A Home for Goddesses and Dogs by Leslie Connor

Author:Leslie Connor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

34

Being She-Janus

February . . . the time of the Storm Moon.

My mother was not there to say the words to me. I never guessed I’d miss hearing them. (To be honest, I used to roll my eyes.)

Mom . . . I was actually paying attention. . . . Storm Moon . . . time for planning your future. . . .

Mine seemed hard to see.

Begin spring cleaning . . . sweep out cobwebs . . .

Well, I’d been doing that.

Burn purifying incense and white candles . . .

Mom had loved candles, but they were too dangerous in a house with an oxygen tank.

Prepare for new growth . . .

Well, maybe somewhere.

The Storm Moon did bring storms—the first heavy snows I’d seen in Chelmsford.

There were school closings, and I was alone at the house with Elloroy and the dogs more than before. A plow came to clear the drive on Pinnacle Hill. But the porch steps and paths all had to be shoveled, snow had to be swept off the woodpile. I stayed busy, and most of the time Guffer was not far from my side—even at night. Ever since he’d quit soiling the rug, he could be out of the crate at night and free to choose where he wanted to sleep. Most nights, he chose me. He’d land beside my bed—a heap and sigh—and he’d still be there in the morning.

On the snowy evenings, while Aunt Brat was still making her way back from the university, I’d leash Guffer and go down the hill to pick up the mail so she wouldn’t have to stop. (The boxy car did better on the snowy hill when it could have a running start.)

Here in Chelmsford we had a mail carrier named Jaycinda. I’d seen her often, wearing bright athletic leggings, tall boots, and an anorak. She’d hop out of the truck and sink her whole leg into the snowbank if that’s what it took to get the mail into the box.

After a daylong storm with snow still falling, I doubted her. But when I popped the door to the mailbox, a neat stack of envelopes had been delivered.

“That’s because Jaycinda is a goddess,” I told Guffer.

Apparently, Jaycinda also delivered our firewood. I hadn’t seen that firsthand—not yet. But it was a household topic. There was a precise time to call to get on the delivery list. It gave me a little frosting of guilt to think how much heat was being lost through the crawl space—my goddess gallery.

Guffer’s collar jingled as he shook the falling snow off his coat. I tucked our mail inside my jacket—well, not our mail; it was theirs: Aunt Brat’s, Eileen’s, and Elloroy’s. Nothing ever came for me. I chirped to the dog, “Ready? Let’s go home!” (“Home” was a word we were trying to teach him.) He bounced along beside me. This dog loved snow.

For fun, I crossed into the yard where the snow was over my boots. Guffer tucked his nose deep down. He came up, shook, and dove down again.

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