Hound Dog & Bean

Hound Dog & Bean by B.G. Thomas Page B

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Authors: B.G. Thomas
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This was impossible already!
     
    F) Large: 60 to 89 lbs
    G) Very large: 90 to 105 lbs
    H) Huge: 105 lbs
     
    This was already driving him crazy. He considered backing out of the site and trying another but then figured he’d come this far, he might as well finish and see where it went.
    So he thought about it and then chose “Tiny,” even though he didn’t think of thirteen to twenty-five pounds as tiny. The twenty-five-pound bags of fertilizer he had helped his mother lug into the garage last spring had been heavy, even if they weren’t nearly as heavy as the 150-pound bags green coffee beans he had delivered to the shop.
    Next there were questions about how many hours his dog would be alone each day (eight, maybe ten?), did he have kids, how much exercise would he get with his dog, was he willing to groom his dog or have it groomed…. They went on and on, and just when he was ready to give up, he was told to click one more button and he would see the best dog for him.
    He smiled in relief and clicked away.
    And the answer was…
    Silky Terrier.
    “What the heck?” he muttered. He’d never even heard of a Silky terrier. He leaned closer to the computer screen, then clicked on the image to make it bigger. The dog wasn’t ugly. No, as a matter of fact it sort of reminded him of a larger version of his aunt’s Yorkies. He wasn’t sure, though. And was that a clipped tail? He shuddered. He didn’t like that. They did weigh eight to ten pounds, though. And were companion dogs, and that he certainly needed. A must-have quality.
    Now what did the site say about the dog? “The Silky terrier is not a quiet lap dog,” he read out loud. He liked to read out loud. It made concepts stick more firmly in his mind. “It can be daring, spirited, curious, and playful, as well as mischievous. They can be aggressive with other dogs, so keep that in mind if you have another dog. Silky dogs are clever, but also willful. They tend to bark a lot.” Bean sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hmmmm….”
    He saw there was something else mostly off screen and so he took the mouse and scrolled down a little bit.
    “Your next eight choices,” it informed him. And those choices were French bulldog (no), Boston terrier—he shrugged—Chihuahua (maybe… he didn’t hate them like some people), Italian greyhound (huh? Weren’t greyhounds big dogs?), Norfolk terrier (cute, he supposed), Norwich terrier (oh, quite cute), Beagle (Hmmmm…. Didn’t Captain Archer have a beagle? Porthos, maybe? Certainly cute…. And they seemed to always look like puppies, which was a plus…. But no.), and finally a Manchester terrier (not even a little bit cute).
    Bean sat back again and sighed. “Well, that sucked,” he said.
    Below that was a list of the next 175 choices in order, with no pictures. Well, crap.
    For curiosity he looked to see where Yorkies appeared on the list.
    Eleven. For some reason this made him smile.
    “Is that what you’re thinking, Bean?”
    He clicked and the pictures popped up and oh, how he smiled.
    But Lord. They were small, weren’t they? Really small for the most part.
    Then he happened to notice that one of the very next dogs on the list was dachshund. He flashed on the memory of the one that bit and held onto his lip when he was a kid and shuddered. But then he thought about the three owned by his neighbor on the corner. Long-haired dachshunds. Gorgeous. Stunning even. How he laughed when they walked. You couldn’t see their legs, and their hair rippled when they moved. It always reminded him of caterpillars.
    The three dogs loved him. If they saw him on his porch, they moved en masse up his walk, like they were small, elongated Alaskan huskies pulling their musher—sans sled—behind them. Which always made Bean laugh in delight even if he wasn’t sure how Mr. Hornsbury felt about it. Bean would pull them, one by one, into his lap, giving each a turn to kiss him and get held. Their names were,

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