Free’s Tale
No Home at Christmas-time
written by: Gabriella Balcom
Brilliant lights flashed in a steady rhythm –– red, yellow, blue, green –– repeating the pattern again and again. Outdoor speakers played Christmas songs one after another. “Silent Night,” “Away in a Manger,” and other traditional songs were interspersed with more light-hearted fare like “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” and “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”
People streamed up and down sidewalks, cut back and forth across streets, and swarmed in and out of stores, all of which were offering extended hours to bolster sales during the holiday season. Voices rang out as shoppers searched with ferocious determination for the perfect gift, nabbed completely different things than what they’d originally planned on, and occasionally grabbed one of everything.
The wind was biting, not surprising with the twenty-five-degree temperature. Three inches of snow lay on the ground, leftover from yesterday’s surprise snowfall. Six to ten more were anticipated between now and morning. Hail and freezing rain were also expected, according to forecasters, who predicted the storm could cause black ice overnight. While people living in areas which got routine snow and ice might have shrugged about this type of weather, Texans weren’t used to it, and everyone was being advised to stay inside and off the roads if at all possible.
Despite the threat of less-than-optimum weather conditions, happiness suffused the atmosphere. Excitement. Hope. Camaraderie. Friendship. Tolerance. Family ties.
Laughter filled the air as parents herded and hustled children along, chased after the occasional giggling, sparkly-eyed “escapees,” or picked out the best toys for their little ones. Although a few individuals snapped at each other now and then, most were jovial overall. People enjoyed each other’s company, or at least chose to share it. Strangers smiled at one another, their hearts lightened.
However, not every situation was epitomized by sweetness and light. Someone wasn’t the slightest bit joyful or hopeful, and he certainly wasn’t happy.
***
After scanning his surroundings with wary eyes, he took a few cautious steps forward, uncertain of the reception he’d receive if he were seen. Some individuals were kind and welcoming, but he’d learned the hard way that others were unpleasant, or even vicious, for no reason. Therefore, he kept his distance despite being sorely tempted by the delicious food smells in the air, all of which came from the direction of the crowds. Many restaurants and small eateries were open, with individuals, couples, and families entering and exiting, a few nibbling items as they came out. Several vendors maintained food trucks despite the chill, and numerous people took advantage of the selections. He smelled an enticing new aroma every time he sniffed, and his mouth watered like crazy. Roasted turkey legs, hot dogs, pizza, fried chicken, chili, peanuts, popcorn, or cakes –– each scent hit his nose with a hundred times greater intensity than usual and his stomach with even greater force. Maybe that was because water was all he’d had in the last two days. It had been easy to come by and hadn’t required him to get near anyone.
He was uncomfortable now, very much so. His legs were cold. His ears were cold. His nose was cold and runny, and his eyes watered. His entire body felt frozen and he couldn’t stop shivering. A warm place to sleep, or merely rest for a little while, sounded wonderful, but he didn’t have either one and hadn’t in a long time.
When he smelled more tantalizing food from another, less populated direction, he changed course and followed his nose to an open trash can behind Tim’s Eats. He knocked it over so he could get to the contents faster and rummaged through them, desperate for a few bites. Anything would do. He wasn’t disappointed either. The leftovers he found –– mouthfuls of steak, meatloaf, spaghetti, catfish, spinach, corn, slightly singed squash, and cornbread –– combined to provide him a gourmet meal. It was a feast fit for kings, especially compared to eating nothing.
“Hey! Get out of that!” The restaurant owner, Tim, must’ve heard the can tip over, and didn’t seem enthused about someone pawing through his trash. Face turning red, he charged, waving his arms and yelling like a madman. The hungry visitor rummaging for food didn’t flee, because he’d seen a chunk of cheesy garlic bread and wanted to take it with him. Tim tried to kick him and missed, but connected when he tried a second time.
The scavenger yelped, dropped the bread, and eyed it longingly, but left it lying on the ground when he darted away. He glanced backward, saw the furious man pursuing him while carrying something this time, and panicked. Terrorized and unable to think clearly, he didn’t notice what was in his path. Ahead of him, two concrete slabs of sidewalk had shifted over time, one jutting upward and the other having sunk, leaving a hole which had filled with water. Heart racing and mind caught up in trying to get away without further injury, the hungry soul stumbled on the warped sidewalk and plunged head-first into the partially frozen liquid.
Instantly, he scrambled to get out, then noticed his reflection in the swirling water and cringed. He looked like the Mud Monster from Hell. Clumps of mud clung to him along with stray bits of trash, and rivulets of brown slime ran down his face and into his mouth. A bitter, chemical taste hit his tongue and he spat several times. He tried to get the nasty-tasting stuff out of his mouth, but couldn’t, and a foul aftertaste remained.
“Beat it, you worthless mutt!” Tim came straight at him, swinging a broom, and missing his muddy head by a breath.
The mutt in question let out a strangled bark and lunged to the right. He managed to evade Tim’s next broom-swing, but just barely. His legs almost gave way beneath him, and he took off as fast as he could.
Bathing was a luxury he hadn’t had in what seemed like forever, and the sight of his reflection had horrified him. His cream-colored fur, scraggly and matted long before he fell into the water, was also encrusted in muck now. Under that were dirt, bits of grass, and debris.
The goop all over him had begun to freeze and he was getting colder by the second.
Releasing his breath in short pants as he ran, he tried to ignore how he felt and muttered in time with his steps, “These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their County; but he that stands by it now… Ouch!” He’d stepped on a sharp pebble, which lodged between his toes, but he shook it loose and kept moving. “When you get in a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.”
