The Dog Blog: Pinder's Bloodline.... Are Puppies Achievable?

Macye forgot how to write fiction because Covid is so awful, and because it is someone’s bad dream come to life. And now she finds that nonfiction has much more magnetism. Let’s see if she strings some words together, finds conflict, resolves, finds unconditional dog love, fights for life and some new life.

It’s July in Jackson Hole, the sun is up. 

Her son Beckett clicks in his seatbelt as they drive up the curved hill out of the neighborhood. She brakes, looks and pulls northward onto South Park Loop Road. 

“I’ve been wondering,” he says while looking at her, “did you ever sneak out at night when you were my age-be honest with me.”

Towering above them, the cottonwood trees are greener than usual from a wet June. Atop sit not one but two Bald eagles. They are stationary, like Macye, and they aren’t waiting for any answers from her, unlike her fourteen-year-old.

            “My brothers did-all the time.”

            “And what about you?”

She drives and tries to remember. What did she do? “My brothers got in a heap of trouble for sneaking out. I always remember being like-I’m glad that’s not me.”

            “So, did you?”

She slows down, pops the blinker up to signal turning the Land Rover. 

            “No. I just came back late. Sometimes really late. And begged forgiveness. But don’t get any ideas!”

They are cruising down High School Road and she’s wondering what Beckett is thinking next. Her phone in the console dings with an incoming text. 

            He grabs it and says, “Message from Glen Cropper, Mom.” 

            “That’s the dog trainer-can you read it to me?”

            “He says ‘stud dog owners are looking to improve the breed, typically look for females that have had all health checks completed, eyes, hips, elbows, EIC and CNM results done. You should look for the same in the stud dog, as well as a record of good performance and temperament. You might find a stud dog owner whose dog you like. If so, I would be happy to talk to you about any specific dog you have in mind or breeding in general.’”

            “Ok, we have a lot to do if we are going to breed Pinder.” Macye has no idea what EIC or CNM mean or if they are even tests that can happen in their small town. Maybe in Salt Lake or Bozeman. As the final turn comes up, she swings into the high school parking lot, from there they travel south and then turn in front of the tennis courts. Beckett usually enters the weight training from the high school’s rear doors. “We are here. Maybe you stayed up late playing games?” When he stares straight ahead, she ruffles his chestnut hair off his forehead. 

He blinks. After his eyes center, he shakes his head to clear it. 

            “Ok, I’m awake.”

            She looks at him sideways.

            “Yeah, I know Mom, it’s like you always say, ‘there are certain things that are worth getting up for!’”

On the way back home, Macye’s feelings move between relief for Beckett being allowed to return to weightlifting (6 boys at a time) and anxiety about their yellow lab. Is this too much? Testing, stud dogs and loads of research, to do it right. Never mind the costs...or if the tests might reveal Pinder isn’t breedable. 

Above her, there is the garage door button on the sun visor. She has pressed it immeasurable times, but this once, as the door raises, she sees Pinder like it’s the first time. As the dog skitters down low to come out before the door reaches her height, Macye appreciates all of her, the blonde body on her four graceful, powerful legs, her fuzzy crown. It’s perfectly shaped like the tip of the sun going down over the mountain, creamy ears that dangle to pinpoints, pinkish brown snout wiggling side to side, and those sweet white whiskers. The dog prances to the vehicle. When Macye opens her door Pinder’s eyebrows spring up. Her tail hits jet force, and as her owner, Macye wants there to be more like her in the world. To bring out this fullness, ripeness, eagerness to love, which she feels while petting her now, squeezing the fur between her ears and drawing her hands down the soft neck. She recalls her daughter’s voice when she cuddles Pinder at night. “Puppy,” Macye says, “you have the heart of a lion.”