Earth Day is the Name of My Dawg

So, just as not all Chrysler people are bad, some are good. For sure, she was a good woman. What was her name? Dang, that's gonna bother me all day, wonderin' what the Hell her name was. Susan, yeah, that was it. Her name was Susan. I've always been partial to that name, 'specially after hookin' up with her, which explains the reason why I hooked up with two Susans, Sue Ellen and plain Susan, not that she was plain by any means. She was sure 'nough fancy for me. The fanciest woman I ever had, but don't get me started on that story. That's another story for another time.

Still, 'specially in this small town, it was better that that stranger pulled up in a Dodge than in one of them Jap trucks or a big, fancy German see-dan. Not that Dodge makes a better truck than a Jap truck, they don't, but the simple folk 'round here don't like reminders of the rich, city folk that put them out of work, after those financ'al, penny pinchin' bastards closed the Pontiac and Oldsmobile factories and shut down Hummer and Saturn dealerships, too. With them puttin' a lot of people outta work, that set the ball in motion with other bus'nesses that counted on General Motors. Even the diner had to let Daisy and Sally go 'cause people didn't have money 'nuff to eat out all the time. Instead, they opened another dang Wal-Mart inside of a mall that we don't need or want, so long as we have Harley's General Store. If you can't buy whatever it is you want at Harley's, you don't rightly need it, I reck'n.

Having nothin' else better to do, other than for curiosity sake, I watched that stranger get outta his truck. Right off, he looked familiar. Not ever havin' rightly met the man, I knew I didn't know him, but he looked a little like that Javier Bardem fella, who played Anton Chigurh from that movie, No Country for Old Men. I love that movie, watched it three times. I haven't watched another movie three times, since I watched that movie with Burt Reynolds, Deliv'rance. I loved that movie, too. Anyway, that No Country for Old Men movie was a scary movie, when that guy killed all those innocent folk with a cattle gun and I looked to see if the stranger was carryin' a cattle gun, but he wasn't.

After taken' another look at this fella, his truck was in as sorry shape as he was. His face looked like it had been hit with the bus'ness end of a shovel. One eye was swollen nearly shut and his lip was all busted up. If I remember what he looked like, I think his nose was a little crooked, too. Someone took a dislikin' to him by poundin' his face with their fists, that's for sure.

So anyways, he steps outta his truck and stares at my dawg in a disrespectin' way. Everyone in town loves my dawg. 'Cept when he's gnawin' and slobbering on cats some, there's no reason to dislike Earth. He's a gentle giant. For sure, he'd never hurt a cat, unless I mistakenly gave him the chow down command, then he'd bite the thing in half, his jaws are so dang powerful.

"That's a funny lookin' dawg, Mister," he said lookin' down at my dawg and spittin' a bit of chaw that nearly hit Earth's big paw.

Right off, I took a dislikin' to this dude and Earth did, too, when she gave him a low growl.

"Grrrr," kind of like that.

As if we were nothin', not even worth his spit, he insulted me and my dawg in the way he spit in our direction. If I still had my legs, I would have said somethin' to him 'bout him spittin' too close. I didn't like this stranger one bit and if I still had my legs, no doubt, I may have tangled up rastlin' with him, rollin' him around in the dirt for disrespectin' me and Earth by spittin' so close to us. Not to mention, he disrespected Harley's place, too. People 'round here know that Harley keeps a clean place and don't take kindly to anyone spittin' on his porch. He's out here ev'ry day, numerous times a day, with his broom sweepin', so's that he keeps the outside from coming inside his store.

"Yeah, well," I said, "she may be a bit funny lookin', as funny lookin' as I am, Mister, but I love her, as if she was one of them beaut'ful Afghan hound, show dawgs."

"I like dawgs, too," he said, "but I couldn't take a likin' to this strange lookin' an'mal. He looks like a--"

"He's not a he. She's a she."

"Say again? What's that?"

"My dawg's a she, Mister, and not a he," I said not wantin' him disrespectin' my dawg anymore than he already had by spittin' too close and now callin' Earth a he. Yes, Sir, if I had to tell him ten more times, he'd at least be gettin' her gender correct.

"Grrrr," growled Earth again.

Nearly every time Earth heard his voice, she'd growl a low growl. An'mals know bad people and she didn't like him for some reason. Maybe he just smelled bad to her, but I always pay attention to when Earth don't like someone. She's never wrong.

