The woman who bought Sportin’ Life changed her mind and returned her. I put her in a corral in front of the barn and one morning I found Pig lying with her, back to back, snoring.
I rode her out like I used to. The dogs ran with us over the hills where she had been so spooked years ago, the day Pig moved in. We trotted down the deep sand wash where the red-tailed hawk had scared her. She moved past cactus and logs with perfect assurance. Somewhere out there, I noticed that Huck had turned back.
The night Huck died, Bern and I sat reading, dogs sprawled on our laps and chairs and sofa. No longer able to climb onto the furniture, Huck lay on his pillow on the floor.
One at a time, each dog approached him, looked into his eyes, and bowed. When Dodi bowed, he growled, barely audible, until she rolled over.