Bill brought Rusty home
the day after Christmas, the year of the record snowfall, a plump white puppy too
cute to resist, filled with an abundance of exuberance. The two were best
buds from the first night.
Ten years later, I was
the Interloper who came onto the scene mid-way into the act and it was not love
at first sight, not on Rusty’s side of the equation. Oh, he was charming enough during
the initial greetings, it was later, after Bill and I sat down on the couch to watch a
movie that his jealousy showed.
He wormed his way
between us, giving me a look that said, "No one comes between me and my
Dad."
When Bill gently moved him to
the other side of the couch, he got down, shot us an insulted look and headed for the
bedroom. I did not think much about
it, but I should have. My purse was lying
on the bed.
