Pups for Sale
Short Fiction
Billy was a good dog. Ask anyone who knew him. If you were to ask me, I’d tell you he was the best dog to have walked this Earth.
I bought Billy from a local farmer who was selling the mutts for cheap. All he wanted was fifty bucks, a couple of cold beers, and a chance to “hear my story.” I must have sold it to him that hot summer night because I left his place with the pup tucked in the crook of my arm. (I left with a bit of a gut ache, too – those two beers turned into ten quick.)
I never had any family. No wife, no kids, no anything, really – till Billy came along. I’d heard about the “Pups for Sale” in an ad in the paper and figured my life could use a bit of light. It’s funny how a single moment, a single decision, can change your course.
My days brightened. They took on meaning again. I stopped drinking within a week – in fact, I dumped every bottle down the drain. Watched Jack and Jim and Jose swirl away into nothing at all. Scrubbed the sink clean and recycled the bottles, too.
After work, Billy and I would hit the trails behind the house that led to the river. We’d play fetch or he’d sit next to me as I fished till dark, then we’d amble home. On my days off, we climbed the highest peaks in our region or canoed across lazy lakes.
It saddened me when his hair started to turn grey. He had aged right alongside me. Before I knew it, his hair had gone white in places.
One morning, Billy yelped when he tried sitting up. He shook in my arms. It was the first time I’d ever seen fear in his eyes. Pain.
The vet told me the prognosis hours later. I couldn’t believe it – still can’t.
We spent the rest of Billy’s days by the river, just taking it all in. Just the two of us – Billy and me.
He didn’t wake up one morning. I bawled like a baby – cried right into his thick coat. I brought him down and laid him to rest near his favorite tree – the large oak right near the bend in the river.
I went back to drinking. Heavier, maybe, this time around. It felt like my heart had been ripped from my body and trampled on.
Months passed. On a crisp fall morning, I went out to get the Sunday paper. When I picked it up from the mailbox, the classifieds section fell out and landed on some scattered leaves. “Pups for Sale” looked up at me.
A lifetime of memories flooded through my body, my being. I smiled despite the tears.
And I knew exactly what I ought to do.
My dog, Rylo, inspired this story. He’s getting older — he’ll be ten in September — and a couple of days ago I noticed his age for the first time. He’s starting to slow down, starting to take a bit longer when I call his name — and I’m guessing he has some aches and pains. Probably all true, but it makes me love him even more.
“Pups for Sale” was an attempt to capture the “goodness” dogs possess because they truly are remarkable animals. Feel free to let me know what you thought of the story below!
Writing prompt idea: If you’re aiming to get some words on the page, try to write a specific memory that relates to one of your pets. Think about the time and place to help you hone in on the nitty-gritty details. Or, write a fictional story about a pet you never owned but you always dreamed of owning.
Feel free to share your response below — or just use the prompt to fuel some of your own writing.
Have a great week!
Awww!! I remember when Rylo was just five years old and our cat Leon the same... Leon will be ten in June. As crazy as he is, he has been a comfort through any unhappy times, and entertainment always. Great story, Justin.
We all need some companionship. And dogs are some of the best companions.