We called her Mange because that’s how they found her– covered with it. She’d been chained to a trailer that was abandoned by some rednecks in another community and was rescued by the Humane Society. She was the ugliest dog I ever saw– even the vet couldn’t figure out what breed she was. We fondly referred to her coloring as turdy brown. But that’s also why we liked her. We were a family that always pulled for the underdog– no pun intended. Over the years it was pretty obvious she liked Daddy the most. He’d get on the floor and wrestle with her, and he did all the combing and brushing and stuff. She never lacked for attention when my daddy was around. She’d follow him from room to room when he was home. She’d have slept with him if my mother had let her. Of course, my mother wasn’t going to have any of that.

On her last birthday– we all knew she was dying by then– we propped her up on a highchair at the table and put a bib around her neck and fed her little pieces of chopped liver. Then we sang Happy Birthday. The neighbors thought we were weird, but I never regretted it for a minute. And certainly Mange liked it. You could tell because she had that dog smile on her face. People say dogs can’t smile, but they’re wrong. You can tell.

A couple of weeks after that birthday party she began to breathe funny, so Daddy took her into the bedroom to keep an eye on her at night. She slept on an old Persian rug he pulled out of the attic. My mother didn’t like it. “You love that dog more than me,” I heard her complain one day when I wasn’t supposed to be within earshot. Daddy just laughed. “Yeah, but I love you just as much as the children, and more than the two cats.” Daddy had a great sense of humor.

That last night she was acting sort of strange so Daddy waited until my mother had fallen asleep and then he got down on the floor and curled up around Mange and whispered stuff into her ear. You know like, “I’m right here with you,” he’d say, or “You’ve been a great dog.” I’m sure Mange loved it. Probably tried to wag her tail even though she didn’t have much energy left. Daddy later told me that he woke up at six o’clock in the morning and saw Mange wasn’t breathing any longer. She was lying on her side with her head stretched out in this, strange, awkward position. Her nose was pressed into the palm of his hand.