won’t look at it that way," Mary said petting him.
Old Dog loved hanging his head out of the passenger side window of Mary’s old Mazda truck. "You won’t be looking so perky Thursday," Mary warned him.
Mary spent a lot of time on the road, traveling to different cities doing art shows. She wondered what she’d do with Old Dog. "Thirty-nine years and I’ve never been tied down, Old Dog. What am I going to do with you? I need to earn a living. I hope you are a good traveler." Old Dog hung his head out the window while Mary continued talking. "It’s a good thing you’re sitting there or someone would think I’m talking to myself."
Several months after Old Dog was neutered, Suzie called Mary asking if she’d
be interested in dropping by and checking out an abandoned puppy. "I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t think this pup wouldn’t be such a good match for you and Old Dog.
Someone dumped the entire litter in front of the clinic a few weeks ago and I’ve found all the pups home but this one girl. She’s adorable. Looks related to Old Dog. You know, that black lab connection."
"I don’t know, Suzie. Old Dog and I are doing great together. He picked me, not the other way round. And he’s perfect when we do weekend shows. A puppy sounds like a lot of work."
"That’s true. They are more work. But there’s something special about raising a dog from puppy hood on."
"You could probably sell me an old car. We’ll come down today."
Suzie was right. They couldn’t walk away from the puppy. "This is probably what Old Dog looked like once," Mary said cuddling the puppy. "She’s adorable."
"And I’ll spay her for free. I’ve already started the vaccinations. They’re on the house."
"I shouldn’t agree to this, but saying no has always been my weakness."
"Tell you what, give her a few weeks, and if it doesn’t work out, bring her back and I’ll continue looking for another home. Sound fair?"
"Fair enough," Mary sighed, unconvinced.
Old Dog took over as if he was Fanny’s natural father. Watching the two of them play, Mary started weaving their images in her next hanging, something she had never thought she’d want to do, preferring patterns and abstract visuals over anything accurately resembling a true image, especially two dogs. "What next? Elvis’s face?" she muttered while weaving. "You two could be the end of my career. You won’t like it if I have to go work at a factory forty hours a week."
That was Mary’s biggest fear. The day she couldn’t earn money weaving and may need to get a forty-hour a week job. Fortunately she was in great health, and her dentist accepted trades. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a doctor.
She couldn’t remember the last time she made love either. She avoided men with children, and men who wanted children avoided Mary after she made it clear she wasn’t interested in having children.
Mary remembered how much easier romance was when she was younger. Different shows meant running into different lovers, and for years, all the artists seemed to be single. But then things changed. Little by little, her old lovers started to appear with wives. Next their children. And now Mary’s showing up with her dogs. The old lovers would surface and Mary would be reminded about their past while they hugged, but then she’d look at the new wife, the children, and they’d exchanged the how cute greetings over the kids and her dogs, and she’d recognize what she could’ve had, somehow sensing those options were no longer available.
Old Dog and Fanny knew they were headed to an art show when Mary started loading the truck with the camping supplies. Eager to hit the road, they’d hop in the front seat waiting for Mary to finish packing.
While camping at an art show in Marquette, Old Dog and Fanny started growling at a stray dog hanging out by their campsite. "Hey, you two, you were strays once. Cut that dog some slack," Mary warned them walking over to greet the stray dog. "You are a skinny thing. Come here," she said offering the dog a biscuit. "Ugh, you’re covered in ticks," she moaned. Mary got the rubbing alcohol and tweezers from the truck and started pulling out the ticks.
Engrossed in the tick removal, Mary didn’t notice the man walking up to her until he spoke. "Hey, Mary, I thought that was you. Wow! What a surprise!"
"Ronnie! It’s been years." Mary was at a loss for words. His presence was so unexpected.
Old Dog and Fanny ran up to Ronnie and smelled him. "Are they friendly?" he asked?
"Once they check you out, you’ll be fine."
"You have guard dogs now. That’s new."
"That’s about all that’s new in my life."
"Is that one also yours?"
