Saturday, December 15, 2007
After we had opened all the packages under the tree, the phone rang. My dad said Santa had left one present at the wrong house and he needed to go pick it up. He came back carrying a Bassett Hound puppy. Her ears dragged on the floor because her legs were so short, and her feet were huge. She was shaking like a tiny bowl of jelly. It was love at first sight.
When summer rolled around there were suddenly a lot of dogs visiting Flower. Dad realized they didn't have very honorable intentions, so he and our neighbor sat outside at night with a shotgun loaded with salt pellets. Apparently they weren't very good marksman.
Flower was "expecting." Her stomach was so big it dragged on the ground along with her ears. Even my mom (who had lost affection for her in her potty-training phase) had sympathy for Flower in this awkward and miserable condition.
I came home from the first day of school (it was also my 13th birthday) and found Mom in the garage, with perspiration on her brow and kitchen gloves on her hands. She had spent the day as a midwife, delivering ten puppies! Flower was in her bed, exhausted, with my cute mom to thank for her life.
Again, it was puppy love.