"With that ridge runnin' down her back like that and her yellow fur, I'd say she was a Ridgeback crossed with a Golden Retriever. Yep, for sure, that's what I'd say she was. I've seen dogs lookin' like that b'fore. Such a dog lookin' like that isn't worth the food to feed her. She'd never make for a proper huntin' dog with the Retriever in her. She'd be too gentle," he said spittin' again, but this time spittin' out in the street, instead on Harley's porch. I would have said somethin' 'bout not spittin' on Harley's porch had he spit on the porch again. I've never been shy 'bout speakin' my mind.

"Yeah, well, that's just your opinion, Mister. Besides, dependin' what it is your huntin' for, Retrievers make dang good huntin' dawgs, dang good huntin' dawgs, and so don't Rhodesian Ridgebacks. I'd say that I have the best of both breeds in this one dawg. Besides, this dawg is worth ev'rything to me," I said stickin' up for Earth and rubbin' her big, ol' head with one hand, while holding her with my other.

"Grrrr," growled Earth never removin' her eyes from the stranger. Oh, yeah, Earth was givin' him the dog eye, alright. Without doubt, if I let her go, she'd be on him like barn owl on a mouse.

"Seein' how big of an an'mal she is, as big any dawg I ever seed b'fore, and with her lookin' like a lion with all that yellow fur, I betcha she's a dawg that can go fetch a lion," he said with a loud laugh that made me want to take one of Hawley's shovels from outta the barrel and hit him with it myself.

I can now see why someone may have already done that to him. Unfortunately, not only didn't that shovel improve his looks but also it didn't give him anymore sense that he, no doubt, needed to shut his trap, b'fore being hit with a shovel again, I imagined.

"She's a good dawg," I said again holding Earth tighter by the collar, when she suddenly sat up, took more notice of the stranger, tried to pull from my grasp, and growled another low growl.

"Grrrrr," growled Earth.

Earth is the most gentle dawg I ever had. She don't growl at nobody for no reason, that is, unless she's chowin' down on her bone. That's the only time she reverts to her an'mal ways and gets a little testy, wild actually. Best you not put your hand by her mouth when she's chowin down on her bone, lest you wanna come away with some missin' fingers. Perceivin' me as her pack leader, she'd never bite me, of course, but I knowed 'nuff not to get between her and her bone.

Yet, dawgs know when confronted with a bad man. I pay attention, when Earth acts the way she just did. Her growlin' as if she knew the man was 'nuff reason for me not to like him. Yes, Sir, her growl perked my ears right up and I just knew there was somethin' wrong with this fella. If Earth didn't like him, then that was good 'nuff for me and I didn't like him none neither.

"You two make a good pair," he said makin' me rethink swingin' the shovel again. "You with no legs and her a misfit of a mutt," he said lookin' at me for a long minute. "How'd you lose your legs, anyway?"

Not that it was any of his bus'ness, but I didn't mind tellin' him. I'm friendly to folk, even to strangers. Yet, this fella put me on edge and I was careful what information I revealed to him.

"In an industr'al accident at the paper mill. I was movin' a roll of paper, walkin' with it, usin' one of those hydraulic lifts, when I lost my balance, fell, and the roll of paper landed on my legs and crushed them. It was a while, b'fore they could remove the roll off my legs. They had to come with the forklift, while being careful not to injure me anymore than I was. That roll of paper must have weighed closed to 2,000 pounds," I said scratching my head trying to remember and fortunately still not rememberin' the accident 'cause I was knocked unconscious.

"That must have hurt some," he said spittin' again in the street.

"Don't rightly remember much of the acc'dent. When I woke up in the hospital, my legs were gone."

"Probably for the best you don't have no recollection," he said.

"If I lost my legs in Eye-raq or that Afghan'stan, I'd be set for life with a monthly dis'bility check and Uncle Sam would have given me a trained dawg to help me get 'round, not that any dawg would be better than my dawg," I said rubbin' Earth with one hand, while holdin' her tight with the other. "For sure, she's the best dawg I ever had."

"Yep, for sure," he said spittin' in the street again. "They would have given you a pure bred dawg, instead of havin' to settle for this misfit of a mutt. If she were my dog, I'd be embarrassed to be seen with her."

Damn, if I had my legs, I'd stand up to this fella for disrespectin' Earth but Earth, as if understandin' every disrespectful word he was sayin', was keepin' him on his heels by tellin' him she didn't like him much with her low growls.

"Grrrr," she growled her low growl again, only a little louder this time and bearin' her teeth at him some. Never is when I've ever seen her act this way.

"Being that I couldn't do the job that I was doin' b'fore, my boss let me go, after I lost my legs. He said I couldn't work no more. He said I was nothin' but a li'bility and he feared I'd get hurt again workin' in a wheelchair," I said beginnin' to get a little angry. "If I had money 'nuff for one of them TV lawyers, I would have sued his ass for causin' my dis'bility and then for holdin' my dis'bility against me, so's that I couldn't work no more."

