A Little Hair of the Dog

By Jane McBride

27 year old Andalusia Bixby is still reeling from the sudden death of her father, with whom she had lived all of her life. The young Mormon woman decides to go back home, to the small town of her childhood in Western New York on the banks of the Erie Canal.
Being reunited with old friends and meeting new ones is just the injection of hope for a real future she needed. One thing she did not expect was that she would encounter a very special orphan, or that she would adopt him. He is two years old. His name is Henry. He weighs almost 200 pounds. He is an unusually large Great Dane. She has never had a dog-indeed, has never had so much as a hamster in her life. During her journey of learning how to be a good mother to her new dog, she meets someone else who needs her-a reclusive and bitter young man who has sworn off other people, permanently

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jane McBride
• Release date: Nov 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311052629

Jane McBride

Jane McBride was born in Rochester, New York and grew up in a small town called Medina in Western New York in an old farm house. The house, barn and yard allowed for a constant flow and supply of all kinds of different animals who were cherished and loved to the elderly ends of their long lives. She joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1986 and served a mission to Oregon from 1990-1991. She met her husband during that time and they now live in Taylorsville, UT with their two little boys and a whole bunch of animals. She is the author of A Little Hair of the Dog, Reigning Cats and Dogs, The Cats and the Cradle and Cat's Got His Tongue in The Ann and Henry series, as well as Down Ballantyne Road and Asylum song in the Alice and Porkbelly series.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I opened the door and we walked into an apparently empty bedroom. Our noses were immediately assaulted by one of Mother Nature’s most imaginative, yet horrible, smells.

Kell said, Sheesh, was that you?

Indignant, I said, Why, yes Kell, I have SUCH bad gas that the worst of the farts have taken to going on ahead of me to save time.

Wha-- she started to say, but I didn’t get to hear the rest. The true source of the smell was literally upon us. I couldn’t have been more surprised when the most enormous dog I had ever seen charged out of the closet, reared like a stallion and placed its front paws squarely on Kell’s shoulders.

You always blame me for everything, I whined, as she staggered under the dog’s weight and tried to keep her balance.

Ann Bixby, you get him off me right now!

Oh, he seems friendly enough, I offered lamely, while hovering anxiously near the duo. I had never had a dog of my own, and was a little baffled over the best course of action.

Mrs. Cotter! I hollered as I went out into the hall and looked down the stairs. Wasn‘t the house supposed to be empty?

I went back into the room and watched with no small amusement as the huge friendly animal panted happily into my friend’s face. By necessity, she had her arms around him, and I thought they made a lovely couple.

I think he wants me to lead, she gasped, trying to lift the 180 pound dog off of herself. I heard Mrs. Cotter puffing up the stairs, and she managed to wheeze, I was going to mention--to mention, not to open--door…I turned around and you had gone upstairs. Henry?

Yeah, we found Henry! Now the question is, what do we do with him?

Mrs. Cotter came panting like a lizard into the room and the chubby little real estate lady and I got on either side of Henry and hauled. Burden removed, Kell ducked and staggered to the wall and made a slow descent to the floor.

You ok? I asked unsympathetically from Henry’s side.

I’m just great! You know, I said I would look at houses with you-HOUSES! Not horses. She wiped drool off her face with her sleeve. UGH!

Actually, you know, I think he’s a dog.

Of course he’s a dog! Mrs. Cotter had slid down the wall and was sitting on the floor next to Kell. This was done to interesting effect, given that she was wearing a flowing pink caftan which made her look like a cloud of pink cotton candy.

I have always felt funny if I was the only one in a room standing (even Henry was seated now), and so I sank down to the floor next to the dog. Well, what was he doing in here?

Ooooh! She blew the sound out like a bellows.  I don’t know. I just don’t know!

I looked at her, bemused, and exchanged a look with Kell. What do you mean, you don’t know? Is he yours?

No! I mean, well, yes, but not really. I waited. He’s my daughter’s dog.

Velda?

Vera!

Uh, whatever. So what are you babysitting him or something?

Well, if you call four weeks of torture babysitting, then yes. She got him two years ago. One of her whims. Now she has gone off to find herself. She left him at my house, and said any grandmother would jump at the chance to take care of their grandchild full time.

Gone off to find herself? Has she had any luck? I remembered Verna from school, and from what I remember of her, if she was trying to find herself, she had a long trip ahead of her. Vera. Whatever.