"I hope not. He just walked over here and is covered in ticks. Let me get him a bowl of food. You two be nice and let him eat," she warned her dogs. Happy to have Ronnie’s attention, they ignored the dog. "I need a beer after all those ticks. Ugh. Would you like one?"
"Thanks. Glad you got a fire going. It’s cold tonight."
"You here alone?"
"You notice that too? Everyone’s married with kids now. When did all that happen?"
"You’re not married?"
"No. My mom says it’s because I stayed single too long, now I’ll never be able to live with anyone. Every now and then she asks me about you, Mary. You’re about the only old girlfriend she ever liked. ‘Is Mary still single, Ronnie? Maybe you should look her up?’"
"What’s it been? Ten years? I can’t believe she ever liked me."
"You’re always too hard on yourself, Mary."
"Remember that cabin we rented in Montana? We had it made and didn’t even know it."
"We were fools. I’ve been thinking about you and the cabin lately. That’s why it’s so weird to run into you, Mary. Must be some telepathic thing. Did you hear me willing you to come to this show?" Ronnie paused a minute waiting for Mary to say something, but she didn’t say anything. "You look great, Mary. You haven’t changed at all." He gave Mary a tight hug.
Uncomfortable with the embrace, she pulled away, and tried to change the subject. "Where do you live now?"
" I actually live in Traverse City. What about you? You still just living out of the truck and hitting all the summer shows?"
"I’m a home owner now."
"Get out. You settled down?"
"I live in Petoskey."
"I thought you hated grey winters. Remember when I tried to get you to move to Michigan on my grandparent’s farm?"
"Yeah. I didn’t know you were here. Is that where you’re living?"
"On the farm."
" I was doing the summer shows and ended up doing a gig in Saugatuck, some artist-in-residence thing at a camp, and everyone kept saying I should check out the north, so I drove up there and bought a house."
"Damn. How long have you been here?"
"Four years."
"I should’ve stayed in touch with you. I’ve been here seven."
"And you’re not with anyone? No lover? Just you?"
"No lover. No dog. Just me. I paint and paint and paint."
"That’s it?"
"Pretty much. I ski a lot in the winter and bike the rest of the year. What about you? You still take those long walks every day?"
"That hasn’t changed. Except now I walk with two dogs."
"You know, that stray kind of looks like…"
"You’re right," Mary said cutting him off, not wanting to be reminded.
"Buster was a great dog. I really miss that dog, Mary."
"Until Old Dog, I never had another dog."
"It was like losing a child for us. Seemed like the death of Buster was also the end of our relationship. We should’ve gone to counseling like they do when someone’s kid dies. That dog was everything to us. We did everything with him."
"We didn’t know what to do without him. Remember when we picked him out from the shelter? Brought him to the cabin? We had just moved there, and within two days we both decided we wanted a dog. And there he was. We just knew he was the one. All those dogs but we knew Buster was the one for us."
"You know, Mary, we had good years with Buster in that cabin. Sometimes I think those were the best times of my life."
Mary remained silent remembering the gun shot, running outside, and finding Buster close to death, the hunter way off in the distance, backing off, then yelling his final remark: "Your damn dog chased off the biggest buck of the season!"
Life in the mountains changed that day. They took turns digging the grave,
using an ice pick to free the slightly frozen ground. As they dug the grave, they kept crying, somehow knowing they were burying their own lives with Buster. Once Buster was in buried beneath the ground, they built a fire and sat next to grave, drinking whiskey, stoking the fire, watching the moon appear, disappear, and eventually, the sun rise. Early in the morning, they saw that big buck watching them, just standing there in the meadow as if he had been there all night.
Without saying anything, Mary knew Ronnie was immersed in these same memories. After all those years, it was like they were picking up where they had last left off.
So unplanned, unexpected, like so many things in life. The stray sleeping by Mary’s feet, while Old Dog and Fanny slept near Ronnie. Ronnie threw a log on the fire and Mary handed him another beer. Silence except for the sound of the fire and Old Dog’s snoring.
(c) 2006 by Diane Payne