"I got a cousin in Raleigh that's a lawyer. He hangs 'round hospitals grabbin' up clients, right after their accident and signs them up, b'fore they can think straight. That's the way to do it, you know. He prob'bly could have gotten you some money."

"Yeah, well, they paid for all my med'cal and I got some insurance money outta it, too, 'nuff to live on for a while, so's long as I don't go on a spendin' spree. They even made me art'ficial legs, but I kept fallin' over. I couldn't walk with them so good. They just didn't feel right, unnat'ral, as if walkin' on stilts. Now, they just sit in the corner as a reminder that I lost those pieces of my body."

"That sure does suck that you lost your legs," he said, about the closest to an apology he'd ever make or sympathy he'd ever give.

"I get some money from Social Secur'ty, but not 'nuff to make me glad that I lost my legs and glad that I don't have to work no more," I said. "Now that I think some on it, I don't think there's any price I'd put on my legs. For sure, I'd rather have my legs than money. Besides, I liked workin'. Workin' put more money in my pocket, gave me somethin' to do, and kept my mind occupied."

"Yeah, well, life sucks and then you die," he said.

I could tell he wasn't one that wasted words on sympathy or took the time to apol'gize to those he disrespected. I wondered if he even thought 'bout what he was going to say b'fore he opened his mouth to say it.

"Yeah, well, there's a reason for everythin' and maybe had I not lost my legs, I may not have found my dawg. She's almost worth the loss of my legs. She's a good dawg," I said rubbin' her side with my free hand. Only, Earth was busy watchin' the stranger to take the time to lick my face like she always does.

"What's her name?"

"Earth," I said with pride. "Earth Day," I said puffin' out my chest that I was lucky to have such a great dawg that carried the name of the special day of the planet.

Here I am yappin' away with this stranger without an introduction, something I'd never do, if I lived in the city or if I liked this fella well 'nuff Yet, out here, where we don't get many strangers drivin' Dodge pickups and I'm sure he don't see many cripples with a dawg as beautiful as my Earth, we're always weary. Nonetheless, I was glad to share my story with him without even knowin' his name or who he was.

"Earth Day? What the Hell kind of name is that for a Dawg?"

"Grrrr," growled Earth.

"Easy girl," I said tuggin' on her collar. "It's an interestin' story how she came by that name. It wasn't me who named her, as it just kind of happened that way," I said still holdin' Earth by the collar.

As if she knew I saved her life, she's a loyal dog and is very protective of me, but I've never seen her act like this b'fore, growlin' at this man ev'ry time he spoke. I feared if I let her go, she'd go after this man and I already had a terrible sense what a bastard this fella could be. I feared he'd hit Earth with one of them shovels and kill her. She's all I have and I love her. I don't want anything happenin' to my dawg. With me havin' no legs, there'd be no way for me to stop him from killin' my dawg. So, I kept a good hold of her for both our protection.

"Yeah, sure, I could use a good tale," he said leanin' up against Harley's porch to watch a couple of cute, young things go by, Clem's daughter, Crystal and her friend, Tammy, Buck's daughter. He was more int'rested in their cute little behinds than he was in hearin' my story, that's for sure.

Only, don't let the men in town see you eyein' their daughters, I thought to myself. After that travelin' salesman knocked up Becky and mysteriously disappeared leavin' his Chrysler car behind, they don't take too kindly to strangers starin' at their womenfolk without havin' a proper introduction and meetin' the family first. Either this dude was lookin' for trouble or he didn't have the sense of my dawg.

"Well, Sir, once a week, I wheel 'round the dump lookin' for pre-owned merchandise that some may call junk. As if panhandlin' for gold, I call it workin' the dump. I fix what's broken and paint what needs paintin'. Then, I sell all that I have to city slickers that come to the county fair lookin' to buy antiques at a bargain," I said.

"Ha, ha, now that sounds like somethin' I'd do, if I had the time to do it," he said with another laugh.

"If they only knew the stuff I sell them was from the town dump, they'd want their money back. Yet, I fix things up real good to either make them look nearly new or as used as would an authentic antique. Most folk don't know the diff'rence and are just tickled to think they got the better of me and got a bargain. They think just 'cause I'm a disabled, I'm retarded, too," I said. "They're happy they got a bargain and I'm happy I got their money. I'm just as good with negotiatin' as I am with repairin' things that need repairin'."

