My Friend, Pet
By Bill Shepard
I have written about my old friend before, more than once, as some of my readers could agree. I do not know why she continues to show up, but she does and after such a long time! It has been more than fourscore years since my friend first entered unexpectedly into my life and it seems evident that she came to stay, if only in my dreams! Often when I am at work in my small vegetable garden, or walking among my rows of blueberry plants, she will step out before me; it seems I hear her bark and I am back to reality! Most of the time my old friend shows up late at night while I am waiting for sleep to overtake the things that my mind is reluctant to let go of. It matters not when she shows up or where, she is a welcome visitor!
Old Pet, that’s her name, has been gone for a long time. She died of a snake bite that sent its poisonous venom through her body and there was no one to help! We buried Pet behind dad’s old car shed where he kept his old model-T Ford. Now I have moved ahead in my story, please allow me to go back to the beginning!
My brother was the dog lover in our family, so when Pet showed up looking for a biscuit, she got one. It did seem that more strays showed up at our house than any other. Mama always said that if I threw a biscuit to every stray dog or cat I would soon own them. I really think that deep inside my mama felt sorry for the old things as much as I. That is why she seldom followed through with any of the threats she made if I did not stop feeding the creatures when they showed up!
The day that Pet showed up and I threw what was left of the biscuit I was eating on, mama saw and called, “You will own that old dog if you keep that up!” I knew dogs couldn’t talk but the way this one looked at me I thought she was saying I will give you something in return for your kindness. That would be done in the days, weeks and months ahead.
At first my brother did not think much of the old stray. She did not have the markings of a good hunting dog. My brother measured every dog by the length of their ears. The longer, the better! He would pick a pup up by the skin behind its ears and if it squealed, he would drop it and declare it no good!
My brother favored hounds and had owned all breeds. He owned Black and Tan, Walkers, Red-Bone, and others. Once he owned a Bulldog but only for a short time. I suppose his ears were too short!
Pet, that was the name I gave her, not knowing another she might have had. Mama was more kind to Pet than she had been to any of the others that came by. That was in my favor because I had already fallen in love with her. She would follow me around in the yard and would even lie down beside me when I sat down on the porch or doorsteps. She was beginning to get my brother’s attention also. I suspected it wouldn’t be long before she would be invited to go along on one of his night hunts. I was jealous at the thought of that happening! Pet was my friend and I did not want her to get all scratched up by the wild creatures in the swamp. I had seen the old hounds come home from a hunt, their ears and face bleeding from having been in a fight with an old raccoon. Pet was not a hunting dog and I did not want her to become one!
What I had thought would come earlier than I expected. My brother was sitting on the steps lacing up his boots, “Going hunting tonight”, I said to myself but my brother heard me and asked, Wanna go?” I answered “No!” “Pet is going” he said, “I want to see what she will do.”
When early dark arrived they were off. I didn’t stay up to learn what happened but I learned the next morning that she had performed well. I saw my brother feeding Pet along with his other dogs, and I saw him take one of his own dog collars and put it around Pet’s neck. That old jealous streak showed up again inside me. She is not a hunting dog, she is my friend, I wanted to say, but I knew better than to start an argument. Mama would not like that.
After that first night, Pet was along on all the following hunts. Pet had become one of my brother’s favorite dogs.
When the summer came and the nights were hot I would often sleep on the porch. I would spread one of my mama’s quilts on the floor and lie down. If Pet was not in the woods, she would lie down beside me. I felt safer at those times. One night after a hunt in the woods, Pet did not return with my brother and the other dogs. All the next day she did not show up. We were concerned and wondered what could have happened. The next morning as I was standing in the yard, gazing across the plowed field that separated our yard from the forest, I saw old Pet approaching. She seemed to be dragging her head across the plowed earth. We went to where she was, her head was swollen to twice its size.
You already know the rest of the story.
Next time, Bill Shepard
Mr. Shepard is a native of Darlington, S.C., and a current resident of Piedmont, S.C. He is the author of “Mill Town Boy” and “Bruised”. He has been sharing his tales of growing up in Darlington for decades, and we are delighted to share them each week.
His mailing address for cards and letters is: Bill Shepard 324 Sunny Lane, Piedmont, S.C. 29673.