The subject of this conversation, upon closer examination, was a Great Dane. Grey, with black spots. I had never seen such a big dog up close. His head was the size of a blacksmith’s anvil. I can say that because I had seen one once in a done over blacksmith’s shop, and this head was definitely of a size with it. I was to find out later (thank you Wikipedia) that being grey with black spots made him a merle Great Dane. I was sitting next to him on the floor, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to drape my arm around his neck. He was calm now, and regarded us all in turn with friendly intelligent eyes that seemed to say he knew we were talking about him.

I can’t take any more, Mrs. Cotter wheezed. I realized the poor woman was actually near tears. I found out the first day that I couldn’t leave him alone in my house. You should a seen… She waved her hand as though it was too awful for words.  I found out the second day that I couldn’t leave him out in the yard, either. He had climbed the fence and when I got home, he had been terrorizing the neighborhood.

Him? He’s a doll! I exclaimed.

Oh, he’s a treasure, muttered Kell with characteristic eye roll. Sarcasm was her specialty.

Oh, he’s gentle enough [rude noise from Kell], but people don’t know that! They just see  a huge monster, loose! My neighbors were ready to sue me for the future costs their cats and normal sized dogs would need for therapy for the rest of their natural lives. I didn’t know what to do.  I started bringing him with me to houses. At first I left him in the car. But now it’s getting too hot for that. I usually think to tell clients not to open any closed doors. He’s really a good dog, stays quiet, so it’s worked fairly well.  Even if I were able to get rid of him, who’s gonna take him? And besides, Vera would kill me. But she doesn’t answer her phone! I don’t even know where she went! She’s never been gone this long before, and I’m afraid she’s giving me permanent custody! I‘m telling you, I can‘t do it much longer!

I looked over at Henry, and he chose that moment to look me right in the face. We came to an instant understanding.

Mrs. Cotter, I’m going to have to add a small detail to my requirements for a house. I need one with a large yard and a tall fence. I’ll take him with me right now.

Kell’s jaw dropped to the floor. Have you forgotten that you are staying with ME right now? There was that.