But he fell silent when he noticed a group of people and dogs in front of him. Hoping they wouldn’t bother him, he veered around them. Even so, he couldn’t help but worry they might chase him, too, and renewed panic gave his paws wings. He quickly put distance between them.
***
The Committee watched him flee. While out walking their charges — an enjoyable daily routine for them — they’d seen the stranger being kicked and chased before his subsequent flight. Since he’d just run down their street, they aimed their humans toward home instead of the stores they’d planned to visit. Now that they were heading away from town, their people unfastened their leashes so they could walk freely. The Committee members listened to their charges expressing concern for the change in direction, and smiled at one another. It never failed to warm their hearts, knowing their people thought they were the caretakers, not the cared-for.
Bruno, a German Shepherd and their acknowledged leader, asked the others, “That shaggy male was a real scruffy thing, wasn’t he? He looked like he bathed in a puddle of mud before being electrocuted.” Voice deepening, he continued. “That guy could be a troublemaker, for all we know. To be on the safe side, I suggest we lead him to the church and away from our neighborhood. Reverend Bill is kind and would help him.” The pastor helped strays regularly by putting food out and trying to find homes for them.
Glancing at Charlene, Bruno saw the sympathy reflected in her eyes. “I know that look well, Charlene, but we can’t rescue everyone we come across and take them home with us. Some just aren’t savable, and you know it.”
“The best way to figure out if someone’s savable is to get to know him.” Charlene’s tone was unruffled. A sheepdog, she was the oldest Committee member and was deemed quite wise. “You know, your neighbors are gone and their home is empty.”
“I suggested leading that male away from here, not bringing him home,” he argued. “Remember that Chihuahua we helped? You have to admit she was pure spite and craziness.” They’d tried to help her a few weeks earlier, but she’d turned out to be a rabid people-biter, and had attacked them and their humans alike.
“The Chihuahua was a fluke.” Tanya, a young Collie, tossed her head, sending her long, reddish-gold hair billowing in the brisk wind. “She fooled all of us. She seemed okay at first. How could we know how she’d turn out?”
Bruno snorted. “By listening to me, that’s how. I warned you about her, but you didn’t listen. Either of you.”
“True,” Charlene replied. “But that was then and this is now. I’m concerned about that unhappy fellow, and I think he hasn’t eaten much in a good while. Even with all that dirty fur, he looked very skinny.” She looked at each of her companions in turn, eyes serious. “I think he’s worth our time. Something tells me there’s more to him than meets the eye.”
“I agree.” Tanya grinned at Bruno before eyeing the other female. “Maybe the Great Dog in the Sky is prompting us, Charlene.”
“Maybe he isn’t,” Bruno grumped.
“The two of us outnumber you.” Tanya’s eyes sparkled.
“Really?” he demanded. “I’m ready to argue on this one. You ladies have soft, caring hearts, and that’s a wonderful part of you, but sometimes you’re wrong. And being wrong can endanger both us and our people. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Charlene admitted. “I admit you were right about the Chihuahua, Bruno, and we should’ve listened. But that skinny stranger really isn’t what he seems.”
Bruno sighed.
“He was quoting Thomas Paine and Harriet Beecher Stowe. They’re famous among humans, and a dog who quotes great minds is one I want to meet.”
“Me, too,” Tanya agreed. “We should help him.” A whistle sounded in the distance, and she cocked her head, eyes shining. “That’s my Maxie. Bruno, I appreciate your Sergeant taking me walking while Maxie was at the store, but he’s back. I’ve got to go.”
As Bruno watched her leave, his thoughts returned to the dirty dog they’d seen and he set his disagreement aside. Two did outnumber one, but his vote counted for two since he was Chairman of the Committee, and they knew that as well as he did. But he could easily run the matter by the other members of the Committee if he chose. Some of whom were sure to agree with him.
“What Tanya wants, she typically gets,” Charlene commented.
“Yes, she does.”
“I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. She’s quite lovely, but I’ve never known her to use her looks or what you males call “feminine wiles” to try and get her way.”
“Neither have I.” Bruno recalled when she’d first moved to their block, and how surprised he’d been to learn she wasn’t spoiled. In fact, he’d been caught off guard by several aspects of her personality: how generous she’d been in sharing her food and toys with needy dogs, the way she’d cavorted back and forth through the mud with neighborhood children, how she hadn’t been dismayed when her coat got dirty and much more. Now and then, she demonstrated unexpected insight, too. Not all the time, but enough that he’d learned to give her the benefit of the doubt.
As far as Charlene, she was right much more than she was wrong. He still believed she and Tanya were guided by pity rather than reason regarding the unknown dog, but he’d let things play out. If they were right about the stranger, fine. If he was, fine.
Charlene still watched him, clearly waiting for him to say something else. “Whatever the stranger is or isn’t, he was soaked, and we both know what that means. Let’s go find him, shall we? And quickly.”
The two Committee members stepped away from their charges slowly, so as not to alarm them, and darted into a nearby hedge.
***
Glancing behind himself for maybe the thirtieth time, the dog padded down the sidewalk, limping a little despite his efforts not to. His spine tingled, and he suspected he was being followed, even though he hadn’t seen anyone.
Some of the homes he passed had their curtains open, and he sighed heavily as he eyed the happy-looking people moving around inside. A whimper escaped him. Ever since he was tiny, his Mama had told stories of caring people and loving homes, like the one she’d had when she was young. He’d dreamed of the same for himself and longed to bask in the warmth of someone’s love. But the “home” he’d been taken to hadn’t been loving. Unbidden memories flooded his mind — being yanked away from his mother as a pup, crying out for help, and hearing her frantic howls — and he shuddered.
