The bond between humans and their canine companions is often profound, shaping our lives in ways we might not initially realize. This is a story that explores the enduring connection a woman feels to her dog, Sparky, even after years of separation and a perceived tragic end. It highlights how love and memory can create powerful narratives, sometimes even overriding logic and practicalities, especially in the unique context of a small town veterinarian’s practice where the lines between ordinary and extraordinary can blur. [This narrative delves into the emotional landscape of pet ownership.]
The tale unfolds in a small Wyoming town during a harsh winter. Dr. Kevin O’Neall, a veterinarian, finds himself in a debate with a persistent client, Mrs. Barney, who is convinced she has seen her dog, Sparky, who supposedly died fifteen years prior, alive and well. Mrs. Barney recounts a vivid encounter at a Gas-N-Eat on the interstate, where she claims Sparky, now an old dog, recognized her. The veterinarian, grounded in the realities of canine lifespan, struggles to reconcile her story with biological facts. He gently explains that dogs typically do not live to be thirty-eight years old, a fact Mrs. Barney dismisses by citing an instance of an exceptionally long-lived dog. Her insistence stems from a belief that her ex-husband, during their divorce, may have abandoned Sparky rather than euthanizing him, suggesting the dog might have survived. However, the vet points out that even if Sparky had survived abandonment, he would be well past a typical dog’s lifespan.
The veterinarian’s attempts to reason with Mrs. Barney prove futile. Frustrated, he suggests she contact the sheriff’s office, a suggestion she rejects, believing they would not take her seriously. Her emotional distress is evident as she leaves, repeating, “My dog, my dog.”
Later that evening, the veterinarian, returning home through a snowstorm, learns of a tragic accident. A pickup truck, after leaving a diner without paying, slid off an icy interstate and plunged down a forty-foot cliff. The sheriff, interviewed on the news, confirms the driver was found deceased at the scene. He speculates that the driver may have lost control while attempting to maneuver around another vehicle, which may have inadvertently pushed his car towards the edge. The other driver, obscured by the blizzard, did not stop, and it’s suggested they may not have realized the extent of the collision. [The perilous conditions of winter driving are underscored by this incident.]
The following morning, the storm has abated, leaving the town blanketed in snow. At the clinic, the veterinarian prepares for his first appointment: a routine physical for a new patient. Upon entering the examination room, he is greeted by an unusually happy and energetic Shih-Tzu, its tail wagging and panting with excitement. The dog, with its distinctive bushy eyebrows and long whiskers, appears young, with perfect white teeth. Its eager gaze and friendly demeanor are captivating. As the veterinarian scratches the dog’s ear, he glances at the chart, noting the owner’s name: Gayle Barney. Then, he sees Mrs. Barney sitting in the corner, a faint smile on her face.
Mrs. Barney looks up and says, “My dog.” [The narrative concludes with a poignant affirmation of the enduring bond between Mrs. Barney and her dog, leaving the reader to contemplate the nature of memory, love, and perhaps, a touch of canine resilience that transcends ordinary expectations.]
Copyright ©1998 Kevin O’Neall. All Rights Reserved. Please contact the editor for free text versions of this very short story formatted for e-mail, usenet news, or ftp.
