This creature showed up. Literally came out of the woods. Very shy but friendly — looking for some petting. Skinny — ribs showing skinny — with recent bite marks on her legs that didn’t look too bad. Nothing that looked too serious. The puncture wound in her side wasn’t noticeable at first. We didn’t find that until quite a bit later. But no infection.

Nevertheless, I did not want a dog.

“No dogs”, I told James… “we can’t have a dog right now. Too much going on. Too much to do. She has to belong to someone and she needs to go home.”

Even though James sounded like he agreed and said he agreed… well.

After a couple of hours we had to go to the store for supplies, so we got in the truck, backed slowly out, making sure she wasn’t close to the truck and… left her there.

She watched as we moved down the driveway, walking toward us with anticipation but not getting too close.

Once on the road, I looked back in the mirror… she had stepped out a tiny bit into the road and watched us drive away.

I tried not to look back. The look on her face was a bit heartbreaking if I let it be. I worked at not letting it be.

Ok, I had to look back to see if she’d head back into the woods but otherwise NO, I didn’t look back… that much.

While at the store, I bought some dog food but nothing serious.

Hey, the dog might not even be there when we get back. And if she was, she could have a bowl of food and go home. So far, she wasn’t leaving so we might as well give her a meal, right?

When it was time for us to go — if no one came to get their dog — we could take her to the local shelter and they could have the bag of food. Win, win.

We got back to the property — a piece of raw, undeveloped land — and there she was sitting in the driveway waiting.

We pulled in and continued unloading the supplies and the tractor and the various items we came from St. Louis, to deliver before winter. It was October, and the coolness was already in the air. The dog stayed beside one of us the entire time.

We rolled the tractor off the trailer and the dog stayed right beside the front wheels, watching and running alongside. She stood there waiting as we unloaded implements and then walked with us to put them altogether i the back of the wood pile.

As we tidied up the newly cleared area, she wandered along, jumping and running around like she was herding us. I have to admit it was quite a display of happiness.

As evening fell… the coyotes started howling and neighbor dogs were barking. The coyotes were up in the canyon so nothing to worry about. The neighbor’s dogs were another matter but they would soon settle down and go home for dinner… hopefully.

James, who is a dyed-in-the-wool firebug, made a fire and we had a bite to eat. The dog got her bowl of kibble and we all huddled around the fire until the time came to head for the hay — as my dad used to say.

James put some cardboard on the ground with an old blanket on top and the dog curled up next to the last embers of the fire as we headed for the van a few feet away.

At 3am.

A pack of dogs were barking — closer than they should be — and we both woke up.

James sat up in bed. He leaned over and grabbed my gun, out of my shoulder bag and climbed out of the van slamming the door shut behind him.

A minute or two passed as the barking continued. I heard a shot. Then another.

The dogs stop yapping. The coyotes went silent. Everything went silent. 

And then…

tap! tap! tapp!!!

I look up from where I was laying on a mattress on the floor of our van and the ‘dog’ was at the window. Paws on the glass. Peering in. I think I hear, please let me in!!! Probably just in my head.

We don’t need a dog I mutter under my breath as I open the door. Cold air rushed into the van along with a shivering 35 pound puppy and suddenly I’m covered with dog curling up in my lap and pressing her body into my chest.

I close the door, wrap my arms around her and wait for James to come back.

Right about the time I had decided to climb out and go find him in the dark, in the middle of the night — since I had not heard one other thing since the gun shots… the door opens delivering another blast of cold air as he climbs back in.

“I fired into the ground to make the dogs retreat. They were coming up the driveway. They ran off… so that’s done”, he said putting my gun back in place. “No person or animal was injured but some leaves and rotting logs are a little worse for wear”, he said as he got back under the covers.

I’m still sitting up with the ‘dog’ in my lap.

“What do we do with this?”, I ask pointing in the dark to the fur covered ‘dog’ that we really, really didn’t have time OR room for.

“We can’t put her back outside” he said, “those dogs were coming for her. I think they’ve been beating up on her. You want to put her back out? Because I’ll put her back out… if you want.”

Sigh…

“Just until morning” I say. “We can’t have a dog. You know that.”

“Right” he says pulling covers under his chin..

“Just until morning. Then you have to go home.” I tell the ‘dog’.

I lay back down and shortly the three of us fell off to sleep.

I wake up in the morning.

James is up against the side of the van. I’m up against the other side. The ‘dog’ is between us completely passed out. On her back. Paws up. Eyes closed. 35 pounds of cargo we need like a hole-in-the-head.

Later that day, while the dog is sticking to both of us like glue everywhere we went throughout the property, I pick up a branch to carry it to the fire pit for the evening fire. The branch is about 20 feet long. Fairly thin. As I’m walking toward the fire pit, the branch suddenly feels lighter….

How odd!

I turn to look back and the dog has picked up the other end in her mouth and is carrying it with me like a little soldier with her feet popping up off the ground — with such pride!… all the way to fire pit, where she drops it and looks at me.

That was NOT fair!

James was smitten the moment she arrived. I knew that even though he tried to hide it. I wasn’t so easy for her to win. I didn’t want a dog.

NO DOG!

And then she carried that branch.

I took off my gloves and started walking toward James. When I reached him my gloves were now folded neatly in one hand and I shook the empty fingers of those gloves at him.

“She stinks” I said — now shaking the empty fingers at the dog.

He looked at her and then back at me… “Yeah. She’s been living rough. She was probably abandoned out here. Left for the coyotes.”

“Well,” I said with resolve, “she needs a bath before she gets in the van again.”

As I walked away I could feeeeeeel him smiling.

He called out after me as I was heading for more firewood… “her name is Bella. She told me earlier.”

Bella — the aforementioned dog — is now 10 pounds heavier (45 pounds), a few inches longer and taller taking up even more room. She’s smart — too smart.

A constant source of laughter… and of course aggravation.

Bella has moved in and we now live with her.