WE CALLED him Chili. I think dad gave him the name, but e him the name, but W I can’t remember why. It was 40 years ago, and I was only ten at the time. I can remember almost every single day afterward, but all I can remember of Chili’s arrival is a big, friendly, yellow mutt of indeterminate lineage wandering up to the house one day, skinny and filthy and friendly in the way of almost every unwanted, dumped-off dog I’ve ever known. And like every other unwanted, dumped-off dog I’ve ever known, he stole my heart and became my best friend.
We lived on a small acreage outside town, just my parents and me. No siblings, no neighbor friends to play with. I was a quiet, bookish, nature-obsessed…