Later, with Herself gone off to a
movie with girl friends, Murphy and I sat out on the back lawn and watched the
stars begin to unfold their nightly revue.
Somewhere along the narrow pond that runs behind the houses on our
street a splash sounded in the still night air.
Not much moves in the pond at night and there have been rumors of alligators
in the area.
In the half light I saw Murphy’s
eyes open with interest, but not concern.
“Go find out what made the noise,”
I said to her. I was almost instantly
sorry for the suggestion and wondered how the heck I’d ever explain to my wife
I’d sent Murphy off to do battle with an alligator. If indeed the dog lost the fight.
Murphy stood as if to obey my
command. Her head swung around to point
in the direction of the splash.
“Belay that order,” I said. “it may not be safe, and we don’t want to
lose you without ever finding out if you would have some day become a good dog.”
Even in the quickly advancing
darkness, I sensed her disdain for my
remark and I was certain I heard her snort.
She lay back down in the grass beside my chair. Soon she was chewing on a small rock. I wondered what a rock tastes like, but my
good table manners prevented me from asking Murphy to share it. Besides, my teeth cost too much to risk
them. And if a rock in a dog's back yard has any taste at
all, I can imagine what it came from.
copyright 2015, David Griffin
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
www.windsweptpress.com
