F is for Finster

F is for Finster

Once upon a time, my twin sister had a miniature schnauzer named Finster. He originally belonged to her ex-husband, but when they split up he left the dog. Sister always said it was to punish her, but we all knew it was because that dog doted on her. Finster worshiped Tonie like the goddess she was to him. Provider of food. Giver of belly rubs. And she loved him too.

This is not Finster. But it is a schnauzer.

He was a super scared dog. I don’t mean scary as in frightening, I mean scared as in scared of everything else that wasn’t Finster. And sometimes even Finster too. Oh. My. God. This dog was ridiculous. I have seen some nervous dogs in my life, but this dog took the fucking cake. He peed when a newborn kitten was placed in front of him. He peed when he heard fireworks going off. He peed at the sight of his own shadow.

No.

Seriously.

This thing would lose it if he caught sight of the blob that made up his own shadow. I wished I was using hyperbole. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen him shaking at his own freaking shadow. Poor thing.

Tonie and the dog were inseparable. Finster went everywhere with her. She moved in with us after she split with her maniac ex-husband, and Finster became part of the family. She brought him to events and family get-togethers. They were never apart.

We used to call him a chicken dog. A dog in a chicken suit. Chicken Finster. Chicken McChicks-a-lot.  Finster the eternal fool. He was a sweet dog, don’t get me wrong. But boy was he ever terrified of everything that moved. Or didn’t move. Or existed. Or didn’t exist. Or even thought about existing.

Not Finster, but he would've worn it.

There is a character on the kid’s show Oswald named Henry the Penguin. He always reminded me of Finster. “Nope, not gonna do it. Too scary.”

Finster died a few years ago. It was real sudden and unexpected. Sister was crushed but she moved on. We buried him in the back yard amongst the other passed on animals. (When you live in one place long enough, and have as many pets as we do, you get quite a collection of dead animals.)

Buy me here!

The reason I mention Finster is because I recently feature the little furball in a novel. That’s right. I wrote my sister’s dead dog into Hauling Ash. The schnauzer in the story is just like Finster. Nervous and pouty. Talkative but shy. His ears aren’t docked, nor is his tail. Neither were Finster’s. And yeah, I named the dog in the story Finster.

It’s kind of weird writing a pet into a story like that. It was almost dangerous. I mean, you have to be real careful how you handle people’s fur babies. Pets are like kids, folks can be real sensitive to how you portray them in your work. I mean, they know it’s just fiction, but if I’d have done something awful to the mutt in the story, Tonie would’ve had my liver for breakfast.

I didn’t do anything bad to him, by the way. No. And I didn’t just poke him between the pages to honor his memory. Finster is, in fact, a kind of plot point. He brings the other characters together in a unique way. Later he becomes a bargaining chip. You’ll have to read it to understand why and how.

Out of all of the dogs I have ever interacted with, I have to say Finster was my favorite. I miss the little guy.

I hope you’re peeing it up in the Summerlands, little man.

Pee on someone for me!