The unpleasant memories sapped his spirits, but his body had had enough, too. Frankly, he just couldn’t keep going, so he slowed down. Despite the few bites from the trash having been a welcome addition to his empty belly, he hadn’t eaten enough to fill him and he was still starving. Even worse, the slightest movement hurt. His body ached everywhere and he felt like he was nothing but a dog-shaped icicle. Staring at his feet, he willed them to keep moving. He couldn’t help but wonder if his life was about to end and sadness threatened to overwhelm him. Lost in misery, he abruptly plowed into someone else and bit his tongue by accident.
“Whoa there,” a deep voice said. “Don’t run. We mean you no harm, and no one’s chasing you anymore.”
The formerly pursued dog whined and sank back, feeling like his heart would stop. His sides, tender from his earlier exertions, still heaved, and he struggled to slow his breathing. Looking up, he saw a large, frowning German Shepherd.
“You need to get out of the cold,” the Shepherd said. “If you don’t soon, you’ll freeze to death.”
“Do I look like I have someplace to go?” The newcomer was tense, expecting to be attacked. He noticed the Shepherd’s well-fed look and immaculate grooming. Were his nails clipped? Also, he wore a large collar that looked quite expensive.
“No, you don’t.” The new voice was pleasant, unmistakably feminine, and came from the dark-brown sheepdog who stepped from behind the Shepherd. “What Bruno said is true.” She eyed her companion, unspoken communication passing between them. “It’s quite cold now but it’s going to get worse soon. Even further below freezing. You need a good bath, a warm place to dry and rest, and I’m certain you could use some food.”
“Yeah, but wishing doesn’t make it possible.” He trembled all over but tried to conceal it. His right front leg, which had been kicked, ached in earnest, so badly he could barely put weight on it. “I’m not a pampered indoor pet like you two.”
He’d noticed her clean fur, the fact she wore what looked like a costly collar also, and knew neither of them could relate to what he was going through.
“Snipe at us if you want…” The sheepdog’s smile remained calm. Unfazed. “But at least follow us while you’re doing it. We can help you with a place to stay.”
The Shepherd ignored his jibe, too. “That Tim who kicked you is worse than a rabid flea and ten times as mean, but not all men are like him. I know that has little meaning coming from me since we’re total strangers, but it’s true. My Sergeant is a good, kind person.”
“Keep talking, but let’s walk at the same time, shall we, Bruno?” the sheepdog said. “When he didn’t respond, she asked the newcomer, “What’s your name, stranger? I’m Charlene.”
“Name?” the stray repeated. His feet were numb and his mind felt that way, too.
“A name is what humans call you, or what you call yourself,” Bruno explained, casting a sideways glance at him.
“You don’t say.” He snorted, started to feel more uncomfortable and dizzy, and fought to stay upright. Trust wasn’t something he granted easily, but he was close to collapse. Forcing his pained body to move, he hoped beyond hope to get somewhere safe enough and warm enough to thaw out. “I must have lots of names then because I think I’ve been called everything. Stop That, Dumb Dog, Crap-for-Brains, Bad Mutt, You Worthless…” He stopped speaking, remembering the unfriendly voices calling him those names. They played through his mind, one after another, and he wished they’d stop.
“I think we can all agree some people can be unpleasant and say and do hurtful things.” Charlene’s voice was soft. Sympathetic. She fell silent for a few steps. “What do you call yourself?”
“Free.”
Bruno and Charlene’s eyes met again, but neither spoke.
The three dogs loped down the sidewalk in silence, traveling down one block, and then a few more.
“All right, Free.” Bruno spoke quietly. He stopped in front of a cornflower-blue house with gray trim. “See the house across the street? Not the one with cars in the driveway, but the one with the empty drive? The people who live there are away. But they have a dog door you’ll fit through. I’m sure it’s comfortable inside and food might’ve been left out.” He paused, and glanced rapidly from side to side. “I’ll do a quick recon and assess the situation.”
“The dog who lives there is a Pomapoo,” Charlene explained as Bruno disappeared into the house. “She got sick and her people took her to a vet. A couple of days later, they had to leave in a hurry to visit a sick relative who lives somewhere else. Since they went so fast, they probably left Peaches’ food and water out inside.”
“Peaches?” Free’s face twisted as though he’d tasted something nasty.
“Yes.” Charlene made a face. “I agree about the name, but it wasn’t my choice.”
Reappearing as fast as he’d vanished, Bruno reported, “It’s nice and warm inside, and food is out. Hopefully, it’s enough to last you through the night. If not and you want more, let us know. We live close by. That’s my home.” He nodded at the blue and gray home in front of which they’d stopped. My Sergeant is quite generous and gives me more than I need. I wouldn’t mind sharing.”
“I’m given extra, too,” Charlene volunteered. “I’m next door in the white house with the green garage and black truck.”
“Why would you help me like this?” Free tilted his head to the side, gazing curiously from one of his new acquaintances to the other. “You don’t know me. For all you know, I could be vicious. I could be rabid.”
“Tim was mean to you but you didn’t hurt him in return.” Bruno lowered his voice, his gaze intense when he turned to Free. “You didn’t even try to, so I don’t think you’re mean or vicious.” Squaring his shoulders, he sat up tall and straight. “Beyond that, I believe there’s right and there’s wrong. Helping you is the right thing to do, and my Sergeant feels as I do. He and I have a military background, and we live by strict guidelines. Help others in need. Be generous and share. It could be you in need someday. Don’t leave a fellow behind…” His voice and stern demeanor softened. “Sergeant would chew my hide if I didn’t follow the rules.” The warmth in his tone and the pride in his eyes revealed how deeply his affection ran for his human.
