FOO DOG
Dené Breakfield I knew I’d never make it through the weekend without a healthy stockpile of apple fritters, whiskey, and Camel menthols. My final stop after securing supplies was the vet’s. I sat in the parking lot, gnawing on a fritter, waiting for the sugar buzz to carry me inside and prop me upright long enough to pick up Farley’s ashes. Once home, I stood in front of the fireplace mantel, hugging the small wooden box, trying to find a place for it among the others: four dogs, six cats, two rabbits, one parrot, and a husband. They were flanked on either side by decades-old high school pictures of my two children, now grown, living busy faraway lives, calling and visiting less frequently with each passing year. I should’ve planned better. I set Farley down on the coffee table, cracked open the whiskey, and raised my shot glass to him. After the third toast, I went out back to have a cigarette and eat a couple fritters to absorb the alcohol. That’s when I saw the clay pot and surrendered to an idea. Soon, I was prying the boxes open with a screwdriver and pouring everyone’s ashes inside the pot. The plan was to add mine to the mix, then have something substantial planted of top us, something that would last—an apple tree, maybe. I pictured our spirits living together inside the tree, becoming its roots, its branches, its fruit. This made me feel a little less hollowed out. I went back inside, poured myself a double, turned on the TV, and sipped my whiskey while mindlessly flipping through channels. I paused at a commercial that was advertising heartworm pills. A young woman sat by a fireplace, reading. By her side lay a golden retriever who kind of reminded me of Farley. “Oh, what a cute dog!” I said, feeling a familiar ache behind my eyes. He walked toward the camera and started whining. The young woman looked up from her book. “Ollie,” she said, patting the side of the chair. “Come here, boy.” Ollie turned his head briefly toward his owner and wagged his tail, then looked back into the camera and said, “You need a dog.” 21
