Combined smells of coffee, perfume, and baking cinnamon buns wafted through the East wing of the mall and were enough to make me sneeze and experience hunger pangs, but I resisted both. If only resisting my five-year-old daughter Teppi worked as well, I’d have a little more money and not have to deal with the complexities of life.
We rounded a corner, heading toward one of the anchor department stores when I noticed an older man, stout and balding, pulling a wagon on the left side of the mall wing with what looked like kennels while holding something I felt might be kittens or puppies. I watched people ooh and aah from a distance and steered my daughter to the right side of the people flow and hoped she didn’t notice.
As most parents know, kids have some sort of psychic radar and zero in on the very thing the parent doesn’t want them to experience, and before I could step forward with my left foot, I felt a tug on my hand, “Look, Dad,” followed by an illegal lane change in the mall. I either had to release her hand or follow behind her.
My first thought was why the mall had allowed him (if they even knew) to pull the mother dog in a kennel in a wagon with the puppies, particularly since they knew he was selling them. My second thought was whether this old man ran a puppy mill, somewhere outside the city, hidden by a forest, that might show up one day on the news, or worse, in a PETA commercial, one that plays sad music and brings tears to anyone with half a heart. The man, however, was nice enough and told me the puppies had their shots, he and his wife weren’t in it for the money, they simply couldn’t care for any more than the mother dog, and they were older now and didn’t have the hyperactive energy young Collies had.
Collies belonged on a farm, somewhere out from an inner-city neighborhood with a square patch of grass and no fence. They were more energetic than my five-year-old daughter Teppi and required more time than I or my wife had. Plus, everything had gone up in prices from gasoline to eggs since the election, and I imagined grooming, dog food, and vet fees were higher, too.
“Honey, it’s not your birthday, it’s expensive, and you got a lot for Christmas, remember?”
“Oh, Daddy, please,” she begged, tears puddling in her eyes. “I don’t want anything else for my birthday, and I’ll write Santa and skip next year altogether.” Seems like I’d heard that one before. In fact, I saw myself pleading with my own parents years earlier.
“Teppi, a dog is a lot of responsibility, and we really don’t have the yard he’d need.”
“Oh, he’ll love it,” she begged. “I promise I’ll take care of him.”
The balding man beamed and said, “I think he loves you,” when Teppi petted him and rubbed his ears, and I wanted to belt him.
I knew I was on a sinking ship, and my only rowboat was to pay the geezer the four hundred dollars. My own parents never gave in, but like most parents, I wanted a better life for Teppi, a life with a puppy. I knew that when we got home, my wife would call me a sucker and would end up going to the pet store for all the supplies, food, and squeaky toys, and I knew I’d be the one to take him out to his outhouse on our square patch of grass, which would probably turn to weeds within the year.
Teppi named the Collie puppy Hunter, and within the first year, he grew much bigger. His nails wore the paint off our porch since he was tethered to one of the beams when outside. The birds landed on the railing, and he couldn’t quite get to them and he barked and barked. None of our zero lot line neighbors said anything about the barking to us, but I suspected they complained to each other. When I took him on the leash to the square patch of grass, he tried to run after everything and anything and gave my arms quite the workout. Teppi couldn’t have handled him after a few months. He would have pulled her down. By then, she thought the front yard was disgusting and certainly wouldn’t use the pooper scooper I used to bag and dispose of his business.
One afternoon, I drove home early to beat the traffic commuters and saw what looked like Hunter on the side of the road. I didn’t believe it, and I felt a large lump in my throat. Hunter had broken his leash, and Teppi was still at school. I walked back to the side road next to our community, wrapped him in an old sheet, and placed him next to the patch of grass. She knew immediately something was wrong when she jumped out of the Subaru, and my wife looked at me and shook her head. I nodded, and she wiped tears. I explained to Teppi about the rainbow bridge, heaven, and showed her that death was like permanent sleep. She cried herself to sleep after supper and a bath, and I went out and buried Hunter.
It was a shame that no one stopped, and my heart broke for Teppi. The next morning, she asked about getting another puppy, but I told her we needed to wait a while and think about what sort of pet might be best---a kitten, a goldfish, or a hamster. She wanted another dog, and I agreed that after we waited a while, we could do some research to see what the best inside dog might be. I became an expert in changing the subject to avoid the dog discussions, but I knew Teppi would figure me out sooner or later and wear me down again.
