But the most dramatic change in Betty Brogan’s life manifested itself in the form of her dog, Hush Puppy, a concoction of canine parts reminiscent of Dr. Frankenstein’s work. Hush Puppy became her constant companion. A gift from Everett Thornton before his sudden, mystifying self-exile to the West Coast, Hush was an ugly mutt that favored some kind of terrier mixed with maybe a pug or a boxer. White with brown marks, his head seemed to be stitched on lopsided and he walked like a drunken sailor. His unbelievably long tongue hung down like undercooked liver and one ear was misshapen. Oddly, he never barked, never uttered a sound beyond an occasional whimper. He seemed rather like a cartoon dog drawn by a disturbed child. But Betty believed him to be a rapturous beauty, a glorious canine stud, a constant reminder of her one true love. She dressed Hush in elaborate costumes Cora sewed and paraded him around her yard like a fashion model. On Monday H.P. might be a harlequin, on Tuesday a cowboy, and later in the week a princess. He ate steak and ham and chicken on the family China at Betty’s feet, a tiny napkin affixed to his collar. Once a year Betty held an elaborate birthday party for Hush with cake and presents, a little conical paper hat perched on his overly large head. As well, Hush occupied his own bedroom, though he most often slept at Betty’s cold feet.
According to Betty’s attorney, Braxton Collier, who once and perhaps still pined for Betty and rambled when drunk at parties, she had tried to establish a trust for H.P. in the event of her untimely death, a fact confirmed by Lefty Hodges, another of her discards, who attended the same liquor-fueled parties. It seemed H.P. was her sole beneficiary aside from a stipend for Cora and Handyman Henry, whose most important duty was to scoop Hush’s leavings from the yard and paint the Justice House trim ridiculous colors such as lilac or sunset orange to match Miss Betty’s unpredictable moods.
Hush Puppy, according to legend, was a brilliant scholar. Betty would lay magazines on the floor at her feet and he would “read” them, pawing at the pages for her to turn. His face was wildly expressive, able to convey paragraphs with a simple nod of the head or crinkle of his nose, using a language only Betty understood. “What,” she might question him, “you think war in Vietnam is inevitable? You, mister, are watching too much television for your own good.” Passersby often found Betty and H.P. frolicking in her shadowy yard, strolling among the rose bushes, zinnias, and daylilies, chatting under the clematis-laden pergola, or rocking on the plantation porch that ran the width of the imposing house. Once, Stick Hawkins, after a plumbing call, reported seeing Betty paint Hush’s nails. Clara Truman, at the veterinary office out on Lower Schoolhouse Road, let slip at a Tupperware party that Betty had inquired about braces to straighten the hound’s crooked teeth. When Betty drove the Colonel’s burgundy Hudson around town H.P. sat in the passenger seat like a movie star in the Rose Bowl Parade.
Few others caught glimpses of Betty and H. P.’s secretive lives, their private dance parties, listening to Johnny Cash or Tammy Wynette or Glen Campbell on the radio. No one noticed when Betty sat on her porch sharing a teacup with Hush. Heads did not turn when Betty took out a small advertisement in the Summitville Sentinel wishing Hush Puppy a happy fifteenth birthday which included a grainy black and white photograph of him wearing a tiara and sparkly necklace. That was just Batty Betty living her lunatic life in her lovely but creepy, haunted house.
