Any Day Now. Robyn Carr
much too small for her and when she was let out, she was wild and crazy. The man couldn’t handle her, had her in a choke collar that he pulled on relentlessly, shouting, “Down! Down! Molly get down! Sit! Sit!” Then he would just chain her to the trailer and she’d strain against her leash.
The mother, Anne, and the kids were exploring and playing by the lake, but the father, Chad, preferred his lounge chair under the camper’s canopy. The dog spent far too much time in the too-small kennel and her break time was limited to being chained. She was never taken for a run or a walk. And she had a lot to say, barking and whining. Well, she was confined all the time and didn’t get any attention or exercise and she was still a pup, though nearly full grown.
Chad constantly yelled at the dog. He was, in fact, more irritating than the animal. “Molly! Shut up!”
His name was Chad Petersen and he was on Sierra’s wrong side right off. He had a big fancy trailer but he clearly wasn’t camping for recreation, but for relaxation. He was overly friendly, had a big laugh and a loud voice, was very social with his neighbors and always had a beer in his hand. His wife was the one who took the kids walking to the base of the mountains to pick flowers or the edge of the lake where they could play with other children. It was his wife who put out the dinner and turned the burgers on the grill and fed the dog. It was Anne who picked up the dog droppings.
And when the dog got on Chad’s nerves she was stuffed into that too-small kennel. Molly whimpered and whined to be let out.
On Saturday afternoon Sully wandered down to the lake where Anne and the children were. He talked to a few of the women there, including Anne, and when he came back to the store, he reported what he’d learned. “Their boy is autistic, like I figured. He’s real antisocial. His dad thought a puppy would help—bring out his personality—even though his wife told him it might have the opposite effect. She’s not a service animal, for God’s sake. And now that the dog is big and dumb as a puppy, Petersen is frustrated and short-tempered and rather than admit he might’ve been wrong, he’s determined to whip that puppy into shape. I might’ve editorialized that last part, but ain’t it just obvious?”
“That poor little boy,” Sierra said.
“Doesn’t appear the boy knows what’s going on with the dog and his dad.”
Sierra stuck her neck out, probably where she shouldn’t. She approached Chad as he sat under his canopy. Beau was with her and sniffed Molly, who was on her chain. “If you invite the dog to have a swim in the afternoon when it’s sunny or take her for a really long walk up the trail, she’ll tire out and be less noisy,” she suggested.
“If you’d keep your dog away maybe mine wouldn’t bark so much.”
“My dog?” she asked. “This is the owner’s dog. This is Beau and it’s Beau’s campground. Besides, the dogs like each other. Molly’s only barking because she’s bored and lonely.”
“I’ll put her back in the kennel,” Chad said, standing from his lawn chair.
“No! No, please don’t. Anyone could see that kennel is too small. I just thought you could use a suggestion, that’s all. This place is family friendly and that includes pets as long as they’re not vicious. She’s just playful.”
“I’m thinking about drowning her,” Chad said. Then he grinned.
“Aw, jeez,” Sierra said in disgust. “Come on, Beau.”
She went back to the store and located Sully behind the lunch counter.
“Try to stay out of it,” he advised before she even said anything.
“They’re not okay,” Sierra said. “The wife and kids try not to get in his way, they give him a real wide berth, even that little boy. And the dog is barking and straining because she hasn’t had any training. And he said he was thinking of drowning her. I hate him.”
“Don’t waste your hate,” Sully said. “Nobody’s drowning anything at my campground. And how they conduct themselves is not our business unless they’re breaking the law.”
“He’s one inch from breaking the law, I can smell it on him,” she said.
The ruckus of the dog whining or barking and Petersen barking back continued while Sully and Sierra had their dinner on the porch. If a customer appeared one of them or the other jumped up to go inside and wait on them. The few campers who came to the store remarked on the barking dog and the man with the booming voice. “Don’t make the mistake of offering him advice,” Sierra said. “I did and he threatened to drown the dog.”
“Is there anything you can do?” one woman asked. “I think he’s more annoying than the dog!”
“There’s nothing we can do but ask him to leave and take his dog somewhere else,” Sully said. “I hate doing that. I apologize for the noise.”
Things seemed to quiet around the campgrounds as the sun was lowering and people were stoking their evening fires but every time a dog barked poor Molly was set to answer. Then would come the noise of her owner. “Shut up, Molly!”
Sierra was tormented by what was clearly animal abuse. The chain, the cage, the choke collar. A kennel, the right size for the dog complete with blanket and chewy toys, was a good training tool, even Sierra knew that, though she hadn’t had a dog, not really. There had been dogs on the farm when she was growing up, but that wasn’t the same as a pet like Beau. She knew Sully was right, she should just mind her own business.
He knows not his own strength who hath not met adversity.
—Samuel Johnson
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