Remembering Clancy
Once Lila saw how Lucas took to Sox, she softened her stance on keeping the dog, but only marginally. She still insisted Meghan search for a possible owner before becoming attached to it.
Still wary of what this could lead to, Lila wanted to keep some distance between her family and the interloper. It wasn’t that she disliked dogs; in fact, when she saw the way Lucas followed the pup around, it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling. That feeling was what she disliked. She knew from experience the heartache having a dog could bring. She still remembered Clancy.
He had been Meghan’s dog, and there was no doubt about it. Wherever you saw one, you’d see the other. Clancy followed her everywhere. On school days, he’d be sitting on the front porch waiting when she rounded the corner. When she read, he’d be sitting in her lap, and when she studied at the desk, he’d be right there at her feet. Meghan loved that dog the same way she loved her daddy—wholeheartedly and without reservation.
Lila knew if Meghan became attached to this dog and then someone came to claim him, it would be the Clancy thing all over again. She was determined not to let that happen.
“How do you plan to go about finding the owner?” she asked.
“I’m going to place a found-dog ad in the Snip ’N’ Save.” Meghan’s words were flat and without enthusiasm. “Everyone in town reads it, so I’m sure . . . ”
“I suppose that’s as good a way as any.”
Lila hesitated for a moment, then remembered how week after week George had called the police station and the ASPCA to see if anyone had found the dog.
“His name is Clancy,” George would say hopefully. “He’s wearing a blue collar with a tag . . . ”
“Try the police station and the ASPCA,” Lila suggested. “Ask if anyone has reported a lost or stolen dog.”
“Okay,” Meghan answered reluctantly.
The remaining hours of the day passed, and it seemed there was no good time for making those calls. Meghan managed to find things to keep her busy. First she discovered a number of ads that needed to be redesigned, and after that, there were several e-mails to answer. Not surprisingly, she didn’t have a free moment until it was nearly suppertime, and then she reasoned it was too late for calling.
When they sat down at the table, Lila asked if she’d made the calls.
“Not yet,” Meghan answered. “It’s too late for the ASPCA. They’re probably already closed.”
“Probably?” Lila repeated, noting how Meghan used her daddy’s noncommittal word. “Well, the police station is open twenty-four hours a day. I’m certain you could call them.”
“Yes, I suppose I could.”
Meghan promised to do it after supper, but when they finished eating, she jumped up and began clearing the table. When that was done, she polished the counter, watered the ivy on the windowsill, and straightened the mess in the pot-holder drawer. With one thing after another, it was almost ten o’clock before she finally got around to calling the police station.
Trying to make the question sound as insignificant as possible, she asked, “Did anyone happen to report a missing dog?”
Officer Brogan said to the best of his knowledge there’d been no such report.
“Want me to take your number and let you know if one comes in?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” Meghan replied. “I can call back some other time.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the receiver. A few minutes later, she headed for her room, and Sox was right at her heels.
That night Meghan sat at the desk and wrote in her journal. She wrote about the memories of her daddy and her hopes that Clancy had somehow found a good home. In words that were crowded together like the whispers of a secret, she prayed Sox had no owner and would be hers to keep. She reasoned it was good for Lucas and told how he happily trailed the dog from room to room, and she went on to explain how patient Sox was with the baby.
“I think he understands Lucas is fragile,” she wrote.
Hours passed, and Meghan continued to write. She penned page after page saying how she’d missed Tracy and how in the future they needed to spend more time together to do the things sisters often did.
She started to list the things she had in mind, but when it came right down to it, she couldn’t put her finger on one specific activity. She tried imagining the two of them doing the things she enjoyed—sitting by the lake, strolling through the stacks at the library, walking a wooded trail—but remembered that Tracy found those things boring. She tried to imagine them going to a rock concert or racing along the highway in a top-down convertible, and while that would be fine with Tracy, it didn’t work for her.
In the end she simply wrote that she could walk Sox on a leash while Tracy pushed Lucas in his stroller. That picture was easy enough to see, but it still hinged on the looming question of whether or not she would be able to keep the dog.
It was nearly midnight when Meghan closed the notebook and pushed her chair back. Sox was sleeping alongside the desk, but when she stood, he stood, and when she climbed into bed, he jumped in after her.
She playfully ruffled his fur. “Oh, so you want to sleep with me, is that it?”
The dog whimpered, lowered his head, inched forward, and started licking her hand. He made it clear he knew she was the boss, and he was asking, “Please.”
Meghan couldn’t help but laugh. “You know I’m a sucker for you, don’t you?”
She slid beneath the blanket and patted the spot next to her. It was the okay signal he was waiting for. He scooted up, rumpled the blanket until it was just so, then curled his back into her chest. A few minutes later, his head dropped down onto her arm.
As she drifted off to sleep, Meghan could almost swear she caught the aroma of the pipe tobacco her daddy had smoked.