Was I really afraid of hurting her feelings? Or was I afraid of her?
Juli: The Eggs
After they cut down the sycamore tree, it seemed like everything else fell apart, too. Champ died.
And then I found out about the eggs. It was Champ’s time to go, and even though I still miss him,
I think it’s been easier for me to deal with his death than it has been for me to deal with the truth about the eggs.
I still cannot believe it about the eggs. The eggs came before the chickens in our case, but the dog came before them both.
One night when I was about six years old, Dad came home from work with a full-grown dog tied down in the back of his truck.
Someone had hit it in the middle of an intersection, and Dad had stopped to see how badly it was hurt.
Then he noticed that the poor thing was skinny as a rail and didn’t have any tags.
Starving and completely disoriented,he told my mother. “Can you imagine someone abandoning their dog like that?”
The whole family had converged on the front porch, and I could hardly contain myself. A dog! A wonderful, happy, panting dog!
I realize now that Champ was never much of a looker, but when you’re six, any dog—no matter how mangy—is a glorious, huggable creature.
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