“And Christmas is almost here, isn’t it?” Charlene smiled at the newcomer. “It’s the season for giving and helping. Welcome to the neighborhood, Free.” When he didn’t respond, instead continuing to study each of them in turn, she added, “I’ll give you a little time to eat, then join you. You’ll want to make use of their tub. To clean up, you know.”
Free did not know but he appreciated their kindness. Lowering his gaze and dipping his head to show respect, he spoke softly. “Thank you.” Then he painstakingly limped toward the home, climbed the steps, and gingerly eased his body through the dog door.
***
Once he was out of sight, Charlene commented, “Yes, there’s more to him than meets the eye. He truly has hidden depths.”
“Hmm,” Bruno responded. “What met my eye most was his nasty fur. And did you notice his stench?”
“Living on the street doesn’t allow for much in the way of sweet smells.”
“I know, but let’s just hope his so-called ‘hidden depths’ aren’t bad ones.”
She eyed him without speaking and he chuckled. “All right. I admit something tells me you may be right about him.”
***
Inside the house, Free located and inhaled the contents of the dog food bowl, a tasty mix of beef, gravy, peas, and rice. He licked the container so many times, no trace of food could possibly have remained.
True to Charlene’s word, she reappeared within minutes of his giving the bowl a last swipe of his tongue. “Follow me,” she said. “We’ll find their tub so you can use it.”
Leading the way in and out of one room, followed by another, she found what she wanted inside the third room she checked. It was a bathtub with large spigots for hot and cold water. Grasping the left spigot with her teeth, she turned it, allowing water to pour out of the faucet.
“Give it a moment,” she cautioned. “It’s usually cold at first but warms up fast. Then I’ll add…”
Not giving Charlene time to finish her sentence, Free stuck his head under the pouring water, yelped, and jerked away. “That’s hot enough to remove my fur.”
“I was about to say if you wait, I can add cold water and adjust the temperature, which will save your fur.”
Charlene proceeded to turn the right spigot with her teeth, adjusted it, and soon the liquid running from the faucet was a comfortable warmth. She grabbed a nearby, round stopper by its top ring, dropped it in the drain, and pressed down firmly with a paw.
“This keeps the water from running out. Once it builds up a little, you can bathe. Don’t let it run too long, mind you, or it will run over the edge.” She stared at him for a moment and amended her words. “On second thought, soaking would do you some good, I think. Let’s wait till the water gets higher, and I’ll turn it off before I step out.” They watched the water level rise, and Charlene eventually turned off the spigots. “I’ll wait on the rug in the front room until you’re finished.”
“Okay.” Free put his first paw over the side and into the water, testing it to make sure it was comfortable, then gingerly eased the rest of himself in. “Ahhh. This is wonderful and…” He realized he was alone and stopped talking.
He soaked for a while, enjoying the warmth. The water felt so good, but his bones remained chilled for some time, and he had to work hard to remove the garbage from his fur. Even so, he couldn’t get all of it out. Once the water began to chill, he climbed out, rolled on the thick, plush rug on the floor, and gave himself a few brisk shakes.
Leaving the room, Free back-tracked the way he and Charlene had come, stepped into the living room, and froze. Five dogs sat on their haunches, facing him in total silence. He recognized only Bruno and Charlene.
***
Bruno spoke first, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact. “I don’t know how long you’ll be in the neighborhood, Free, but the entire Committee wanted to welcome you. We also wanted to go over a few rules.”
“Rules?” Free narrowed his chestnut-colored eyes. He remembered all too well the first rules he’d been taught, and what accompanied them.
“Rules,” Bruno repeated.
Charlene looked at the newcomer with a kind expression, but her eyes were sharp in intensity. “They have their place, Free. First, however, this is Tanner.”
An imposing Great Dane with short, dark-brown fur stepped forward, towering over Free. He said nothing but nodded once in welcome. Free nodded back.
“This is Pancho, but we usually call him Twigs,” Charlene said.
A mini Chi-Poo pranced forward, touched Free’s nose with his own, and spoke in a high-pitched voice, “Welcome, young man.”
Free’s eyes widened and he cocked his head to the side a little. “Young? Pardon my saying so, Sir, but you look pretty young yourself. You couldn’t be much older than me.”
Twigs grinned widely and preened. “Oh, thank you for those words. I can tell we’re going to be friends. But I’m much older than I look. I’m a granddog several times over.” He chuckled. “I love it when newcomers think I’m younger than I truly am.”
Free’s mouth had fallen open at the mention of grandpuppies, but he snapped it shut. “Uh, congratulations. And thank you.”
“This is Tanya,” Charlene continued.
The honey-colored dog with her flowing fur and svelte curves could have made any male’s heart beat a bit faster, and Free acknowledged her beauty even as he said, “Hello.” He wasn’t stupid, though, and said nothing else.
“Hello, Free.” Tanya chuckled. “I love your name, by the way.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a small smile, but kept his mouth shut, since he remained uncertain of what might follow. The proverbial bone was bound to vanish and he was just waiting for it to happen. He was sure bad news was coming. The word “rules” in and of itself could mean anything or nothing, but he’d learned to expect the worst.
“Charlene heard you when you ran by them earlier,” Tanya told him. “She told us you quoted Harriet Beecher Stowe. I like her, too. My human charge reads to me sometimes.”
Free relaxed a little. “Alvin, a man who was my friend, used to teach literature at a school. He told me he was an excellent teacher but lost his job because he drank too much. He lost his family for the same reason, had no one else, and used to read classics to me.”
“Did you live in his home?” Tanya asked.
“Not exactly.” He saw the expectant look in her eyes. “He didn’t have one. Both of us lived on the street.” Thinking of old Alvin, who’d died from the cold long ago, Free’s heart panged. He missed the man. Not only was he one of the few good two-leggeds, but he’d been so generous, always sharing what little he had. However, Free shoved the memories aside and focused on the present.
