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Dook

Willson’s Cove, North Carolina, June 2009

Dook, a hound of some various mixed origins, was the Seventh Dook of Willson’s Cove. Anytime someone came, he greeted the guests as royally as he knew how. He sniffed the feet of those he rarely saw and wagged his tail and barked as friendly as he could to those more familiar. He even let his fractional beagle ancestry shine in his lovely roar.

Today he was more excited than usual; more guests than usual. All this had begun eleven months before when Susan, one of his very favorite subjects, had brought a nice fellow to pay homage. The man had shared his ham sandwich.

Now there was promise of far more than a ham sandwich from the delightful scents coming from the casseroles being carried into the house of his dookdom. It was a wedding feast.