Writers Corner August 24, 2012

THE TREASURE OF OUR HOUSE

By Lisa Odenberg,

Post Falls

His picture appeared in an email from my friend Lynn. It was difficult to notice the fluffy, yellow Labrador, who blended in with the winter backdrop. I refocused my eyes and saw a blue collar connected to a puppy. I called Lynn and congratulated her on the new dog. "Oh, he's not mine. My sister Vicky has to find a home for Mac. She has three children, three dogs, three horses and divorce is imminent. Do you want him?" she asked. "He looks like a great deal of work, but I'll think about it," I replied.

Over the next month, my thoughts were about Mac. One afternoon I was home and had just baked pumpkin bread. An unexpected surprise transpired. Vicky invited us to come visit with her and the dog. This phone call was no accident. I told the kids about Mac and they were excited. In a hurry, the appliances were left on the counter and the pumpkin bread to cool. We piled into the car, drove to Vicky's and gathered in her family room. It was cute the way Mac leaned all his body weight onto Vicky's leg. He appeared to smile. We fell in love with Mac and knew he had to come home with us. We loaded him into the car. While on the road my daughter Gina said, "Mom, the dog urinated back here." I pulled over to a grassy area, though Mac just sniffed the ground. When we got back in the vehicle, he emptied the rest of his bladder.

After we arrived home, Mac roamed the house. I left him alone for just a minute, and heard a metal rack crash on the kitchen floor. Mac had climbed up the forty-two inch counter, knocked over the pumpkin bread and devoured it. I still have no idea how he climbed Mt. Rainier and passed through the silent fortress of kitchen appliances. Mac proved he had part deer in his genetic make-up. Super dog admired by other canines, and has scored more points in a game of basketball than a professional ball player.

In our home, a treasure more valued than jewels or money was my pumpkin bread prepared at Christmas. Last year, I made Gina two small loaves wrapped in green plastic. After the other gifts had been opened, she secured the loaves on the top shelf of her closet hidden from her brother.

About 20 minutes passed by and Gina shouted, "Bad dog." I ran to her room and discovered a few pieces of the plastic wrap on top of the carpet. Mac dug his incisors and canines in for complete extraction of the crumbs. A technique implemented on prior occasions. It reminded me of how mother birds feed their young. The chase had begun. Mac choked while he ran away from Gina.

The first year Mac lived with us, we attempted to train him. Frustrated, we placed him in obedience school. Both endeavors failed to make Mac a better dog, or get him house-trained quicker. While he pretended to sleep on his dog bed, he no doubt dreamt about ways to get outside and help himself to the backyard buffet. For two years, his self-imposed variable diet was comprised of stolen blackberries, strawberries and flowers before he was corralled back into the house. His unofficial fixed diet consisted of carrots and peanut butter when Gina gave it to him. We were convinced Mac was a vegetarian.

If Mac had been reincarnated, he would have been a kindergartner in his previous life. When scolded he became a statue. Except for his eyes, which moved independent of each other in the same way a chameleon's eyes work. After a peripheral snapshot of where you stood, Mac evaluated his escape plans. I am confident he asked himself this question, "Are they talking to me? If I ignore them, will they go away?" When the trouble had passed, Mac would prance away similar to how a child skips.

Mac was labor intensive, but he displayed his love without reservation. He liked to nuzzle his nose into our neck, or place his head on our lap. In the late afternoon, he curled up like a donut by my feet. At bedtime, the kids would fight about who had the dog in their room. He slept on the winner's bed. Mac gave the entire family unconditional love.

Send us your original poems, your prose, essays and anecdotes.

The Press Writers Corner features original, creative writing submitted by our readers. We publish the column most Fridays in the North Idaho Life section of the print edition of The Press.

Send your Writers Corner submissions to Maureen Dolan, mdolan@cdapress.com.

We prefer email submissions, and ask that you limit the length of your short stories, essays and poems. Please include your hometown with your submission.

You can send hard-copies by mail to Maureen Dolan at The Press, 201 Second St., Coeur d'Alene, ID 83814.