My wife, Claire, and I used to call my brother's dog Mr. Meat-Meat. His real name was Beau. (Or was it spelled B-O?) He was a black Lab of medium build, and, like most dogs, he loved meat, hence the nickname. Or maybe he got the name because of a popular song at the time - Every Time You Go Away. Me, my wife, my brother, and even Beau all thought the lyrics were: Every time you go away, you take a piece of meat with you. Of course, Paul Young was singing me, not meat.

Mr. Meat-Meat was an exceptional dog. He was exceptionally loving, friendly, happy, dopey, and, most of all, exceptionally strong, especially for a dog his size.

One thing Mr. Meat-Meat loved, almost as much as meat, was going for a walk. He especially liked to run off-leash when given the opportunity. Then he could chase plenty of squirrels as far and as fast as he desired. He also enjoyed a refreshing swim, chasing sticks as soon as we threw them into the pond. Sometimes, he would even go swimming with my brother and me in the reservoir.

Once in a while, Beau would settle for a casual walk around the neighborhood, on-leash, of course. It wasn't his favorite activity, but he was always willing and eager to go anywhere, anytime, anyhow.

One pleasant afternoon, after we had Sunday dinner at my dad's house, my wife and I decided to go for a walk to the park. My dad and my brother preferred to remain behind and relax instead. Mr. Meat-Meat was more than anxious to come along, so of course, we grabbed his leash and took him with us.

About halfway down the street, after walking for only a minute, I had to tie my shoe. I asked my wife to take the dog's leash for a moment as I bent my knee to tighten the laces. I got up and said, "Okay, Claire, I can take him back now."

"That's alright. I can walk the dog for a while."

"As long as you don't mind." Claire came from a family that never owned a dog, and they were not particularly fond of canines. Her mother had been attacked by a dog once when she was a child.

"No, I don't mind at all. What a good boy! Aren't you, Mr. Meat-Meat."

It was the middle of autumn. Squirrels were scurrying about like crazy, gathering nuts in preparation for the onslaught of winter. One of the houses we walked past had a large hickory tree in the front yard. Hickory nuts covered the lawn. It was a veritable smorgasbord for squirrels.

Suddenly and without warning, to my wife's surprise, Mr. Meat-Meat took off like a bullet after one of the furry nut gathering critters. Claire had the leash wrapped around her wrist, ensuring a firm grip. The dog chased the squirrel clear across the lawn with my wife in tow, body surfing along the grass.

Story Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco

Photo by Frank DeFrancesco