I leapt nimbly up and gestured at our fluffy pink cloud. Kell took the hint, and we got on either side of Mrs. Cotter and hauled.

~~~

You were going to stand there laughing while I was getting flattened!

I was not! If I thought you had been in any real danger, I would have…gone for help immediately.

Ann, you know I love dogs, I’m a dog person. But that… Kell sputtered.

Well, that explains why he chose you at first and not me. He knew you were a dog person. It was only later that he realized it was he and I that were simpatico.

Simpatico.  Why is it that you know words like that but can’t remember someone’s name you just heard three seconds ago?

That is a good question. I can’t answer it. But I am devoted to my Word-A-Day calendar. And of course, there‘s Wiki…

Don’t you start on no Wikipedia again. I’m amazed he fit in the back seat.

Me too. It is an awfully small car.

Don’t you start on my car. It’s a perfectly normal sized car, especially when I’m only one person and do NOT own a big dog.

VW Beetles are not exactly what you could call a normal sized car.

Well, THAT is not a normal sized dog.

SHH! He was in the backseat, looking unconcerned and enjoying the view out the window. He’ll hear you. I don’t want him developing any complexes. He was already abandoned, he doesn’t need self-esteem issues.

At that moment, he audibly passed gas and we all hung on as Kell tried not veer off the road. I had to admit, he had a unique malodorous quality, the likes of which I had never before encountered.

I wonder what my parents are going to say about it, she said, gasping, and we quickly rolled down our windows.

Well, you guys have always had dogs, maybe they won’t mind, I murmured, uncertain now.

Well, I guess we’ll see.

Once we pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, Henry greeted Kell’s surprised father in the same way he had greeted her. They fell over into a pile of fresh cut grass.

Chapter 2

Kell lived on the outskirts of town with her parents. She had gotten out of high school, graduated from the local college, and had never left home. She wasn’t what you would call a typical failure to launch, though. The whole set up was completely amenable to all parties. In fact, none of them even seemed to notice that she was still there at a time when she might not have been. She had a job, paid her own way, did what she wanted, and provided most of the groceries for the house. Her mother cooked and cleaned, her retired father kept the house and yard maintained, and everyone was happy.

Kell was an only child and had been christened Kellen. Her father was a balding white man of medium height named Keith, and her mother was a petite and lovely African American lady named Helen. Having been enamored with each other, they had named her after themselves. Had she been a boy, his name would have been Heath. She had decided early on that she didn’t like the constant reminder that she was the biological result of two people named Keith and Helen, and had begun answering only to Kell. She had short curly brown hair and took after her mother in size, though a little taller. She had light chocolate colored skin I had always envied.

I had actually known her since the first grade. My parents had introduced her parents to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which had set a ball rolling in our town that neither of my parents could believe until either of their dying days. But, more about that later.

I had grown up here, in Charlestown, and now, in a way, I was running back to it. When I was 15 years old, my beloved mother had died of cancer at the age of 45. My father eventually decided he couldn’t bear to stay in the house and home where she had been, and a year after her death we moved from the village of Charlestown, one of the ports on the bank of the Erie Canal in Western New York, to Eastern Oregon, where he had some family. We wound up living in an even smaller village which seemed to be about a thousand miles from anywhere. Including my father and myself, there were exactly six LDS families living there. The nearest real Church building was over 100 miles away. Three families before, they had been taking turns meeting in each other’s houses. By the time we got there, a very small Church building had been erected.

It was the kind of a building that must have come out of a kit. It looked almost like a metal barn from the outside. Inside, was a large open area with a stand and a pulpit at the end and the place had a grand total of about thirty folding chairs. At the end of Sacrament meeting, it was each individual’s job to hang onto their own chairs and direct themselves in the right direction while dividing curtains were slid out from the walls. It took about thirty seconds flat to divide the large room into smaller classrooms. It was actually pretty handy. The downside was that during young women’s and Sunday School classes, the booming voice of Brother Holmes always seemed to carry right through those thin walls and we often wound up listening to his lesson instead of our own.

Our Church has several of what you would call auxiliary organizations. The adult women, adult men, girls age 12-18, boys age 12-18, and children under the age of 12 each have their own organization in each ward. A ward is our word for a local congregation. A very small local congregation is called a branch. There are also Sunday School groups organized by age only. The adult Sunday School, the youth, and the children. Including myself, when my father and I had moved to the tiny village which was inexplicably named Warner’s Corners, there had been four Young Women. I was the oldest from the day we moved there.

When I entered Young Women’s at 12 years old, I had already memorized the Young Women values and the colors that represented them. The color of Divine Nature is blue. It reminds me always that I am a daughter of God. Individual Worth is red. It reminds me that I am of great worth, and so are those around me. Knowledge is green, Choice and Accountability is orange. They are all important to me, but that one was always my favorite. I make my own choices, I am responsible for them. Always do the right thing, and I knew I wouldn’t go wrong in the end. Good Works is yellow. Integrity is purple, and to me went hand in hand with Choice and Accountability. Virtue is gold. This last one always seemed to resonate with my parents, but I didn’t really appreciate it fully until I got older. Whenever I see any of these colors, I am reminded of who I am, what I am, why I am here, and to always do the right thing. Also at age 12, my mother had helped me begin my Personal Progress, a program similar to the Boy Scouts. A completion of a girl’s personal progress is comparable to a boy getting his Eagle Scout.

