Pirate's Ship Comes In

Pirate in his yard
Pirate Runs in his New Yard

The consummate canine athlete, he was scornful of the picket fence around our backyard, and left at will to go marauding. I tried to plug his holes and prop up barriers to no avail, until mercifully our lease ran out, and the landlord sold our house. We bought the house on Pommel, outside Austin’s city limits, with half an acre fenced in the back. “It has a brand-new five-foot cyclone fence,” I gloated foolishly.

The day we got the house I pulled up in the driveway, led my 18-inch dog through the house and put him in the yard. I went directly back out to the car, and there he was, waiting for me. My heart sank. But as it turned out, he stayed in the new yard most of the time, to humor me.

He was a grand dog. When he was nine, I decided he was an old dog and began to give him everything he wanted. He actually got spoiled and slightly fat. He remained tough and strong, though. Once when he was eleven, I left him in the backyard and rode off on my bicycle. It was a mile before I noticed a scrabbling sound, and realized that he had once again leapt the five-foot fence and followed me at a dead run for a mile.

In time, his legs got wobbly, and one night I dreamed that I drove back to the old neighborhood in Hyde Park and let him out of the car. Then in my dream I was seized with terror. I had let him go. I saw a flash of white and yelled, “PIRATE! Come ON!” He wheeled and turned toward me.

Pirate
The End

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