Written by Mickey Hunt –

Dad adopted me when I was a pup, and we don’t look alike at all, but no matter. He was single and kind of old for raising a baby, and not the most responsible parent, either—I mean, he was okay until he… but I’ll explain that situation in a minute.

Our friend Jake and his girl Sally would sit around the campfire with us and tell stories. (I love being outdoors with all the delicious smells!) Sometimes they’d be drunk and argue. I was too young to remember it happening, but my favorite story was about my adoption. Jake loved to tell it because he was the lookout and saw it all.

Jake would say, “Old Dad, he’d been scoping the agency for weeks and found his baby. Oh, he talked about the baby so much—he loved you, Henry—and we wore out hearing it, so I says, ‘Why don’t you adopt him?’ Your Dad declares he’d like that more than the whole world. So, we make a plan. Starting off, we clean up: fresh clothes from Goodwill, a shower at the shelter, cologne.

“At the agency Sally goes to the back and asks could she hold the python. Another clerk lifts you from your pen Henry, so Dad can, ‘see how you act,’ and meanwhile, I study the security man. With the snake on her shoulders, Sally freezes and starts screaming like a crazy-woman. Everyone’s now distracted. Dad snatches you up, stuffs you under his jacket, and walks out the door. When Security Man gives chase, I step in his way and down he spills. He being heavy, me being light—I’m escaped. Gone.”

That was Jake talking, remember. If he ever messed up and said, “Purebred English Bulldog—worth a barrel of money,” Sally shushed him and Dad looked worried.

Dad always finished the story. “Oh, I ran and ran, Henry. Ran like the wind. We’ve got our secret place here in the woods where the police can’t find us, and we live like kings.”

Then he’d massage my neck, pick me up, and cradle me back and forth. We were happy.

^^^

Sally’s belly grew large and one day she came home with a new pup, a scrawny, hairless runt. Jake beamed with pride, but Dad became upset. He whimpered and twitched in his sleep and cried, “My babies, my babies.” I’d snuggle in closer, and he’d put his arm around me and squeeze.

Somehow Jake found a little extra money and asked Dad to babysit the runt so he and Sally might go on a date. It was a cool, quiet, fall evening and Dad built a cozy fire. We ate stew. Dad warmed Sally’s milk and fed the pitiful creature. He set it down asleep on a pad.

Then we noticed: flashing lights and gruff voices.

“Police!” Dad barked.

He gaped at the runt and he gaped at me. I thought it was an easy decision—pick me, obviously—but Dad twisted back and forth in agony and pulled his scruffy beard.

The tense voices approached, sour scents and more lights.

“Oh my gosh, I don’t know what to do,” Dad whined. “I can’t save you both.” Suddenly he grabbed the runt and ran like the wind. Like a speedy spider on its back legs.

I couldn’t believe it. He’d left me. I tried to keep up, but it was impossible—I was breathing too hard—so I lay down on the path and waited.

The nice police officers gave me pie, and in the morning one took me to a place called the Pet Store. Those odd people clapped their hands and exclaimed how big I was. After awhile I went to live with Kayla in an apartment. It’s too clean, but she feeds me crunchy food and I enjoy our walks. Walking is more fun than being packed around in a blanket or pushed in a shopping cart as Dad always did. Not long ago Kayla and I saw Dad at the park playing catch with a spritely female. She’d race along, leap into the air, and clamp her teeth on a disk.

I’m glad Dad found a friend, one to run with him. Hmm. She’s kind of cute, actually.

Yeah. I’m really glad I’m not a baby anymore.

Years ago Asheville resident Mickey Hunt had a Collie/German Shepherd mix named Pete who jumped from a truck window at a mall in Vancouver, Washington, wandered off, and then was found by Mickey’s brother six months later at Christmas inside the same mall. True story. Mickey’s stories have appeared in Every Day Fiction, Penumbra, Stupefying Stories, and elsewhere, and you can learn more about his work at chaoticterrainpress.blogspot.com.