Just Puppy...

I couldn't blame it on Puppy that he'd been given to me by Ben. It
would be different had Puppy been a child. A child might have the same
winning smile and cute mannerisms I'd found so endearing in Ben for so
long, until...

As I threw sticks for Puppy in the park I often wondered how women
manage to love children that are living images of the men they've grown
to hate.

I loved to watch Puppy rush to retrieve anything I threw for him, goofy
ears flapping, monstrous splayed paws pounding the turf. He'd grab the
object with his black serrated lips and scamper back to lay it, dewlaps
dripping, onto my shoes.

Ben was never like this, even at the beginning. Not that I demanded
such obedience from a mere man. Although the thought of Ben rushing up
to me with a stick in his lips was more endearing than if the stick was
in his hand.

'Parking Puppy' was what Ben called taking Puppy to the park for his
twice-daily workout. The other two or three times a day his airings
were sober saunters along the lush grass verges of Burnt End
Drive.

On these short walks Puppy behaved like a teenager visiting a youth
club: Anything been happening? Who's doing what? Any new bods around?
Every scrap of information was taken in through his shiny boxing glove
of a nose, while his unnecessarily long tail beat the air above
him.

I'd hugged Puppy to me so hard after Ben left. I'd wailed: 'Oh, Puppy!
Don't leave me!' into his soft brown fur again and again.

Puppy had stoically given me devotion and loyalty, qualities that Ben,
or any other man I'd ever met, knew nothing of. Oh, how I'd clung
unashamedly to that strong muscular neck!

Ben had probably intended Puppy to be my consolation when he bought him
from the dogs' home three months before he disappeared for good.

Puppy had been one of a litter of four puppies called Arthur, Lancelot,
Percival and Guinivere. The people at the home always gave the animals
a name; for identification purposes, they'd told Ben. One poor old
stray was struggling under the name Tintagel, Ben told me, as it had
been Arthurian legend week when he was brought in.

So Puppy's real name was Arthur, but I didn't hold that against him.
Arthur Puppy, Puppy Arthur, I even grew to like the name. But just
'Puppy' seemed to be more 'him'.