Now, Young Women’s was behind me, though its lessons would stay with me forever. I would need them, and everything else my parents had ingrained into me, for now I was 27 years old and I would have to make it on my own. My father had died, too. One moment, he seemed perfectly fine, and the next, he was gone. He had dropped over from a massive heart attack while building a birdhouse in his garage workshop. I had come out and found him. The doctors had reassured me that it was instantaneous, but I was devastated. I think that maybe as long as at least one of your parents is still alive, there is a part of you that doesn’t have to grow up. I’d always had someone there to stand between me and the darkness, but now, I was alone. I knew I’d be with him and my mother again, but that knowledge just didn’t do much to assuage the gaping wound of his absence. I have a very dear Aunt that lives there, but I still decided almost immediately not to stay. I quit my job, sold everything, and went back to the town where I was born. I went home. I had also made the arrangements after my father‘s funeral to have his remains transported back to Charlestown, to be buried with my mother.

Since I had practically lived in Kell’s house (until I was 16, anyway), it seemed completely natural to stay with them until I figured out where I wanted to live, and they wouldn’t have had it any other way. Once they got over the initial shock of having a 180-pound dog thrust upon them as a houseguest, they surprised me a little by being delighted. Henry was a charmer, no doubt about that. They were the most easy going people I’ve ever known, but accepting a gigantic intruder was beyond what I could have hoped.

Besides, as it turned out, Keith was in love-with Henry. He began after the first day to spend hours in the back yard with the dog, training him. He already knew sit and was just generally smart. He quickly learned stay, heel, shake and beg. After one morning session early in May, Helen asked me if I would call the boys in for lunch. As Henry slurped and slobbered over his water bowl, Keith raved about his progress and indicated he would have a surprise for me in the future. I sent my dog back out into the yard, dripping and drooling, with his bowls, so the rest of us could eat, too. A Great Dane with a dripping wet face is not an attractive dinner companion, believe me. Keith was excited.

Boy, that dog is a smart one. He picks up everything I show him, right off the bat. I’m gonna show him some harder stuff. We’re working on one right now, and there’s another one I need to think on, how to do it. One I heard they teach dogs in the military. I raised my eyebrows at that, but he laughed and said, Don’t worry, I’m not teachin’ him to shoot!

You don’t know how to shoot anyways. his wife countered. He laughed and kissed her on the cheek.

After lunch I went out and played in the backyard with Henry until we were both pooped. I settled down on the deck in a lawn chair with a book, and he alternated between stretching out next to me and patrolling the perimeter. A loud crash from the yard next door brought us both to our feet, and being naturally nosy--er, a concerned citizen, I stood up and peered over the fence into the neighboring yard. Several twenty-something guys were carrying stuff in through the back door of the house, and one of them had apparently dropped his load right on top of several metal garbage cans. The others were calling him things I won’t repeat and one of them was sweeping up glass. Another looked furtively around and spotted me.

Everyone all right? That was quite a crash. He just waved casually at me and turned away. I basically shrugged and tried to forget about it, but there was something unsettling about the way he had looked around, like he was hoping no one had heard.

We went back inside and I found Helen unloading the dishwasher, so I moved to help.

Who lives next door? I asked, nodding in the direction of the house.

Hm, well, it was empty a while. It was for sale a long time, didn’t sell. I think they decided to rent it out. Some boys moved in there a few weeks ago. College kids, maybe?

I just wondered, I saw them in the back yard.

That night, I was reading before going to sleep, as usual, and there was a knock at my door. Kell came in and saw me, perched precariously in a sliver of space at the edge of the bed, Henry sprawled carelessly over the rest, and said, Well, uh, you’ll never get a man that way.  

Ha ha. Now’s not the time for a man, sorry. Besides, if I ever get a man, I’ll get Henry his own king sized bed. I need to get a car, too.

Why are you letting him sleep with you, maybe that’s a bad habit or something.

He has separation anxiety.

She plopped down on a tiny corner of the bed and roughly patted the huge head. Doesn’t look to me like he has any anxiety of any kind.

Well, admit it, you like him.

I like him, I like him. Eye roll. What are you doing tomorrow?

Uh, well, I guess I’ll start by calling Barbara Cotter and see if she has anything.

You have looked at so many places, what gives? You don’t like ‘em?

I dropped my book on the floor and said, I don’t know. Nothing’s felt right to me. I keep thinking when I get into the right house, it’s going to jump up and say, ‘I’m the one’ or something, and I’ll know.

Well, you know you can stay here as long as you want. She grabbed Henry around the neck and rested her head on his. Not to mention when you leave, my Dad’ll be devastated and you’ll have to give him regular visitation with this mutt. Knowing him, he’ll probably run out and get a Great Dane of his own, or a horse or a llama or something.

Your Mom would be thrilled.

Yeah right.

Well, she does love Henry.

Yeah, I know. Well, bed time, I guess. See you tomorrow. Oh, don‘t forget, choir practice tomorrow night!

Eye roll from me now. I don‘t know why this girl constantly insisted that I could, or that I even should, sing. The choir director had assured me that I shouldn‘t worry about it. I didn‘t have to sing well, just loud. That, I could do. Ok, night.

