99 Stories of God

53. Peggy

Jack and Pat were in their seventies now and had no pets, although they had had several in the course of their days, mostly dogs, but once a bird as well. Their most remarkable dog, Jack and Pat said, was a pit bull, Peggy. She was the sweetest, smartest dog, they said.

This was long ago. The boy they adopted as an infant is in his thirties now. When they brought the baby home, Peggy was curious about him and protective and adoring in a way Jack and Pat increasingly found to be alarming. Jack, a physician, decided that for everyone’s peace of mind, Peggy should be put down. From the pharmacy at the hospital where he worked, he procured a large amount of expired valium. The plan was to mix the crushed valium with a pound of ground sirloin. Ground sirloin was Peggy’s favorite food. When she was a very good dog she received it, and Peggy knew that when it was presented to her she had been a very good dog or for one reason or another had pleased Jack and Pat.

Jack and Pat discussed at length the sad necessity of putting Peggy down for everyone’s peace of mind, but when the moment came, Jack could not bring himself to lace the ground sirloin with the crushed valium. Nor could Pat perform this act. Peggy was a good dog, she would not harm their little child.

Relieved to have made their decision, Jack and Pat filled Peggy’s bowl with the untainted meat and placed it before her.

But Peggy would not touch it. She gazed at it, then gazed at Jack and Pat and left the room.

Sometimes, for years, when Jack and Pat had friends over for dinner or cards, they would put a bowl of ground sirloin before Peggy and she would never touch it. Of course the story was told again and again. The guests were always amazed.