After packing up my book bag, I went down to the kitchen and out the side door. There was a tall wooden gate in front of a wooden staircase that led down to the back yard of the house. At the foot of the steps and next to the house was a small garden shed with a sink. Under the sink was a 50-pound bag of dog food that was about half full. I wondered how long a bag like that lasted a dog as big as Brute. Next to the sink was a workbench that was obviously used to pot plants. I had seen some strong-looking hooks for hanging planted baskets in the ceiling just inside the French doors of the family room, but they were not being used. Since it was early spring, I thought I might volunteer to manage the houseplants. The idea of finding ways to make myself useful around the house gave me a warm feeling. Doing some chores made me feel like I was a part of the family and not just a guest living in one of the rooms.
Brute's food and water bowls were on the ground just around the corner of the shed. The food bowl was empty and the water was half gone. As I emptied the old water out onto the foundation plants, I marveled at how big the bowls were. Each was the size of a large mixing bowl and would hold over a half-gallon. Everything about Brute was big.
I washed out the bowls thoroughly and refilled them. I had no trouble with filling the food bowl from the big bag, as there was a scoop in it for that purpose. I tried to carry the water carefully to keep from sloshing it, but I stumbled over the garden hose and got it all over me anyway. I realized then that I should have used the hose to fill the water bowl rather than carrying it from the sink.
I was standing there with water dripping off me when I heard something crash through the woods that bordered the yard. It startled me. It sounded like a herd of buffalo charging through the underbrush and I froze as I listened to the sound of branches snapping.
I laughed when the bushes parted and Brute bounded out of the woods. I shook my head as my concern evaporated and I watched the dog approach. Even at a distance, he looked huge. He crossed the yard so quickly that I hardly had time to blink, even though I knew it was at least 200 feet from the house to the trees. Brute was on me in a flash, jumping and sniffing and licking me like I was his favorite person on Earth. I tried to give as good as I got, petting and rubbing and scratching him as vigorously as I could. I was greatly overmatched, though. He had almost a hundred pound advantage and he was incredibly strong. I was in awe of the sheer power of such a magnificent animal. The dog was so happy to have me play with him that I could not help but feel happy too. His energy seemed limitless. Several times he knocked me to the ground as we played. The next time this happened, I grabbed his neck and swung onto his back, locking my legs around his body. Even though I was half his weight, he moved easily, as though I was no more than a fly. Having me clinging to his back while he ran around the yard did not bother him a bit. He seemed to like the new game and he ran and jumped while I held on tight and pressed my face into the fur of his neck. The sensation of having my whole body against all that solid muscle as he moved was intoxicating. The heat he gave off when he ran soaked into me like it had before in the house when he had tried to lie in my lap.
We went around and around the yard, going faster with each lap until my hands slipped and I fell off into the grass. I rolled to my feet and jumped at the dog, but he shied away. It turned into a game of tag, where I would chase him and try to jump on his back and he would dodge; and then he would chase me and I would try to escape.
We spent a lot of time at this until I was too exhausted to keep it up and collapsed onto the ground, trying to catch my breath. Brute stopped playing immediately and came over to see if I was OK. He bent down his huge head and licked my face and neck with his big tongue until I was forced to get up or drown in doggie-drool.
I looked down at my clothes and saw that they were filthy from the dirt and grass.
"Oh, no! At least these weren't my new clothes," I said, half to myself and half to the dog. This top and shorts would never be the same again.
"I guess these will have to be my grubbies from now on."
Brute looked at me guiltily. He tried to clean the green smudge off my knee by licking it. It was strange, the way he seemed to know what I was saying.
"Thanks," I said. "But I think I'll need soap for that."
I patted Brute goodbye and went back up the stairs as he trotted off into the woods to terrorize the local squirrel population some more. As I reached the kitchen door, Bambi called out to me.
"Sam! There you are. I wanted to know what kind of pizza you wanted for tonight before I called in the order. We have all the... what the hell happened to you?"
I tried to stand up straight and look natural, but I knew it was hopeless. I just stood there with my clothes twisted and dirty, looking like a poor waif.
"Good grief, child." She scolded. "Have you been playing with the dog or has he been playing with you? You look like he buried you and then dug you up. Well, if you want to trash those clothes, I wouldn't blame you."
"I think I'll keep them to wear outside. I had fun playing with Brute. He's a sweetie."
"Go get cleaned up." She said. "What would you like to wear tonight? I'll lay it out for you."
"The blue dress with the halter-top. It will go nicely with her green sun-dress."
"Good choice. That one will really show off your 'tattoo'. I'll just run the iron over it for you."