Night Henry.

The thick whip of a tail pounded a couple of times on the bed in response, and she went out.

You know, she is right about one thing. You are awfully hard to sleep with. I need a little more room than this. His head was at the foot of the bed, and I stood and lifted all four feet, intending to flip him like a big pancake. He assumed a passive aggressive stance and went into what I have come to call Limp Dog Mode. This attitude is useful when you don’t want to go into the vet’s office, into the bath, and in this case, when you don’t want to give up any of your comfortable space on the bed. I managed to move him enough to give myself a coffin sized area and slid in after switching off the light.

Chapter 3

Kell’s family home was on the very outskirts of the town. They lived in the country but had neighbors, and were within walking distance of the village at the same time. Everyday Henry and I would walk, at least once, into the town, and we both enjoyed it very much. Sometimes we walked straight down the center of town and went up Main Street, where he never failed to find admirers. Other days we cut over into the residential areas and just roamed around. It was while we were on one of those jaunts that we found the Tipples. Most of the yards were kept up very nicely, but we came upon one that was perfect. It was a little white house, with grass that was like a carpet, and perfectly trimmed (I’d always wondered how people get it that way). There were rose bushes of many colors along the side and pretty little trimmed hedges along the front. There were a few little bushes in the yard itself.

As I stood admiring the neat little place, I noticed that on the porch was one of those red hatted gnomes people put around their gardens and yards. This one was bigger than most of the ones I had seen. It had been cleverly positioned so that it looked as though he was peeking through the spindles at passersby.  Sometimes I do strange things spontaneously. I call these my funny turns. I can be going along perfectly normally and the strangest things and ideas pop into my head unbidden. Suddenly I took a funny turn and tentatively stepped onto the grass. We slowly crossed the short distance over the yard and I peeked back at the gnome.

I said, Hey there, little guy.

Hiya Honey! said the gnome.

GAH! was all I could manage as I stumbled backwards and fell over a bush.

Henry said, OPE OPE OPE!  I think it was not so much concern for me in  my ignominious position on my backside as it was concern that I might be trying to desert him at this terrible time. 

Now the large gnome was a little man at the top of the steps, hopping up and down, cackling with glee. After a few more moments of this, he settled down enough to wipe tears off his face and say, Oh, Honey! Honey, that’s the best…hee hee hee…best reaction I ever got!

Just as Henry was pulling me back to my feet, an elderly, normal sized woman came out the front door.  Bespectacled and be-aproned, she was the epitome of someone’s baking Grandmother.

Why, what… she began. Have you been at it again, Mister? I swear, today is the day I am gonna throw out that hat! You’re gonna give someone a coronary one of these times! And then, to me, You all right honey?

Do you mean to say, I said, brushing myself off, that I was not your first?

This sent the little man into another paroxysm of laughter. No, you are not my first! But you are the first who has come across the yard, looked straight back at me, and said ‘Howdy!’ to me!

The woman was now looking at me with new eyes, no doubt wondering about my sanity.

Well, I… I realized I really didn’t know what had made me approach and speak to what I thought was tacky garden statuary. I couldn’t explain, so I introduced myself and Henry instead.

I’m Ann Bixby, and this is Henry. I actually grew up here, we moved to Oregon when I was 16. I decided I wanted to move back after my father died.

You Walter Bixby’s little girl? said the gnome.

Yes, I said, surprised.  Did you know my family?

Yup! We’re the Tipples. This is my wife, Ellen. I‘m sorry to hear about Walt. When did it happen?

Oh, back in January. He had a massive heart attack. He died instantly. As I said this, I involuntarily reached my hand slightly into empty air. Whenever I think about that day, I always remember the feeling of finding him laid out, knowing he was gone.

Ellen said, Here, come on up and sit, both of you. I’ll be right back. She went inside without waiting for a response from me.

I wondered if she would come back out with a tray of lemonade or something. We stepped up onto the porch, and now the man really did look small. I don’t think he came up to Henry’s chin. I pushed back a mad desire to laugh as I noticed he was wearing a little green shirt. I wonder if he dresses as a leprechaun for St. Patrick‘s day, I thought. I sat in one of the chairs at the little round table there, and he clambered up and sat too. 

I knew your Dad. Worked with him at the pickle place all them years.

The light bulb switched on, and unthinking, I said, You’re Tom Thumb?

He laughed like a, well, like a jolly old elf and said, Yup! That’s me!

I remember you now. I used to see you at the picnics and stuff. And my Dad used to talk about you. You were friends. Quite a character. Obviously. Something I always wondered…

Go ahead, he giggled. I’ve heard it all!

Well, when you were born, did your parents know that you, uh… I wasn’t sure of the current politically correct term.

That I was a Person of Short Stature?  Yeah, I know, not supposed to say midget anymore. I grew up with that word. My parents told me, that’s what people are gonna call you, get used to it. But now they come up with this other term that’s a lot better. I was real small, but you know some kids are born small, so it was hard to tell for sure ‘til I started getting older. Nowadays, I guess they can tell the parents everything there is to know about their kid before it’s ever born. But 62 years ago, ya took what ya got, and that was better, too. By the time you could really see something was going on with me, the kids were already calling me Tom Thumb.

Didn’t that seem mean? Did that bother you?

"Well, it was my mother. She told me from the time I can remember that I was the same as anyone, I could do anything anyone else could do, ceptin’ maybe play football.  I mean, they wouldn‘t a needed a ball, they coulda throwed me! She