The price of Love
If only I can keep the kids from naming him. That would be the trick.
" No family needs two dogs，" I began dogmatically1. And so I invoked2 the Bauer Anonymity3 Rule （BAR）， which prohibits the naming of any animal not on the endangered species list， because at our place a pet named is a pet claimed." But we gotta call him something" ，our four children protested.
" All right， then， call him Dog X." I suggested. They frowned， but I thought it the perfect handle for something I hoped would float away like a generic4 soap powder.
My no-named strategy proved a dismal5 failure， however. Long before the pup was weaned6， the kids secretly began calling him Scampy， and before I knew it he had become as much a fixture as the fireplace. And just as immovable.
All of this could have been avoided， I fumed7， if Andy， a neighborhood mutt， had only stayed on his side of the street. But at age fourteen， this scruffy， arthritic8 mongrel hobbled9 into our yard for a tê te-à-tê te10 with our blue-blooded schnauzer11， Heidi， who was a ten-year Old Maid. We were unaware that Andy had left his calling card until the middle of one night during our spring vacation in Florida. I thought the moaning noise was the ocean. But investigation revealed it was coming from Heidi， whom Shirley， my wife， pronounced in labor12.When morning brought no relief or delivery， we found a vet who informed us that a big pup was blocking the birth canal， which could be fatal to Heidi. We wrung our hands13 for the rest of the day， phoning every couple of hours for an update. Not until evening was our dog pronounced out of danger.
" She was carrying three，" the doctor reported， " but only one survived." The kids took one look at the male pup， a ragamuffin14 ball of string， and exclaimed， " Andy！ He looks just like Andy."
" Have you ever seen anything so homely15？" I asked Shirley." He' s adorable，" she answered admiringly. " I only hope someone else thinks so. His days with us are numbered." But I might as well have saved my breath. By the time Dog X reached ten weeks， our kids were more attached to him than barnacles16 to a boat's bottom. I tried to ignore him. One thing I could not deny： he had the ears of a watchdog， detecting every sound that came from the driveway or yard. When the kids went off on their bikes or I put on my jogging shoes， he wanted to go along. If left behind， he chased squirrels. Occasionally， by now， I slipped and called him Scampy.
Then in the fall， after six months of family nurture and adoration， Scampy suffered a setback. Squealing brakes announced he had chased one too many squirrels into the street. The accident fractured his left hind leg， which the vet put in a splint. We were all relieved to hear his prognosis： complete recovery. But then a week later the second shoe dropped.
" Gangrene17，" Shirley told me one evening. " The vet says amputate18 or he' ll have to be put to sleep." I slumped down in a chair. " There's little choice，" I said. " It' s not fair to make an active dog like Scampy struggle around on three legs the rest of his life." Suddenly the kids， who had been eavesdropping19， flew into the room." They don't kill a person who has a bad leg." Steve and Laraine argued. Buying time， I told them， " We' ll decide tomorrow." After the kids were in bed， Shirley and I talked. " It will be hard for them to give up Scampy，" She sympathized.
" Especially Christopher，" I replied. " I was about his age when I lost Queenie." Then I told her about my favorite dog， a statuesque20 white spitz21 whose fluffy coat rolled like ocean waves when she ran. But Queenie developed a crippling22 problem with her back legs， and finally my dad said she would have to be put down23." But she can get well，" I pleaded. I prayed with all my might that God would help her walk again. But she got worse.
One night after dinner I went to the basement， where she slept beside the furnace. At the bottom of the stairs， I met Dad. His face was drained of color， and he carried a strange， strong-smelling rag in his hand. " I'm sorry， but Queenie's dead，" he told me gently. I broke into tears and threw myself into his arms. I don't know how long I sobbed， but after a while I became aware that he was crying too. I remember how pleased I was to learn he felt the same way. Between eye-wiping and nose-blowing， I told him， " I don't ever want another dog. It hurts too much when they die."
" You're right about the hurt， son，" he answered， " but that's the price of love."
The next day， after conferring with the vet and the family， I reluctantly agreed to have Scampy's leg amputated. " If a child's faith can make him well，" I remarked to Shirley，" then he'll recover four times over." And he did. Miraculously. If I needed any proof that he was his old self， it came a short time after his operation. The remarkable thing was the way he compensated24 for his missing appendage25. He invented a new stroke for his lone rear leg， moving it piston-like26 from side to side to achieve both power and stability. His enthusiasm and energy suffered no loss. " The best thing about Scampy，" a neighbor said， " is that he doesn' t know he's got a handicap. Either that or he ignores it， which is the best way for all of us to deal with such things."
