Of Dogs & Wives | Luke Foyle | Grade 9
nothing for him except mundane housework.
On the other hand, he thought, a man’s dogs were
something that provided a necessary element in
his life. They could be trusted, they were always at
his disposal, and they did not ask for things to be
done. Jerry’s father had been a dog breeder who gave
much consideration to his pack and he handed this
trait down to his son. Whenever he returned from
hunting in the morning, it was his dogs that received
his first attention, not Susan. After all, it was those
faithful hounds who had done all of the running
during the night and brought him the catch. Susan,
on the other hand, was not the provider of mauled,
muddy and foul smelling raccoons and therefore did
not merit Jerry’s highest praise.
After he had poured forth his woes at the diner,
Jerry returned home unchanged. In the next few
days he arrived home from work in the evenings and
immediately went to the dog pen to make certain of
his hounds’ every need. Then he would wend his way
to the porch to meet Susan and hear her ask what
made the dogs’ importance rise over her own. After
all, she was the one that he married, while the dogs
were simply bought from a neighbor. Jerry always
replied that the hounds were sort of special for
whatever reason, but the reality was that they were
the only ones that he “got something out of.”
A week after his conversation at the diner, Jerry
found himself confronted with a situation that
predicted sheer delight. His wife, Susan, had
promised to stay with one of her sisters who was ill;
consequently, she would be away for a week. Jerry
was almost rejoicing. Now he would have the special
privilege for a week to live “as a man ought” without
the added vexation of his wife. “Just the dogs,
myself, and coon hunting,” he thought to himself in
delight.
When his wife left, Mr. Shields regarded her
“goodbye” and “love you” with slight suspicion as he
always did. Once she was gone, he settled down in
the quiet house to fully comprehend his new liberty.
As was his custom, he went coon hunting that night
with his friends. They were out in the river swamp
from dusk to dawn, and when he arrived back home
Jerry sank down on his couch for a much needed
nap. However, it was not to be. He was immediately
called by his neighbor’s wife who was asking about
a recipe for a certain French dish whose name Jerry
could neither pronounce nor spell. Jerry never
ventured into the realm of cooking because that was
Susan’s job. He hardly could remember where her
recipe box was and, once he found it, he was still
unable to find the recipe. In all, the endeavor kept
him busy for at least half an hour. Eventually he
discovered the small piece of paper, delivered it to
the neighbor, and retired, thankful that things like
that weren’t his usual duty.
Jerry Shields and his friends again went hunting
that night. They parked their trucks up at the top
of a sand hill and sat on the tailgates, drank coffee,
and talked while they listened to their dogs working
down in the surrounding woods. While they sat
there, Jerry told of his present state of affairs at
the house and how he had it all to himself. By their
responses, the other men seemed envious.
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BAYLEY BULLETIN, MAR-MAY 2016
