Passing the Terrier Torch

“Psst - JoLee!”

JoLee’s head turned so fast, you could almost hear his neck-bones pop.

“Wha - Who is that? Is that you, Tim?”

Tim’s little head bobbed. “C’mere, Jo.”

Jo’s little butt hit the dirt. “I don’t trust you, Tim. What do you want?”

Tim sighed. “I - I just need to tell you a few things. I’m not going to be here much longer, and I wanted to tell you some stuff that I don’t want Star to hear.”

This was sounding more interesting.

Tim sat up with some effort, and then came out from under the juniper bush where he had been resting. He looked awful, and smelled worse.

“Ugh, Tim. What’s with the smell, dude?”

Tim looked down at himself. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s what kidney failure does to a dog - makes them stink worse than something they’d want to roll in.” He sat up a little taller, marshaled his resources, and took a deep breath. “Okay, I think I’m ready. I’m going to need you to take care of some things after I leave.”

JoLee cocked his head to one side. “Where are you going, Tim? Can I come with you?”

Tim barked a laugh. “No, JoLee, you cannot. You have to take care of Mom and Dad until it’s your turn. Nobody gets to go before it’s their time. That’s part of the rules.” He found a comfy place to lay down in the sun and looked up at Jo. “Now come here and be still for a bit.”

JoLee came closer and sat right in front of Tim - unfortunately, right in the middle of his sunny spot. Tim moved over so he was in the full sun again. He squinted up at JoLee.

“First of all, I wanted to tell you about my ear tattoo. See it?” He flipped his earflap up, so JoLee could see the faded blue letters. “Mom and Dad have wondered about that all my life, and I couldn’t tell them. But I will tell you. I got this tattoo when I was just a pup - and it cost me some Greenies, I can tell you that.”

“What are ‘Greenies,’ Tim?”

Tim snorted in annoyance. “Don’t interrupt. I used to eat Greenies all the time, until things started going downhill. They were like doggy ambrosia and nectar condensed down into - oh, never mind. You wouldn’t understand unless you’d had one, and Mom doesn’t keep them in the cupboard anymore. And we’re getting off track again.”

He pushed one little paw ahead of him. “Now, the letters of my tattoo spell out "CRAMEK," and I chose them very carefully. This is what they stand for:

C - Courageous
R - Resolute
A - Alert
M - Most
E - Excellent
K - Killer

Jo tilted his head to the other side. “Most Excellent Killer?” Couldn’t you have come up with something better than that?”

“Hey! I said don’t interrupt. And don’t criticize, either. Anyway, it was the best I could come up with at the time. I was a young and impetuous pup.” Tim shifted to his other side - he seemed really uncomfortable. “That tattoo reminded me every single day of the Terrier I wanted to be.” Tim shifted again. He lifted one eyebrow and said, seriously: “Now, I haven’t told anyone else any of what I’m telling you today.”

Jo laid down in front of Tim. “There’s more? Why aren’t you telling anyone else? How can I get a cool tattoo like yours? Why don’t you have any dewclaws? Where are you going?”

“Whoa! Whoa! Settle down, Jo!” Tim laughed. “First of all, I’m telling you because Star just isn’t built like you and me. How can I put this?” He pursed his lips, head cocked to one side and looked up at the sky. “Okay. You know that different Skinfolk just feel different, right?”

“Right. Like Mom feels happy and sunny, but with some thunderclouds, and Dad feels - well, constant.” Jo nodded.

“That’s it exactly!” Tim exclaimed. “I knew I chose well.” He leaned forward. “Well, Star is one of the constant ones. She’s sturdy, she’s steady, she’s solid and that runs right through her character. You and I, well, we have a little more of a mischievous side to us. We’re a little more . . .”

“Like Loki!” Jo declared.

Tim was taken aback. “Loki? Why would you choose him, in particular, Jo? Where did you hear about Loki?”

JoLee grinned, panting in the bright sunshine. “I dunno,” he shrugged. “It just kind of came out. Why, what’s wrong with Loki?”

Tim considered. “Well, Loki is a Norse god, and he gave birth to Fenrir, the wolf. He was a trickster, but things didn’t end well for him. He was kind of bad, too. We’re not bad.”

“So, we’re good Loki’s, then?” JoLee asked, his blue/brown eyes twinkling.

Tim shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. I prefer to think of us as Cadejos, myself.” His brow wrinkled. “It does go to show that you never know what memories you’re born with, though . . .” He came back to the present, and his deep brown eyes refocused on JoLee’s bright blue ones.

And then he began to talk.


(See Star’s Journal for the rest of the story)

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