Friday, April 24, 2009

Dog Story Trilogy: Part II, Blackie, Continued


Still Not Blackie (Obviously) But Yet Another Picture to Establish My Credibility As a Dog Person and Isn't This a Cool Dog?  We named him Sampson.



And now, back to our story of Blackie which we started yesterday...

(If you didn't read yesterday's post, do so before going on!  I mean it!)



The driver of the car stopped too, got out and stood over Blackie.  My father gave me strict instructions to stay in the wagon.  The driver of the car apologized and and watched as my father dragged Blackie's body into the nearby deep ditch. I stayed in the wagon, crying. We pulled away and went to the co-op as planned but I could think of nothing but Blackie, that black streak of light across green fields, now in the ditch cold and dead. 

My father took a different route home and when we got to house he explained to my mother and sisters what had happened. There was complete silence as they heard the news and the next few days we sorely missed that black dog who each morning had come so eagerly to the door to greet my father and head out with him for the day's work.

About a week later later, one of my older sisters was vacuuming in the living room when I passed by her and went to the front door. There on the porch was a medium-sized black dog. I stood there, startled at the unexpected sight. He was dirty, tired and definitely needed a good meal. Through the screen door, I looked closely at the familiar face and white spot on his head and then tentatively called, "Blackie?" His weary eyes met mine directly and he managed to wag his tail.

I immediately went to get my sister who turned off the vacuum to listen to my story.  She looked at me and said sharply, "Listen to me. Blackie is dead and it's not funny to make up stuff like this." She flipped the vacuum back on and turned away.  I went back to the door to look at the dog again then went back over to the vacuum and shut it off myself. "Just come and look," I implored. She sighed heavily, rolled her eyes and and walked with me. At the door she stopped short. She called my Mom who called my Dad who proclaimed it was indeed Blackie.

After he came home, Blackie took long swims in the pond to restore the beauty of his coat. He had plenty of good meals and long naps and soon was back to his old self, running back to the fields with my dad, stopping to play in the creek, and taking the perimeter of the pond at top speed. (I am not sure the frogs appreciated his return as much as we did.)
  
Oh, and on the day he returned to us, Blackie also got something else: a new name.  

From that day on, he was no longer known as Blackie.  

We called him Lucky.

3 comments:

Grace said...

Thank God!!! I a much better ending!! I agree, that was one "Lucky" dog. It's amazing that some dogs (and Humans) can manage to overcome terrible events that would normally kill them. Thanks for the happy ending!

Bossy Betty said...

I knew you'd be happy if you came back! Sorry to put you through a sleepless night wondering what happened.

Thanks for reading!

--BB

Susan said...

Oh, Lucky! What a great new name! I love this trilogy, Betty!