“I noticed how quiet and tense you are, but there’s no need to be nervous,” Tanya assured him, sincerity suffusing her voice. “We have only good intentions.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Do you know other quotes from literature?”
“A few.”
She smiled winsomely. “Do you have any that would apply to this situation?”
Free noticed Bruno watching them, gaze watchful. Intense. “We are wise to be cautious, but I suggest we prepare for the worst and hope for the best.'” He took a breath before adding, “There are times when fear is good. It must keep its watchful place at the heart’s controls.’”
“I haven’t heard any of that before,” Tanya said. “Who said it?”
“Orson Scott Card said the first part, and Aeschylus the second.”
“Hmm.” Tanner didn’t say anything beyond the sound.
Free thought that commentary without commentary carried a warning. I knew this food and home bit were too good to be true, he mused. Still, he’d gotten a good meal and nice soak out of his brief stay, and would leave the neighborhood feeling much better than when he arrived. But he wondered if he’d get out unscathed.
“Don’t worry. Too much.” Bruno grinned, looking rather like a puppy up to mischief. “We aren’t planning on eating you or anything like that.”
Free was taken aback. The larger male must have picked up on subtleties in his demeanor he hadn’t known he was projecting.
Bruno nodded slightly and said, “On with the rules.” He straightened and held his shoulders in what looked like military precision. “Number One. Respect the home you’re in. It wasn’t built by you and isn’t yours to do just any old thing in. However, the home can benefit you and last if you take care of it, so don’t damage anything. Number Two. That includes not doing your business on the floor, carpets, beds, or anywhere inside. You get the idea, I hope?”
This wasn’t so bad. Not yet anyway. What he’d said was reasonable, so Free nodded. “Yeah. Don’t damage anything and don’t mess or pee inside.”
“Exactly. Moving on… Number Three. Don’t damage includes not chewing wood, cushions, shoes…”
“I got it,” Free said, cutting in. He summarized. “Don’t chew anything except food.”
“Correct. Number Four. Your stay could last several days or even weeks if the people from this house don’t return right away. But it could also end at any time. If it does end prematurely, we’ll try to find you another temporary home. We can’t guarantee we’d find another, but we’d give it our best effort. Number Five. Never bite a human unless you’re experiencing the direst emergency, like if a person has put a tight rope around your neck and you can’t breathe, or if someone is trying to stab you.”
Free’s eyes widened and he winced. Being stabbed sounded horrible. Thank the Great Dog with Endless Bones in the Sky he’d never had to endure that. As far as choking, he knew more than he wished he did. He’d also seen dogs beaten to death and people doing horrible things to one another. But what could this manicured indoor dog know of such things?
Bruno caught him off guard by showing both intelligence and an uncanny ability to read his environment again, or at least others’ expressions. “I didn’t always live in a nice, warm home with a good man,” the German Shepherd shared. But he didn’t volunteer anything else.
“Show him, Bruno. Please.” Tanya’s voice was a ragged whisper.
He frowned, but their eyes met and he sighed. Raising his left paw, he revealed what Free could see were two long, jagged scars on his belly.
Tanya spoke, her words so faint, Free had to strain to hear what she said. “When he was younger, he was…”
“Injured.” Bruno’s tone was harsh. “I was injured and that’s that.” Expression hard and body tense, his manner brooked no opposition.
Body drooping somewhat, Tanya nodded. But she still spoke again. “He’s a true hero.”
“That’s an exaggeration, I assure you,” Bruno commented.
“Don’t listen to him about this, Free,” Charlene said. Her face was serene, her eyes all-knowing. “He’s modest, but you couldn’t find a better, braver dog. Or a more honorable, loyal friend.”
Free hadn’t been around the others long, but something told him that was true — probably an understatement, in fact — and his respect for the Shepherd grew. Rather wistfully, he imagined what it would be like to have loyal, supportive friends of his own.
Bruno moved away and cleared his throat, blinking a couple of times. His eyes seemed a little damp when he turned back around.
Tanner, the Dane, moved restlessly. “I didn’t have a good home for a long time, either,” he shared, face grim and voice solemn. “Man can truly do horrible things, but on the other hand, they can be the kindest, most loving companions you could ever find. And some of them train up pretty well.”
“I’ve been extremely fortunate,” Charlene spoke slowly. “Not many dogs have had as wonderful a life as I’ve had. My Cherie and I have been together since I was a tiny thing, and she’s the best person I’ve ever known.”
“My Maxie is the greatest and absolutely dotes on me.” Tanya’s youthful voice quivered with emotion. “He plays with me, feeds me, reads to me, takes me almost everywhere he goes, treats me like I’m a queen, and lets me do whatever I want…” She darted a peek at Bruno, who had raised an eyebrow, and giggled. “Gotcha! I wondered if you were listening. I did stretch things a little, but Maxie is special.” Tanya leaned over and nudged Bruno with her shoulder. “Isn’t he?”
“Yes, he loves you a lot.” His eyes blazed but his voice was brisk and businesslike as he proceeded with the Rules. “Number Six. Don’t dig in Mrs. Switzer’s flowers. Ever. Her roses are her babies and she loves them more than anything. She lives in the pink house with the green van in the driveway.” With a small, short growl, he stressed, “I mean it on this rule. You’d live to regret breaking it. In fact, to be on the safe side, don’t go anywhere near her home.”
“Why?” Free asked. “What’s so bad about digging?”
“Usually nothing, but she isn’t usual and she’d definitely not reasonable. Just heed his words, and don’t forget.” Twigs had been rather bouncy earlier, but he now sat completely still, tone flat and emotionless. “Mrs. Switzer loses it over her flowers, and she’s been known to call the pound over the smallest things. She did when one of my sons looked at her flower bed funny. He was standing across the street, not in her yard, but she had him taken away anyway. I never saw him again.”
