SandScript 2020

Brianna Vega
Cactus Juice
Drawing, Pigma Micron, Paint Markers, 5.5”x8.5”
VISUAL ART
his little Jack dog, who was now circling me
and growling. I had carried my big canvas
veterinary bag with me as I got out of the
car, and now I kept it low in front of me,
holding it in my left hand with my arm
extended, keeping the bag between me and
snarling Jack.
“Come on up, Doc!” the man called.
“He won’t hurt you.”
I started around the hitching posts,
keeping my bag between Jack and my legs,
but Jack kept circling around, barking like
mad, charging from different directions,
trying to get behind me, trying to get past
my bag. “Uh…How about you bring a leash
down here and catch him up for me? He’s
feeling a little nervous about things,” I
called back to the man. He was Flanagan, I
assumed—I’d only talked to his wife on the
phone—but we’d obviously not made it to
the introduction stage yet.
“Oh, he’s alright,” Flanagan yelled
from the porch.
I looked at the dog at my feet again
as we continued our strange little dance. He
was still snarling and trying to maneuver
around my big bag; I was moving my bag
enough to keep it between him and me,
while simultaneously keeping an eye on the
rest of my surroundings, which were so far
proving to be nothing but hostile territory.
Jack was a cute little thing, but when a dog
acts aggressively around me, I tend to take
what he tells me at face value. Maybe he
just wanted to sniff me; then again, maybe
he had some more nefarious desire, one that
perhaps included biting a hole in my leg and
tasting my blood. A quick glance back at
the porch revealed Flanagan still standing
there, rubbing the black-and-tan’s head
and observing Jack and me with a bored
amusement. No help there.
“You’re a sweet little devil, aren’t you,
Jack?” I whispered calmly to the dog while
fishing a slip-lead out of my bag. Even little
dogs can hurt you if they bite you. But I’d
worked with all kinds of dogs for years, all
kinds of animals, for that matter, and I knew
that keeping fear out of my voice, as well
as a sense of humor, proceeding cautiously,
and understanding their psychology would
go a long way. “Yeah, you’re a handsome
little shit, and I say that as one handsome
little shit to another,” I said, smiling,
breathing, and using a quiet, dreamy tone
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