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PHALANX, THE STORY OF A BORDERCOLLIE
BY Devon Pitlor, M.A. econ.
I. Christmas Day, 1997.
A
lex Naylor's grandmother was the first todrink herself to the floor around noon on the25th. She fell with a thud and the vodkaglass squirted from her hand and smashedinto fragments against the dining room wall.Alex's father, Evan, pondered his drunkmother for a minute and, deciding suddenlyto pick her up, arched over, lost his balanceand careened into the table sending theChristmas goose and all its trimmings to thefloor alongside the old lady, who snornedpeacefully now and eventually rolled over and used the roasted goose for a headcushion. Evan rose to his feet and staggeredinto the back yard. Alex watched himcollapse onto the grass into some piles of dog shit left by Aristotle the familydoberman. In the spare bedroom, Alex'saunt was also snoring by noon. Alex passedher bed looking for her purse on the chanceof finding some spare bills and noted that
 
she smelled like the diesel fuel his father pumped into his rig. For a moment, hepondered setting her on fire with a match.He supposed that she would burn up rightaway at the touch of a flame.In the living room, Alex's mother Jeannie wasflat across the sofa gazing at a huge pair of scissors which someone had given her for Christmas. Her yellowing eyes glazedblankly as Alex passed, and she grinned inundisguised inebriation. She opened thescissors and made a gesture of passingthem over her wrist. "Gotta die somehow,"she burbled to no one in particular.Alex looked at the unopened presents under the tree and wondered if he dare to openthose marked with his name. He haddecided not to---in order to avoid theinevitable "disciplinary beating" that hisfather would later give him--when he heard alow-pitched woofing sound coming out of one of them. The little box was wrapped insloppy, stained butcher paper and tied withtwine and had holes poked into it."Alexander" was scrawled across the top.Something alive was inside.
 
II. Phalanx the border collie emerges.At eight years of age, Alex knew that animalscould not last long in boxes with tiny holesin them and made the brave decision toliberate whatever it was inside. It turned outto be a brown puppy with three legs.The puppy seemed healthy enough and hada huge set of doleful eyes which seemed likeblack pools of coal tar. Its ears were perkyenough, and its nose was wet and cold. Itacted happy to be free and bounced aroundby Alex's knees.From the bedroom came a dull thud.On cue, Alex's aunt had rolled off the bedand hit the carpet.All was normal this Christmas, Alex thought.Except for the puppy. He had asked for onetwo or three years before and never got it.For some reason, they had thought to gethim one this year---a year in which his mindwas already turning to other, darker, things.
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MaryAnnaX

Thank the dog, and the dog dies. Sad but good. Nice.

reply10 / 11 / 2009
Mark Grinage

nice well put very deep. peace wmmelvin

reply10 / 02 / 2009
Mark Grinage

nice enjoyable well put wmmelvin

reply10 / 02 / 2009
Carson89

shocking and graphic but good

reply09 / 12 / 2009
Nartan89

Writers group read aloud and discussed. Very well liked. We are doing study of your stories. This is excellent.

reply08 / 17 / 2009
Devon_Pitlor

This story got started, in effect, because in real life I do not like dogs and because on another board (which I would like to talk to you about when you finish and message) I was challenged to write a dog story. I tried to be as sympathetic as I could. I do not hate dogs. I just don't want to own one or have one around. Don't know why. I have always been that way. Again, I appreciated your picking up on the small details. I see that as a really important part of writing. Many thanks and hoping to read your comments on further stories and get a message. Devon

reply07 / 15 / 2009
Searcher420

Devon, Can't believe it. This is my fourth story today. I need to stop after this one. As Heidi says, very depressing. We used to have a border collie in my family when I was a kid, and yes they are very smart. Not smart enough to eat cocaine to save their owners, but smart. Little things like making Phalanx a three-legged dog and the meaning of his name are where I find your genius. Other writers would have never thought of those details. Sad tale. I can handle sad. You did it well. Nice job.

reply07 / 10 / 2009
Devon_Pitlor

Sorry about the sadness. I look forward to your reading and commenting more too!! Hugs and good luck to you.

reply03 / 05 / 2009
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