DEXTER, GOOD DOG!

Their car backed out of the garage and headed down the driveway. It was early morning. There was still a sliver of moon in the sky. But I could see Alison’s little pink face pressed against the rear window as it drove away. Then they were gone, and I was alone again, just like that time long ago. What did I do wrong?

My name is Dexter. You can call me Dexter. I am just a dog, but don’t call me Doggie or Rover or Paws, because you think that I don’t care what you call me, because you think I am a mutt. I do care. I am just a dog, not a special dog like a Samoyed, or a Labradoodle, or one of those hairy afghans. But I am not a mutt.

Just because I am not wearing a diamond-studded collar, does that make me less of a dog? Just because I am not wearing a fancy designer harness, just because maybe I need a little grooming here and there, I am still me. I am still Dexter. Just because I won’t have a regular place to sleep anymore, or a water bowl with my name on it, I am still Dexter. I am still a good dog. That’s what they used to call me before they left. “Good dog, Dexter”. They used to say that when I caught the frisbee in the yard, or I lifted one paw and pretended to beg. I didn't have to beg when I was their good dog, because my dish was always filled at six o’clock with big chunks of meat and crunchy bones. When they whistled for me to come in after dark, I would come back just like that, no matter where I was, because I loved my people. My people who called me their “good dog”.

I was a good dog. But maybe I was not a good enough dog? Maybe they needed a better dog? A dog that had four legs instead of my three. (A delivery truck backed into me and crushed my back leg when I was a little pup). But I can still jump up to catch a frisbee and run with Allison, Eddie, and Mimi.

I was a rescue once , okay. But today, I am not a mutt anymore. I am a mixed breed. Part shepherd, a little terrier, a little something else maybe, the lady in the shelter who brushed my coat said. I never knew my mother or my father. But I like to think that my mother was a pretty little terrier and my father was a handsome German Shepherd. Maybe I got that thin white stripe on my nose that looks like melted ice cream from my mother, Allison says. I like that. I like ice cream. I like Allison.

Besides Allison, there was Eddie, and baby Mimi, who gave me my name, Dexter. They all gave me hugs every day. Eddie used to kiss me on my nose when the parents weren't looking.Once, when they were frightened by a thunderstorm, I slept in their beds all night. And they tickled me until I play-growled.

I won’t have anyone to play growl with anymore because they left me behind. I will have to live in the streets with those mean alley cats, where it is not so friendly for a homeless dog. I will have to watch out for the animal control wagon when it comes around and for other dogs who eat out of garbage cans. Today I hid behind a dumpster and watched a fight between two boys about Eddie’s age. They ran away when they saw the police cruiser, but they dropped a water bottle that was only half empty. That was good luck. I miss my big water bowl with the dog ears on the side next to my name. But it isn't mine anymore. I miss my warm, soft dogbed that's big enough for little Mimi to sit inside with me. And I miss my home, but it isn’t mine anymore either.

I thought this morning, when they drove away, when the sun had barely come up, that they were just going to church. I thought that they would remember me and come right back and open the back door so I could jump in the back seat and snuggle- sit beside Allison and Eddie and Mimi…like always, like before. But it got later and later, and I knew church service was over, even the coffee hour. The sun went down, it got dark, and I waited at the end of the driveway, but they never came back. The dog flap in the kitchen door was shut tight, and all the shades were pulled. My dog dish on the back steps was empty. But. Mimi had left half of her French toast next to my bowl. Was I still a good dog? Was Mimi saying goodbye? I crawled under the porch and shivered. Were there really big bears in the woods out back, like Allison said? Bears that could walk on their back feet, bears hungry enough to eat a dog like me from ear to tail, bones and all?

It was getting darker. Was that a hyena I heard crying up in the hills? There was something in the crawlspace behind me, something behind me, something with claws that was crawling on its belly through the dirt and reaching for my back paws and my tail. I howled, but it kept getting closer and closer. It was growling as though it was about to pounce. It smelled like a big wet rat!

“Dexter, Dexter, Wake up, look at your little paws clawing at the air. Are you having a nightmare?”

It was Allison, not a bear, wrapping both arms around me. And putting me back in my my soft warm dogbed, next to Dexter’s waterbowl.

Don’t be scared, Dexter.” Miimi kissed me on my white stripe.

“You’re safe now,”

Here, Dexter, a breakfast treat,” said Eddie. Your favourite dog bone.”

Mimi pressed her cheek on my white stripe,

“Dexter, you’re a good dog!”