Some of Free’s tangled fur hung down over his eyes, and he shivered as he tried to blow it aside. He’d heard the word “pound” before, but he’d never gone to one. “I’m sorry about your son,” he told Twigs, and the smaller dog nodded.
***
The man dumped the small puppy on the ground, then grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his neck and shook him. Shrieking for his mother, the puppy felt a metal chain being put around his neck. Ice-cold to match the temperature, it sent a chill through his body, and the heavy links weighed him down. The man who’d put it on him walked away, leaving him crying. But when he didn’t stop yipping and howling, the man stalked back, yelling at him and kicking him.
Free’s eyes popped open and he leaped to his feet, legs shaky and barely holding him up. He stared around himself wildly, unable to breathe. He couldn’t stop trembling, expected to be struck, and it took a while before he realized he was safe. It was only a nightmare from his past. But his memories had been so vivid and real that he could still feel the cold metal around his neck and the blows to his ribs and legs.
After being in the neighborhood for five days, Free’s paw didn’t hurt nearly as bad. He’d learned from Charlene’s example on his first evening, run hot baths daily, soaked, and believed the heat had eased his pain more than anything else. Of course, the tasty, regular food had helped as well. Charlene, Bruno, and the other Committee members had brought Free bones, and they’d taken turns sneaking him into their homes to share their meals. The latter had been amazingly easy. They’d chosen to wait until their respective humans were asleep at night, and they’d laughed over their charges’ subsequent surprise at their “growing appetites.”
Free’s initial suspicions had troubled him to no end, but he’d accepted they were unfounded. The other dogs were kind, decent animals who just wanted to help.
For what seemed like forever, he’d been unable to see beyond worrying about his next meal or where to rest. He’d worried non-stop about being hurt or even killed if he didn’t stay alert and on guard. But now he found himself daydreaming, wondering what it would be like to stay where he was, and not have to leave. Contemplating if he’d be able to help others like he’d been helped. Mere survival no longer at the forefront of his mind, Free thought wistfully of a loving home, but tried not to dwell on that.
He’d been venturing outside also, not only to take care of his business and sneak into the neighbors’ homes for food, but because he’d been curious about his surroundings. Wanting to know more about them had appealed to him, so he’d done a little exploring each day. But even with things going well, he felt a little uneasy, because one thing always held true about good times. They didn’t last.
Several days later, Free wandered from one backyard to another, thinking about the future again. He padded up to the sidewalk in front of the houses and stared at them, wistfully imagining living in one with a family. Being welcomed and cherished by them. Being loved.
A door creaked somewhere nearby, and he inhaled sharply and darted into the row of bushes beside him. The Committee had cautioned him not to let people see him, since he was staying in a home that wasn’t his, and he definitely had no desire to be kicked out of his temporary quarters.
“Are you there?” The woman talking stood on the porch of the home in front of Free. She stared straight at him — in his direction, at least.
Despite thinking he’d hidden himself well, he held his breath, careful not to move even a muscle.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
Staying as low to the ground as possible, Free took slow, cautious steps backward, careful not to brush up against leaves as he retreated farther into the shrubbery. He caught an unmistakable scent from another animal and knew he wasn’t the only one hiding. Glancing to the side, he eyed the tabby cat crouched under another bush. It watched him with narrowed, unfriendly eyes, and uttered a low, menacing hiss.
“Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty,” the woman cajoled. “I have something special for you.” Moments passed but the cat stayed in the bushes, so she bent, placed a bowl by her feet, and went back inside her home.
“She wasn’t speaking to me,” Free said. “Since I’m not a cat, I mean.”
The tabby rose on stiff legs, stared at him, eyes chilly, and the dog saw it was female. “If you mess with me, you’ll be sorry,” she snarled, flexing one front paw, then the other.
Free chose not to look at what he was sure were razor-sharp claws. “I don’t bother cats. Other animals, either, for that matter. I assure you I’m telling the truth.” He added, “But she really was talking to you.”
“Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. And I don’t know about you.” Her eyes never left his. “Just stay away from me.”
A wonderful scent reached his nose and he took a long sniff. Hmm. It smelled delicious, and he tried not to drool. But he saw the tabby turning to walk away.
“Aren’t you going to eat the food?” he asked.
“No. I don’t need it.”
Clearly, that was a lie, since her ribs stood out almost as much as his had mere days ago. But the wariness and suspicion in her eyes had been crystal clear. The well-masked hint of fear, too, despite her bravado. He understood all too well. In fact, the other animal’s emotions resonated with him, touching something deep inside.
“That woman seemed kind,” he offered. “And the food is right there.”
“So eat it.” The cat stalked away, rapidly putting distance between them.
“Wait. Please.” Free sniffed right, left, and all around, and crept from underneath the shrub, scanning his surroundings for possible danger. He loped toward the house, pausing briefly to listen for sounds of anyone coming, then raced up the steps to the bowl. The chicken wasn’t just bones, but meat, too. He didn’t have to bite into it to know it was tender and juicy, and his mouth watered. Whether or not the woman had fixed it herself, putting it out showing kindness and caring.
The rich aromas triggered hunger pangs in his belly. Although he was more than ready for a meal, he carefully grasped the largest piece of meat in his mouth, and ran back into the bush. Carefully depositing the food on the ground, he turned and left.
He glanced over his shoulder a few moments later, and smiled to see the tabby devouring the chicken. Then he headed across a backyard in the direction of the place he’d been staying.
A figure stepped in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere. It was Bruno.
