This week on On the Shelf, I’ve been combing through my dusty pile of unfinished stories—and I found one that surprised me. I started writing The Pick during the pandemic, and like many things from that time, it was set aside before it had a chance to become what it wanted to be.
So I’ve decided to finish it here, in the public eye, one part at a time.
This is a coming of age story about a young woman, a dog, and the quiet weight of decisions we don’t fully understand until it’s too late. It’s about love, grief, obligation, and what it means to care for another being when you’re not sure you can care for yourself.
Olive had agreed to this, although now that it was done, she was fairly certain it had been the wrong thing to do—the absolute wrong thing. Aunt Eugenia was to blame. She was the one who had insisted Olive take care of the dog in the first place. Later, she was the one who defined the terms of ownership. Upon reflection, Olive saw clearly that it had all been a big mistake. She never should have trusted Eugenia—never should have agreed to take the dog.
As the car bumped down the dirt road through the vineyard, away from the breeder’s1 house, a lump formed in Olive’s throat. Clouds hung heavy and dark above the valley. Lily let out an anxious whine from the back seat. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Olive caught sight of Lily’s black nose and brown eyes, barely visible beneath her overgrown white fringe. Lily panted, her pink tongue pulsing with each breath. Olive had known something was wrong the moment she saw Lily. It was as if a light had gone out in her. She had been betrayed—and Olive had been the one to betray her.
She had entered into the deal three years earlier, although at the time she hadn’t really understood what it was she agreed to; she had been tricked. Olive tries to remember how she’d been roped into this. She was on her way to work, hurling down Interstate 5 toward the barn when she felt her phone vibrating. She knew who it was—Eugenia. It was always Eugenia. Aunt Eugenia, her mother’s younger sister, had felt responsible for her since her parents’ death in an automobile accident a few years earlier. She failed to understand that Olive was now an adult, that she had her own life. The truth of the matter was that Eugenia needed Olive more than Olive needed her—which is why Olive always answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Liv! So glad to reach you,” Eugenia said, as if she had been trying to get through for days without success.
“What’s up?” Olive asked, half-dreading the response. Eugenia was one of those people who only operated in two modes: advice and favor. She had always just read about the latest miracle treatment for wrinkles or the newest alternative therapy for whatever was ailing her, and was sure it was something Olive needed too. It is never too early to get started on wrinkle prevention, she would say.
“I was just calling to ask for a favor,” Eugenia said.
Olive considered this for a moment. “Sure. What is it?”
“Eva just called to see if I was ready to take my pick from our litter.”
Eugenia was a dog breeder of sorts. She had never had children or stayed in a relationship long enough to have them, at least to Olive’s knowledge. Instead, she had become one of those people who diverted their maternal instincts to pets—dogs and cats mostly, but she had also tried her hand with chickens and potbellied pigs. Thank God she’d given up on those.
“Anyway, I’m up to the gills with puppies at the house right now, and was wondering if you’d mind taking care of my pick-puppy for a week or so. Just a week, I promise. I just need to ship a few of mine to buyers before bringing her into the house.”
Olive could read easily between the lines. Eugenia had been insisting that she really needed was a dog—that a dog would help ease her sorrow over the loss of her parents. As if a dog could fill the void left by their absence. How she missed them. How she felt guilty about every unkind word she had thrown at them, especially the night of the accident. The last thing she needed was a dog; she could barely take care of herself, let alone another breathing creature.
“Sounds like that’s going to take more than a week,” Olive said.
“I promise—just a week,” insisted Eugenia. “I’m shipping three of the pups next week. Please, Liv?”
Olive acquiesced. “Okay, but no more than a week.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to me.”
“Don’t mention it.” Olive knew, even then, that she had entered into an agreement she might come to regret. With Eugenia, things were always more complicated than they seemed at first glance.
“Oh—and,” Eugenia continued, “it would work best for me if you went over to Eva’s to pick the puppy up, since Eva lives closer to you.”
Eva didn’t live exactly close by; she lived an hour drive south, near Eugene. Olive knew the real reason: Eugenia and Eva were embroiled in a squabble about money. They had made a deal to split the profits from the litter, but Eva had reneged, instead offering Eugenia the pick of the litter.
“Sure,” Olive said. “I can do that. Is she expecting me?”
“Yes. I told her you’d stop by later tonight or tomorrow. Hope that works.”
Olive took a deep breath, annoyed at the presumption. “It’ll have to be tomorrow. I’m teaching classes tonight at the barn.” Eugenia had manipulated her again—a pattern that was all too familiar. “Gotta go. Just pulled into the lot at the barn. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” And then, surprising herself, she said, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Eugenia said, and hung up.
Continue to Part 2: A Place of Her Own
If you are reading along with the audio file you may have noticed I have replaced the word Eva’s with breeder’s. I made this change after publishing the first part, because I decided to do something different later in the story than what I original thought I was going to do.
We (People) don’t own dogs or cats or any pets, we are guardians. I think Olive understood this and hence problems. Very beautifully written. Can’t wait for part 2