A DOG NAMED PETER
We once had a dog named Peter...we
don't need to go into the derivation of the dog's name. It had
something to do with his hygienic maintenance habits, okay?
Anyway, right after we got the dog,
and he was a cute little dog, the road department came along
and blacktopped the dirt road out in front of our house. Whereas
before Peter was happy performing his ablutions just about any old
where, as soon as that road got put in, and as soon as it was cool
enough to touch, Peter began to hang out in the middle of the road,
doing his thing.
Well, we tried. We said, “Pete,
get out of the road. Somebody's gonna come around that curve and hit
you and kill you. “ But no matter what we did, up to and
including going out and picking him up and depositing him back in the
yard, he'd still find a way to be back in the middle of the road,
luxuriating in the sun and soaking up the warmth of the blacktop.
His own private San Trop.
And of course it wasn't long until a
car, a little pea-green Chevy coupe, did come around the curve and
before Peter, being all self-involved and all, could leap up and
escape he got knocked ass over teakettle over to the side of the
road, where he lay still. We thought he was dead. We all went to
bawling and crying and just carrying on something awful, saying “Aw,
poor Peter. He was such a good dog. But he just wouldn't listen.
Poor little guy.”
But miracles do happen, and after a
little while Peter woke up. And we were joyous. The only thing was
that after he had come fully to his senses and for some time later he
walked with a limp. And of course, everybody who came to the house
said stuff like, “Aw, poor little Petey. What a sweet little, good
little dog,” and comments of that nature.
More time went by. He didn't go in
the road any more. And after a while, Peter regained the normal use
of his right hind leg that had been hurt, praise be, and for all
intents and purposes you couldn't tell that anything had ever
happened to the little guy. I mean, he would run and jump and chase
the balls we threw, he could even jump rope! You never in your life
saw such a little engine of happiness.
But when he was bad and got scolded
for sucking eggs or doing any of the other things that country dogs
are capable of, his ears would droop, he'd look up at you sadly and
accusingly and whimper and walk away. Limping.