“How’d you do that?” Free’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. “I didn’t hear you or see you or anything. Not till you just appeared.”
“Patience and training.” The Shepherd shrugged and changed the subject. “That cat’s been around for a while now, but she isn’t anyone’s friend. She’s downright rude and unfriendly, and quite mean if anyone gets close.”
Unsure what to say, Free just listened and nodded.
Bruno studied him. “What you did was nice. And you showed true depth and understanding of how she felt.”
“It was how I’d want to be treated.”
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you…”
Free was surprised, but kept his expression blank.
Bruno grinned. “Uh-huh. You thought that wouldn’t mean anything to me, but you were wrong.”
Blinking, Free stared at him before glanced away. The Shepherd had read him correctly again, and he wasn’t sure whether to be concerned about what else he was unwittingly revealing, or glad someone was interested enough to pay attention. He opened his mouth to respond, but Bruno had already vanished.
***
Glancing out her living room window, Mrs. Hilda Switzer smiled. The sixty-nine-year-old woman had a perfect view of the rose beds in front of her home, and she’d designed them with that in mind. She loved to look at her prized roses, especially the Royal Hilda Baer Switzer, a blue variety her devoted husband Gunter had bred and named for her many years ago.
An undetected aneurysm had taken him from her side four years ago, and while his absence pained her and always would, nothing could erase her memories of their time together. They’d been drawn to one another from their first meeting, and their relationship had only grown from there. Perfectly matched, they’d both been frugal and industrious, and they’d worked in nurseries and raised roses all their lives. Moreover, they’d been happy together. She’d continued raising roses after his death, although to a much smaller extent than when Gunter was alive. Every time she looked at her plants, she thought of him. Her front beds were devoted to his favorites and the Royal Hilda.
She maintained two small greenhouses in her backyard in addition to the roses out front. Despite breeding not being her focus, she experimented with new types on occasion. Her regular customers swore by her flowers, refusing to buy anywhere else. The small amounts of money she earned helped provide what Social Security didn’t. She and Gunter had scrimped and saved throughout their lives, carefully budgeting and setting money aside for their golden years. But plans don’t always go the way people think or hope, and theirs had changed. One of their grandsons had been born with unexpected problems, and they’d given the majority of their savings to help him, not regretting the decision even once.
Hilda winced as she leaned on her cane, and admitted something to herself. She’d been loath to, but burying her head in the sand didn’t change anything. Reality was reality. She wouldn’t be physically able to do the necessary work on her roses much longer. Her long-lived arthritis had worsened over the past few years, gnarling her fingers. What used to be negligible discomfort had intensified into much more. She’d already been forced to hire a neighborhood teen to take over the weeding, mulching, and watering. Her hands just couldn’t take the pain, and her knees weren’t what they used to be, either; bending and kneeling were harder to manage than in the past. Only three days ago, she’d been unable to stand after being on her knees in one of the greenhouses. She’d been forced to crawl to her back steps on her aching knees, where she’d then used a handrail to pull herself up.
Sighing, she shook off her worries and went to make herself chamomile tea. It was warming and soothing and would do her a world of good. She’d also bought blueberry tea during her last trip to the grocery store and planned to make some soon. She planned to try it out on her son and his family when they arrived for their visit that afternoon.
Twenty-four minutes later, she carefully cradled a cup in her aging hands, let out a long breath, and took a sip. The hot tea cascaded down her throat, the heat spreading outward, warming her entire body. With the help of her cane, she walked to her rocker, which was another gift from her beloved Gunter, and patted its twin beside hers. It had been his, positioned there with hers, and she didn’t plan to ever get rid of it. She started to sit down, but glanced at her rose bed. Despite her attempts to not dwell on stresses, she’d been doing nothing but that. Right about now, she could use the joy brought by gazing at her roses.
Doing so, however, made her freeze, and she gasped. Hilda forgot about sitting down and relaxing with her tea. Her hands trembled, her cup falling to the floor. A light-colored dog stood on the sidewalk in front of her home. Worse, the animal’s head was raised as it pointed its nose right, then left, as though it were sniffing in the direction of her precious flowers. The unwelcome visitor wasn’t in her bed or on her lawn –– yet –– but everything about it indicated interest. And she knew dogs!
***
Intrigued by new scents in the air, Free took a long-drawn-out sniff and caught hints of a meaty tang. Could that be chicken fat or meat juices? He also smelled a sharp bitter scent similar to something he’d seen people drink occasionally, along with something stinky with subtle hints of milk and corn. The odors drifted to him from one of the houses in the neighborhood. Well beyond curious, he walked toward them. They seemed to come from his right, so he went in that direction. Locating them didn’t take him long.
Padding across a lawn, which was a rich green despite the recent cold weather, he moved toward a darker section of ground. He ignored the plants he walked through and lowered his muzzle to the ground, inhaling deeply. Yes! This was the spot! He nosed a damp depression and took an experimental lick. Yum –– steak juice. In another aromatic spot, he nibbled small round pieces of something unknown. He’d never eaten this before but it was packed with so many flavors: corn, egg, milk, wheat, and a strong acidic tang similar to animal waste.
“Get out of there, you bad thing!” A high-pitched scream came from behind him.
He narrowly avoided being whacked on the head by a piece of wood the woman swung at him, which whistled by his left ear. Turning tail, he ran straight into a man, who looped something around his neck and yanked it so tight he suddenly had trouble breathing. The man grabbed him, took a few steps, and shoved him into a metal cage.
***
Horrified, Bruno sprinted through his dog door after Charlene, who’d run to him with the bad news. They both bolted down the sidewalk but it was too late. Free had already been loaded onto the Dog Catcher’s truck, which now pulled away from the curb.
