AtoZ of Animals I have met: “B” is for Bruiser, Blackie and Sofia #AtoZBlogChallenge#

   
 My husband, daughter and I had been living in Mistretta, in the province of Messina for about four or five years, when Nino’s friend Achille made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: Achille’s dog, a black Italian griffon, had just given birth to three beautiful pups. The father was an Italian hound, a beautiful breed. They would only be 20,000 Liras for the three of them (roughly $10 US at the time).

He brought the offer up with me. I had no problem with that, even though I knew perfectly well who would be taking care of them. He forgot, however, to tell me that they were only two days old. If we’d had one yet, he would have spent the night in a doghouse.

Fortunately for him, we didn’t have one yet and fortunately for those three sweet little puppies, I knew a thing or two about raising new-born puppies and kittens. The first most baby mammals do when they are around me is to go directly for my left thumb; it’s only slightly smaller than their mother’s teat and if I dipped it in milk, they got quite used to my scent and would equivalate it to “MOMMY!”

For several weeks I carried out all the functions of a real doggy mommy (yes, those too, although I used a wet cloth rather than my tongue) and a real bond was created between us. However, as the weather started getting warmer, their eyes opened, they graduated to a baby bottle and their big sister Sonia started taking on the chore of taking them out for walks after they finished drinking their meals and my nose took a sigh of relief.

By the time they turned six weeks old, Nino decided that they had become a handful (where he got that idea from I don’t know, since he never got his hands around them) and decided it was time for them to go into the campagna (our little vineyard). I didn’t disagree – basically because it wouldn’t have done me any good anyway – and it gave me an excuse to go to the vineyard and see to a few other interests there when I went to feed them.

They were all so beautiful. Blackie was pure black, with short, smooth hair. He was a typical, grouchy hound and I loved him dearly. Sofia was mostly black, with a few tan highlights on her ears and feet. She was femininely dainty, although not at all against a nice, rough tumble (with two brothers, one of them twice her size, how could she be?), but sweet as sugar. And I loved her dearly, too. And then, there was Bruiser.

Bruiser was the pup that was twice the size of Sofia. For that matter, he was also twice the size of Blackie… He was just as black as Blackie, but his hair was much longer and wirier. And he had Sofia’s sweet disposition. I tried not to show favoritism, but let’s face it, Bruiser was my favorite.

And then came the day of the distemper vaccinations; I remember that no two shots had the same exact strength and that they were required by law. I held them still as Nino gave them the shot, because I was still their mommy, and they trusted me.

The next morning, when I went to feed them, I knew before I opened the gate that disaster had struck. When I opened the door to the tack room, I saw Blackie lying stiffly on the floor. He was already gone; Sofia bravely lifted her sweet face, tears sliding down onto her long, silky ears. I picked her up to comfort her as she took in her last labored breaths. We said our goodbyes, and she died in my arms.

And Bruiser? Was it because the dose wasn’t as strong? Or was it his greater bulk? I’m not sure which of the two it was, it might even have been a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, Bruiser survived and became Nino’s beloved hunting companion. He still remembered his Mommy, though. Always.

Copyright © Mary Purpari 2 April 2021 All Rights Reserved