My real uncle--great carpenter--found a dog that had likely got lost in the woods or otherwise got separated from its owners. It had been what seemed like weeks in the woods for that dog. He was a Heinz, loved blueberries, strawberries and sour apples. That was likely what he'd been surviving on in the bush. Man, did my family and extended family ever attract strays. They'd select us in bus lineups or other kinds of crowds. (Go ask HIM! He's got a hotdog too.) Feed 'em just once . . . .

Anyway, that was a different dog. Wouldn't stay in the house but when my uncle was going anywhere he'd just jump in the car to go along for the ride. Liked sticking his nose out the window, and if my uncle was having a beer he'd pour some for the dog, too. That dog burped and ate most vegetables. He didn't understand about eating beef, but he liked fish and mice. I have puzzled over that dog for about 50 years. Watched him tear up some plants and eat the roots.

He liked to stay under the front step, and that became his space. We put a dog house there, but he'd only use it during inclement weather, and often unwillingly. He made me wonder what exactly his life had been like. I know it was hard, but how hard? He'd brace strangers who stopped, but he never growled or bared his teeth. He was just there and that seemed to be enough for folks. He didn't like being petted but he'd never get disagreeable over it. He'd just move away.

He was given to a good home once he got used to people, and we were able to visit him now and then due to proximity. The dairy farmer said he kept the pest population down and never bothered the cows. He was struck and killed on a country road. People who hit him took his body to the farmer who gave him a small grave under some berry bushes in front of his house. To this day I hope there's some sort of doggie heaven where the weather is always good, berries always available and someone to tell him to stop being daft get in out of the rain.