The White Dog
The day after I picked up my newly printed book which I worked on for ten years, I called three of my closest friends and told them I would be by to drop off a copy to them. I could only reach them via their answering machines and did not know if they would be home or not. My first delivery was to Mary Ann, one of my dearest friends. I went to her door and rang the doorbell and she did not come to the door. So, thinking she was not home, I decided to try to find a place to sit down and sign a copy for her and leave it at the door. As I walked down her walk, I saw an adorable, white, scruffy dog running up the walk toward me with an inquisitive look in his eyes. Then he ran back to the street. I decided to sit down in Bill’s chair (her dear husband who recently passed away). The chair was out in the yard under a large tree and surrounded by ground cover. Again, the white dog ran up the walk toward me. I stood up and he ran back to the street. I thought that he might jump on me and get my beautiful, pristine book dirty and decided I would go to my car and get inside and sign the book for my friend. I got up and started down the walk when the door opened and my friend came out in a long dress carrying a towel and said that she had been in the shower. She looked toward the street and said, “Look at that cute white dog. Where did he come from?” I said, ” I don’t know.” She invited me in and ask me to sit down and wanted me to read some of the book to her. I chose to read the story that Jackie is telling Allen while they are in the hay loft on page 140 of my book. After each stanza of the story/poem, Jackie states, ” … and white dog followed.” After finishing reading this to my friend, Mary Ann, I told her that there was a mystical white dog that appears throughout the book. All of a sudden she said, “Betty, the white dog out in the front yard. I walk the neighborhood all the time and I know all of the dogs. I have never seen that dog before. Do you think it is the mystical white dog from your book?” I was shocked and stunned by the thought and said, “Mary Ann, perhaps it is.” I think that this must have been a sign for both of us that there is more to this book than meets the eye. Betty Chisolm Hutzler, Author