For better than five years， Scampy gave us an object lesson in courage， demonstrating what it means to do your best with what you've got. On our daily runs， I often carried on conversations with him as if he understood every word. " I almost shipped you out27 as a pup." I'd recount to him， " but the kids wouldn't let me. They knew how wonderful you were." It was obvious from the way he studied my face and wagged his tail that he liked to hear how special he was.
He probably would have continued to strut28 his stuff29 for a lot longer had he been less combative30.One warm August night he didn't return at his normal time， and the next morning he showed up， gasping for air and bloody around the neck. He obviously had been in a fight， and I suspected a badly damaged windpipe or lung." Scampy， when will you learn？" I asked as I petted his head. He looked up at me with those trusting eyes and licked my hand， but he was too weak to wag his tail. Christopher and Daniel helped me sponge him down and get him to the vet， but my diagnosis proved too accurate. By midday Scampy was gone.
That evening Christopher and I drove to the vet's office， gathered up Scampy and headed home. Scampy' s mother， Heidi， had died at fifteen， just a few months before； now we would bury him next to her in the woods by the garden.
As we drove， I tried to engage Christopher in conversation， but he was silent， apparently sorting through his feelings." I' ve seen lots of dogs， Christopher，" I said，" but Scampy was something special." " Yep，" he answered， staring into the darkness.
只要别让孩子们给它起名，准能奏效。
我先是固执己见地说道，"没有人家需要两只狗的。"我又援引我们家定的动物不命名规定。禁止给没列入濒危物种名单上的动物命名，因为在我们家，被命名的动物就成为要喂养的宠物。"可我们总得管它叫个什么呀，"我们那四个孩子抗议道。
"那好吧，就叫它X狗，"我建议说。孩子们个个都皱起眉头，可我希望这事会像肥皂泡般很快飘逸消失，这是理想的处理办法。
但是，我的不取名策略结果是彻底的失败。早在小狗断奶之前，孩子们已经偷偷地管它叫"小淘气"；我还没有明白过来，小狗已经像我们家壁炉似地永远固定在那儿，成为家庭不可分割的一员。
我一肚子闷气，要是我们家附近的那只杂种狗安迪待在大街那边，本来什么事都没有。但是这条14岁、模样邋遢、有关节炎的混种狗，瘸着腿进了我们家院子，跟我们的纯正刚毛犬，10岁老处女海迪亲密了一番。直到我们在佛罗里达度春假的一天半夜里，我们才知道海迪已经身怀六甲。我原以为那呻吟的声音来自大海。经过一番调查，发现那是海迪在发出阵痛的呻吟。我妻子雪莉说海迪在分娩。天亮时海迪阵痛不减，可仍未分娩。我们找到一位兽医，他告诉我们说，肚子里的小狗太大，挡住了产道，海迪有生命危险。我们整天一筹莫展，每隔一两个小时就给兽医打电话，了解最新情况。到了傍晚，我们的狗才脱离危险。
"它怀了三只，"兽医说，"可只活了一只。"孩子们朝那只小公狗瞧了一眼，它像是一只五颜六色又脏又乱的线团。孩子们叫出声来，"安迪！长得跟安迪一模一样！"
"你以前见到过这么难看的狗吗？"我问雪莉。"它挺可爱的，"她赞赏地回答。"我只希望有别人也这么想。它跟我们的日子不会太长。"但是这话还不如不说。X狗长到了10周，孩子们喜欢得不得了，狗对他们的吸引力比固定在船底上的甲壳动物的附着力还大。我尽可能不搭理它。有一桩事我不能否认：那小狗有一副看门狗的耳朵，能发现从车道或院子里传？的每一个声响。孩子们骑车出去或我换上跑鞋的时候，它就跟着我们。要是落在后面，它就追逐松鼠。有时候我说漏嘴，也叫它"小淘气".
