|main menu | youngsters categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools|
|SHINY BLACK PROBLEM (standard:drama, 981 words)|
|Author: BENTLINK||Added: Apr 26 2010||Views/Reads: 1550/858||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Someone I never met gave me a problem I had to solve; a passed on burden that before being resolved would caused me to learn more about myself than I really wanted to know and wound my heart in the process.|
` SHINY BLACK PROBLEM Someone I never met gave me a problem I had to solve; a passed on burden that before being resolved would caused me to learn more about myself than I really wanted to know and wound my heart in the process. I am retired man living quietly in a nondescript neighborhood of Memphis. The cause of upheaval in my life, the insult to the tranquil sameness of my days was a beautiful young but fully-grown stray dog. He had medium length shinny black fur, a carriage, size, and coat very like my first ever dog I grew up with as a boy. When I went out for my daily walks, the young dog followed along at a distance about one house behind. When I stopped to chat with neighbors the dog crossed the street moving one house ahead and sat down to await my next move. Walking or waiting the dog was alertly looking about, observing everything happening around him. He always looked quickly back my way when I talked or moved. The urge to touch the dog, to run my fingers through the shiny black coat, to look into what I knew would be soft warm brown eyes, to have my hand licked and then my legs calf muscles warmed by the dog standing close beside me grew stronger with each passing day. I never called the dog to me but I knew with absolute surety that he would have responded in an instant. I also knew I would have been powerless to resist being drawn into a twelve or fourteen year long relationship of unconditional love and companionship, hopelessly committed to pet ownerships responsibility and care giving for the remainder of his life or my own. I thought several times about phoning for the city dogcatcher or collecting the beast and taking it to the pound. I of course did not call, could not call because I feared the animal would be put to death or find its way to a place were it would be unloved and mistreated. I now think I did not take action because I was afraid of loosing another bit of my humanity. I cling tightly to and hold sacred this bit of me that feels shamed by even the idea that I could be the cause pain or death for such a beautiful healthy animal. In addition to this stray dog, we have also had a ground mole invasion here among the small well-kept homes. Almost every household has a family of moles digging up their Bermuda grass lawns and searching out grubs and earthworms by tunneling under flower bulbs and plant roots. The young black dog must have thought he had been sworn in as our neighborhood mole sheriff because not long after he arrived and started walking with me he began a spirited day and night pursuit of the moles. Dog size irregular shaped holes began appearing in the neighborhoods manicured flowerbeds. The dog also acquired a taste for and the skills required to retrieve tidbits from the roll around trash carts we place street side for collection each Monday morning. He learned the carts need only be knocked over, their contents spread out and the sifted through in order to get a tasty well balanced meal of table scrapes and other family discards. After a number of phone call complaints to the powers-that-be by the dug upon and trash cart insulted neighbors a dogcatcher was dispatched to remove the shinny-coated vagabond. The officials first visit was fruitless as the dog was no were to be found. However giving evidence that he was still around was a freshly dug hole and two overturned garbage collection bins. Refuse had been scattered or carefully sorted depending on your point of view across the front yards of several homes. Since I knew the family that used the carts had babies I put forth the theory that perhaps the dog was somewhere sleeping off a used diaper induced stupor. My theory about the dogs whereabouts might have been better received had I offered help in the cleanup but years ago after my last offspring was fully potty trained I had made a promise to myself that I would never again touch a soiled diaper. So instead of helping with the litter pickup beautification project I stayed true to my pledge and stole out of sight while mumbling something about expecting an important phone Click here to read the rest of this story (25 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
BENTLINK has 33 active stories on this site.
Profile for BENTLINK, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.