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Comfort October 2005 Jessica Connelley’s ears swiveled at the front door slamming shut followed by the sound of 11-year-old footpaws running up the steps. A moment later, came the bang of a bedroom door slamming. Jessie slipped the chicken casserole she had been preparing into the oven, wiped her hands on a towel, and ascended the stairs to the second floor. She knocked gently on the door of her son’s bedroom. “Roy, is everything okay?” There was no answer, but the German Shepherd’s sensitive ears detected the sound of a sniffle behind the door. Jessie twisted the knob and looked in. Llewelyn Roy Connelley sat on his bed, his back to the headboard and his knees pulled up to his chest. His tail was pulled up between his legs and, although his mother didn’t catch him at it, the very tip was wet indicating that the young boy had been chewing on it. That puppyhood habit now surfaced only rarely, whenever Roy was extremely upset about something. Jessica sat at the foot of the bed. “What’s the matter, Sweetie?” The smaller Shepherd wiped at the damp under his eyes with the back of his paw, but said nothing. His mother tried again, “You know I can’t help if you don’t tell me.” “That twpsyn pure-bred Donald Kingsley.” Jess didn’t know who Donald Kingsley was, but her son’s deliberate use of the term ‘pure-bred’ gave her a clue to the reason he was so distressed. “Is Donald Kingsley in your class?” she prompted. Roy shook his head. “He’s a seventh-grader.” “Do you want to tell me more?” “He called me a mixed-breed and he said…” The young dog halted and rubbed at his eyes again. Jessica tilted her head to the side. “And he said what?” “And he said Grandpa was a dirty faggot coyote.” “Oh, Roy.” Jessica scooted closer to her son and reached out to hug him to her chest. She licked his ear and stroked the tan blaze of fur on the top of his head. “Sometimes kids can say cruel things and I know it’s hard to ignore them. I don’t know exactly why this Donald would call you names, but I can make a guess.” “Why?” “People usually say things like that when they want to feel like they are better than you.” Jess gently moved her son’s tail-tip away from his muzzle and continued, “I bet there’s something he doesn’t like about himself and the only way he can deal with it is to find some way to convince himself that he’s better than everybody else. Even if he is no better at all. “They say ‘names will never hurt me’ but I know that it still does sometimes. Just try to remember that there is no shame in being what you are because you…” Jessica gave her son a couple of extra tight squeezes for emphasis, “…got all the best parts of a G-Shep and a coyote rolled into one beautiful package.” “Did kids ever make fun of you for being a mixed-breed?” “No, Honey, but when I was in school, I didn’t know who my daddy was and some kids tried to make fun of me for that.” “What did you do?” “I went home every night and hugged my mom and my grandpa and thought about how much they loved me. Because those are the people who really matter the most, not the people like Donald Kingsley.” Jessie put a paw under her son’s chin and lifted his head so their eyes met. “Your daddy knew I was a mixed-breed and he asked me to marry him anyway. He loves me and he loves you. Just try to remember that, Honey, and try your best to ignore and stay away from this Donald kid.” The young canine grabbed his tail and wrung it in his paws. “Is Grandpa a dirty faggot?” Jessica looked sternly at her son. “That’s a terrible word, Roy,” she admonished, “and I don’t want to hear you using it. Do you know what it means?” Roy, chastised, looked down at his feet. “I think so,” he said, “it means he likes boys.” Jessica took a deep breath. She hadn’t expected to be having a conversation like this with her son at age 11, but here it was. “Well, that’s part of it,” she said. “Grandpa lived with Uncle Roy for a lot of years and they made each other very happy. But he’s been living with Grandma for a long time now too, and you know what?” “What?” “They made me!” Jess tapped a finger on her own chest and smiled. “Just like your daddy and I made you out of love, Grandpa and Grandma made me out of the same kind of love. Do you know what that means?” The young boy shook his head. “It means,” said his mother, “that your grandpa has more love in his heart than anybody I know. And that makes him the best in the world.” The corners of the young dog’s lips curled up in a smile, “What about Daddy?” Jessica chuckled and said with a secretive whisper, “He’s in second place, but it’s a really close second.” Roy’s smile grew wider, “What about you?” Jess ruffled up her son’s head fur. “You’ll have to ask Daddy about that one.” She kissed her offspring on his cheek and stood. “Feeling a little better now?” Roy nodded, “Yeah.” “Okay then.” As Jessica reached the door, she turned to look back at her pup. “Go wash your face and paws, okay? Then come downstairs and help me set the table. Daddy will be home soon.” “Mommy?” “Yes, Roy?” “I love you.” “I love you too, Sweetie.” “Maybe Donald Kingsley doesn’t have love like we do,” said the young canine, “maybe that’s why he said those things.” Jessica was heartened by her son’s flash of insight. She nodded, “Maybe you’re right.” “That’s really sad.” Jess blinked a tear from her eye. “Yes, Roy, it’s terribly sad.”