然而，经过半年我们家人的喂养和宠爱，小狗在秋天遭遇了挫折。它多赶了一只松鼠到街上，刺耳的刹车声告诉我们这回出事了。汽车轧断了它的左后腿，兽医给它上了夹板。日后我们听到完全恢复的诊断结果时无不感到宽慰。但是一周后，又出事了。
"坏疽，"有一天晚上雪莉告诉我说。"兽医说要么截肢，要么只有安乐死。"我听了，一下子重重地坐在了椅子上。"别无选择，"我说道。"让一条像'小淘气'这样好动的狗一辈子靠三条腿艰难地活着，太不公平了。"突然间，一直在偷听的孩子们飞进屋来。"有一条腿残疾的人不会被人杀死，"史蒂夫和拉雷恩争辩说。为了争取时间，我对孩子们说，"我们明天再作决定。"孩子们上床之后，我和雪莉又谈起这事。她同情地说道，"让'小淘气'去死，孩子们是难以接受的。"
"尤其是克里斯托弗，"我回答说。"我失去奎尼的时候，跟克里斯托弗差不多大。"接着我告诉雪莉我那心爱的狗的事。那是条体态优美的尖嘴竖耳白丝毛狗，跑的时候轻软的一身毛飘动起来像是滚滚浪涛。可是奎尼的两条后腿丧失了活动的功能。最后我爸爸说只能安乐死以解脱它的痛苦。"可是它会好的，"我哀求道。我一遍又一遍祈求上帝助它能重新行走，但它的情况越来越坏。
有一天晚饭之后，我去地下室，奎尼平时就躺在炉子旁边。在楼梯最底下我碰上了爸爸。他面无血色，手里拿着一块怪味浓重的布头。"我很难过，奎尼死了， "他轻声地告诉我。我泪如泉涌，扑入爸爸的怀抱，我不知道哭了多久，但过了片刻，我发现他也哭了。如今我还记得当我知道爸爸的感受和我一样的时候，我是多么地高兴。我擦着眼泪，擤着鼻涕，告诉他说，"我再也不要狗了，狗死的时候，太让人伤心了。"
"儿子，你说得对，是太伤心，"我爸爸回答说，"可这正是爱的代价。"
第二天，我跟兽医和全家商量之后，勉强同意给"小淘气"做截肢手术。"如果孩子的信念能使它康复，"我对雪莉说，"那它就会很快恢复成原来的'小淘气 '."奇迹果然发生了，它完全康复了。截肢手术后没多久，"小淘气"就证明了这一点。真正了不起的是它克服四肢不全的方法。它创造了一种单条后腿跑跳的新方法，腿像活塞似地左右摆动，既有劲又稳定。"小淘气"的热情和精力丝毫未减。"'小淘气'最棒的是，"一个邻居说"它没有意识到自己身体上有障碍，要不然就是它不介意有障碍。我们就应该像它这样对待生理上的缺陷。"
在5年多的时间里，"小淘气"教我们懂得什么是勇气，尽其所能全力投入生命的意义所在。每天跑步时，我常常和"小淘气"说点什么，好像它能听懂我说的一切。"你刚生下时我就差点儿把你赶走，"我对它说。"可孩子们不让，他们知道你有多棒。"从它盯着我脸、摇晃着尾巴的样子看，很明显它喜欢听人说他有多么地不一般。
"小淘气"如果不是那么好斗，或许能有更多的时间继续炫耀它的技巧。8月里一个暖和的夜晚，"小淘气"没有按时回来，第二天早上才露面。他大口喘气，脖子上都是血。显然，它又去打架了。我怀疑它气管或肺部受到严重损伤。"'小淘气'，你什么时候才懂事啊？'我一边轻拍它的头，一边问道。它以信任的目光仰头看着我，舔舔我的手，但他过于衰弱已无力晃动尾巴。克里斯托弗和丹尼尔帮我用海绵擦它全身，把它送往兽医诊所。这次我的判断准确无误。中午时分，"小淘气"死了。
那天傍晚，我和克里斯托弗开车去了诊所，抱起"小淘气"，往回家路上驶去。"小淘气"的妈妈海迪刚在几个月之前去世，它活了15年。我们要在花园边的树林里把"小淘气"和它葬在一起。
开车的路上，我试着跟克里斯托弗聊天，可他却缄默不语，很显然他脑子里千头万绪，感情上一时还难以接受。"克里斯托弗，我见到过不少狗，"我说道，"可是'小淘气'与众不同。"他茫然凝视着黑暗的夜色，回答了个"对".
注释：
1.dogmatically adv.固执己见地，武断地
2.invoke vt.援引，（作为根据）提出
3.anonymity n.无名，匿名
4.generic adj.一般的，普通的
5.dismal adj.不高明的，软弱无力的
6.wean vt.使断奶
7.fume vi.发怒，怒气冲冲地说话
8.arthritic adj.患关节炎的
9.hobble vi.一瘸一拐地行走，跛行
10.tê te-à-tê te n.亲密，亲热
11.schnauzer （r）]n.髯狗
12.in labor 分娩
13.wring one's hands （over sth.）苦恼地绞扭双手
14.ragamuffin n.衣衫褴褛的儿童
15.homely adj.不好看的
16.barnacle n.附着甲壳动物
17.gangrene n.坏疽
18.amputate vt.截（肢 ）
19.eavesdrop vt.偷听
20.statuesque adj.体态优美的
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