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The dog jumped on the kids as soon as they got home. When she jumped on me, I said, “No jumping.” Sharply. In a week or two she stopped. But I’m the one who fed her.
The dog licked my husband’s face and hands. I wouldn’t let her lick me. But I’m the one who walked her twice a day.
The dog barked when grandma came to the door. “No barking!” I ordered. She stopped. I’m the one who always took her to the vet.
The kids and their father ran around the park with her. When she got tired, she came and sat under my bench. I poured water from my bottle and she lapped each drop. She liked that.
When the kids were in college, she died. They still tell stories about her.
I knew how it would be. Whose dog was she?
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2008 Hetty Banay
Previous Best Stories
Frank, Lorraine,
Huisman, Clare
Johnson, Heather
Martin, Sue
Nilas, Hannah
Shual, Judith
Zachary, Joe Mason
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"Whose Dog?"
by Hetty Banay
“Can we get a dog?”
I answered, “If you’ll take care of it.”
“It’ll be our dog,” they said.
My husband said, “Every family should have a dog.”
I knew how it would be.