"It's good you found a side cash bus'ness with you being a cripple and all."

"You'd be surprised the stuff people throw out and some of the good stuff I find," I said ignorin' his need to call me a cripple. It's one thing for me to call myself a cripple but another thing for a stranger to call me a cripple. I didn't like that one bit. "I nearly furnished my whole house with the stuff I found the dump. Last year, on Earth Day, my dawg was my best find. Yes Sir, I never found anything as good as this dawg," I said pattin' Earth with one hand, while holdin' her steady with my other. "No, Sir, in all the stuff I found there, I never found anythin' better than her, that's for sure."

"It figures you found your dawg in the dump. There's nothin' but rats, diseases, and Gawd awful lookin' dogs at the dump," he said with an ugly laugh.

"Well, Sir, I beg to differ with you," I said. "I found her at the dump and she's a fine lookin' an'mal to me. I wouldn't trade her for any of those pedigree show dawgs that they prance 'round on TV."

"Yeah, so, does this story have an end to it? I need to buy some things in the store," he said lookin' at his watch with impatience.

"Well, Sir, to be honest, the only bad thing about this story is that it doesn't have a proper endin', just a beginnin' and a middle, in the fact that I found her, named her, and now we're together," I said with a warm smile, while lookin' down at Earth sittin' like a statue and givin' the stranger the dog eye.

"So, how'd you find her? Was she just hangin' 'round the dump lookin' for food and eatin' trash?"

"No, Sir, she was in a box with seven other puppies, must have been her brothers and sisters, and I was excited when I saw that box full of puppies. I have room 'nuff to have given them all a home. Then, when I looked closer and waved all them flies away, them other puppies were all dead. She was the only one still alive but was fixin' to be dead, soon, if I didn't get her outta the hot sun and give her some water," I said wipin' a tear from my eye and takin' out my handkerchief to blow my nose.

"Ah, for Christ sakes. It's just a box of friggin' misfit puppies, not even real dawgs," he said waving a hand. "A dawg lookin' like her is better off dead, anyways."

"You're a cold one, Mister, 'cause when I saw all those dead puppies, they broke my heart. I'm not a man that easily cries, but I was sobbin' like a woman, when I saw all those poor, little, dead puppies," I said lookin' down at Earth. "In how she was so tiny then and so big now, no one would believe this is the same dawg," I said rubbin' her head and pattin' her side with my free hand, while still holdin' onto her collar with my other. "Why someone would throw a box of cute, little puppies in a dump is beyond me. If I knew the bastard, I'd take a shovel to his face."

"So," he said rubbin' his chin, as if rememberin' somethin'. "There were eight of them misfit dawgs in a box, huh?"

"Yes, Sir. She was the sole survivor and the runt of the litter from what I could see," I said slowly shakin' my head side to side. "It looked like she had been there a while, too, as she had already started gnawin' and eatin' some off her sisters and brothers to survive. Now, look at her. She's bigger than any Rhodesian Ridgeback I've ever seen."

"I can understand you takin' pity on a puppy but, I'm just sayin', once she growed into such an ugly dawg, I'd sooner take her out back and shoot her than keep her and have to feed her. By the huge size of her, she's a waste of good dog food."

"Grrrr," growled Earth, even louder this time, while snarlin' and bearin' her teeth, as if she understood what he had just said.

"She does look a bit funny, a Rhodesian Ridgeback havin' all this yellow fur from a Golden Retriever and that strange lookin' tail is a sorrowful sight. All that's missin' is a mane and she'd sure 'nuff look like a lion. Only, if you ask me 'bout my dawg, Mister, I think she's a splendid an'mal, being that I'm partial to her and lovin' her in the way I do. To me, she's a real beauty. I guess you could say that she's my beauty and the beast in one dawg," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, judgin' by her looks, if this was my dawg, not to say that I'd ever own a deformed an'mal like her, being that you found her in the dump, I would have named her Landfill or Dumpster, instead of Earth Day. Yeah, Dumpster fits her better. I kind of like that name for her," he said with another Gawd awful laugh.

"Grrrrrr," growled Earth, this time more violently.

"Easy girl. Easy."

As if she recognized his laugh, ev'ry time he laughed like that, rearin' up on her hind legs, Earth went wild and it took all the strength that I had to hold her. It's a good thing that I had the thought to set the handbrake on my wheelchair. From pushin' my chair 'round for years, my shoulders, arms, and hands were plenty strong enough to keep my dawg off him, but it was more than a bit peculiar that Earth wanted to eat this man. I couldn't help but take notice of how my dawg didn't like this man and for some reason or another, I felt the same way.