Three Dog Night

“Beside him—unleashed—stood a Mastiff, whose head rose past the man’s brass-studded belt.”

I wrote Three Dog Night in the Fall of 2023 after visiting Big Lick Brewing Company in Roanoke, Virginia. A silver-haired man in black and motorcycle boots strolled in, an unleashed Mastiff at his side. His dog, like the one in this story, wore a harness with a patch reading ASK TO PET. A much younger woman walked up to his high-top table, asked to pet his dog and join him. I thought she was brave—and frankly bad ass—to approach this intimidating man and dog.

My writer brain turned that scene over and sideways, wondering if she—as a fictional character—wasn’t brave, but instead desperate.

We also met a goofy, friendly black lab that day. He reminded me of my previous dog, Huckleberry Finn. The black lab became part of the narrator’s story. Maybe she didn’t want uncomplicated.

There wasn’t a Frenchie in Big Lick Brewing Company, but they’re everywhere in my neighborhood. My friend Beth has one named Millie. I’ve never seen a Frenchie in a baby carrier, but I’ve seen several in strollers.

The expression three dog night refers to a night so cold that you’d have to sleep with three dogs to stay warm. The story begins with the narrator leaving the cold floors in the empty apartment and heading out to the local craft beer scene. I have a tendency not to name my narrators and this woman is not only without a name, but she’s lost her job, her relationship and will soon lose her home. I included the dog book she had as a child and her hope to one day have her own dog to provide a little backstory, to make her feel real.

Maybe the ending feels ambiguous. We close with her watching the man and his dog walk away. Perhaps she sees her chance at the stability and safety she imagines they could provide disappear. What he says to her might be harsh—cruel, even—but could his words kick her into action? What could she do so she wouldn’t need a father-figure to take care of her?

I’d like to think she rallies. Though, every once in a while, I worry about her.

***

I’m still slogging my way through edits on my novel, Degrees of Forgiving. After several months without looking at it, I’ve found places where I could be more specific with my narrator Laurel’s actions and emotions. She’s a vet and wants a dog, too. Overlapping themes seem to pop up everywhere.

Also, I’m working on a first draft of a novel that centers on a school shooting. My narrator tells her murky version of the story twelve years after the event; the shrapnel has impacted every corner of her life. It’s not easy to write and I have miles to go.   

Thanks so much for coming along.

Heather