Pickle Foot and Bear Claw: A Journey Home
Ellen Matos
Paperback, 5x8 in, 128 pages, Illustrated
Wheatmark, October 2008
ISBN: 9781604940732
Description
Pickle Foot and Bear Claw is the story of two strays looking
for a home. As they travel from place to place, they encounter
hardships, but also acceptance, tolerance, and love. Each
destination teaches them a new lesson about who they are -- and
what they are truly capable of.
Now they will share their adventures with you.
Excerpt
I was born in the month of March, in an awful place, to people that
should have never had animals. I look just like my daddy and have
his temperament, too. He was gentle and kind even though his life
was so hard with this family. He and my mother had fur so matted
that it hurt them to walk, and my dad had such an eye infection
that I don't know if he ever saw me clearly. But he knew I
was like him, so he nurtured me the best that he could. Food was
scarce in this place, so my dad taught me to catch bugs and eat
them for the protein I needed to get bigger and stronger. It was
never enough to make me feel full, and I always went to sleep
hungry. I think that's why I love food so much now.
My skin itched, and bugs would crawl on me and burrow beneath my
fur. It hurt so much. I never slept anywhere but in the backyard of
this terrible house, and I had no one to soothe my hurts. I dreamed
every day about running away but didn't have the courage to
strike out on my own.
My soon-to-be-best friend Pickle Foot promptly changed my fear
into freedom the day his furry little fifteen-pound profile came up
the driveway. I looked at him curiously because he was so different
from me, but he had a little skip in his step and a twinkle in his
eye that made me anxious to know him better.
Even before I had a chance to ask, he announced that I was in
the presence of the King of the Road, Pickle Foot. I giggled at his
name, but he interrupted my laughter. "What's your name?" he asked.
"I don't think that I have a real name because no
one has ever called me anything but 'dog' or 'bad dog,'" I whispered.
"Oh, no," he said. "That will never do." He looked me right in the eye. "If you're going to be
traveling with me, you'll need a name: a perfectly descriptive name."
I had not really given thought to going anywhere with him. Gee, I didn't even know what kind of dog he was. Almost as if he were reading my thoughts, he shouted at me in a howling voice, "I am an exotic blend of papillon and Pomeranian, but it matters not what I am. It matters who I am, and I am here to free you from this place." He could tell I was afraid to leave and be on my own. "The worst day on the road will be better than the best day staying in this awful place," he assured me. "I will assist you in getting to know what freedom is like. Besides, you will never be alone because I will travel with you and teach you the rules of the road. But only if you have a proper name."
He examined me thoroughly. "I think you are a blend of an English cocker spaniel and American cocker. Your paws are as big as bear claws." He paused. "That's it -- your name will be Bear Claw."
Bear Claw. I thought that sounded important and poetic and a spot-on description of what I had believed to be my clumsy-looking feet.
"Your feet are powerful," Pickle Foot bellowed, "and power is a good thing." He was a quirky little guy, but I decided to trust him and escape from my unhappiness. It was somehow as exciting as it was frightening. We waited until dusk and escaped into the blackness of night.