“Blast it!” Bruno was so angry, he could have spat bones. “He’s probably being taken to the pound!” Voice going harsh, he stressed, “I warned him to stay away from her flower beds. Why didn’t he listen? I warned him.”
“I’m not sure he knew what we were talking about.” Charlene paced back and forth, voice quavering. “I’d planned to show him Mrs. Switzer’s home and plants, so he’d be clear on what place to avoid, but I forgot.” Tears rolled from her eyes. “I wish we could do something.”
“I don’t think we can.” Bruno’s voice was flat. “I don’t have a way of getting him out of there.”
“He was such a sweet little boy.” Charlene shook her head and moaned, then uttered a mournful howl. “I had such high hopes for him.”
Tanya raced down the sidewalk toward them. “What happened?” When no one answered her, she barked. “Tell me! What’s wrong?”
***
Jose stepped away from the animal cage he’d swept out and sanitized. He’d been asked a few minutes earlier to ready it for a new dog found roaming a residential neighborhood. He grimaced as he recalled the ever-increasing numbers of homeless animals appearing over the last few months. There were way too many of them. Although he’d hoped the numbers would lessen, they hadn’t, and the end probably wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Hearing a door open, he looked up to see Craig, a full-time animal catcher, leading a shaggy dog by a leash. Craig gave the leash a sharp yank, jerking the animal off its feet. Then he kicked the dog in the side, and it whimpered, cringing to the ground.
Jose took a sharp breath. It took true effort and every bit of his self-control to not verbally blast the animal catcher for his unnecessary cruelty. “There’s no need for that,” he said flatly. “The fellow’s not resisting. Not that I see.”
He swiftly bent to unfasten the leash from around the furry neck, and ushered the nonresisting animal into the cage he’d readied.
Craig shrugged. “What do you care what I do? That’s just another stupid, mangy dog. It’s as worthless as the rest of them.” Tromping off, he whistled cheerfully and kicked the front of a couple of cages he passed. Everyone knew he was working in the shelter merely as the means to an end. He’d made that clear to his coworkers early on. According to him, his parents had accused him of being a deadbeat and they’d threatened to kick his “lazy ass” out of their home if he didn’t get a job. He’d gotten this one strictly to satisfy them, had been here a month now, and didn’t plan to stay much longer. His attitude toward dogs had been abundantly clear when he’d said, “Money is money, but I won’t work around these scummy dogs longer than I have to.”
Scowling after the worthless sucker, Jose knelt to talk to the new animal. “I’m so sorry for how he treated you. I know he’s a jerk, but I don’t do the hiring around here, and I guess they needed another body.” The dog raised its head to look at him and whined softly. Jose clucked his tongue. “Come here, fella. He’s the loser, not you. He had no reason to kick you. He’s just mean. Let me check your side real quick, okay? I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m not Craig. I like dogs.”
The animal responded not only to the friendly tone, but to the kindness in the man’s eyes. Creeping toward the cage door, he sniffed at the fingers waggling at him through the open links, then moved closer and let the man touch him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jose crooned. “You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” He stroked the nose and smoothed back the haphazard, light-colored fur, ignoring the dirt and grime that got on his fingers. It would wash off. “We’re going to be good friends. I can tell.”
***
Three days later, Manuel Medina maneuvered his mop forward and back, side to side, going around animal cages and up and down walkways. As the Animal Shelter’s custodian, he cleaned up regularly, waxed, helped stock supplies, and carted away trash on a regular basis, along with many other duties. His son, Jose, had a more direct-care position, working with the animals.
Manuel flexed his left arm and grimaced. It ached. His fingertips had been going numb the past few days, too. He massaged his left arm with his right hand, glad he was almost done for the night. He’d be happy to relax at home, eat a good meal, put his feet up, and watch a decent show. He didn’t have to cook anymore, not since moving in with his son’s family, and was especially looking forward to tonight’s dinner. Carmelita, Jose’s wife, was fixing enchiladas. Jose’s cooking was fair, including his enchiladas, but nothing like hers. Carmelita’s were flavorful, packed full of everything good, and loaded with cheese, and his mouth watered as he imagined piling several on a plate for himself.
A slight moan escaped his lips when the pain in his arm traveled to his shoulder. Jose and Carmelita had been nagging him for more than a year to go to a doctor but he’d put it off. Money was tight and he hadn’t wanted the bother or to spend for no reason. Maybe he should get checked out, though, if only to get his family off his back. Having some medicine to help with his current discomfort wouldn’t hurt, either. Three years earlier, he’d had a stroke, but he’d tried to do a better job of taking care of himself since then. He exercised and avoided alcohol, drugs, and unhealthy foods. He had to admit he had a weakness for fine food, and overindulged a bit — maybe slightly more than a bit — so he was sure his current pain could be attributed to nothing more than indigestion. Unpleasant indigestion.
Planning to put the mop and cart away, Manuel felt a sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest and groaned. That didn’t feel like indigestion. He grabbed the edge of a metal cage for support, forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, and headed for the door leading to the front. Jose was somewhere doing inventory. He could finish his father’s assigned tasks, so Manuel’s pay wouldn’t be docked. Every dollar helped and he didn’t want to lose even one.
Unable to bear the increasing pain and getting dizzy, Manuel couldn’t stay on his feet and slumped to the floor between two cages. He tried to call out for Jose but couldn’t manage more than a whisper.
***
Free rushed to the right side of his cage, worried about the man who’d fallen. He was only inches away. A kind person, he’d often patted Free’s head and slipped him munchies. Now the dog pushed his nose through a metal link, nudged the man’s face, and woofed softly. The man lifted his head a little, looked like he was trying to smile, but made a sound like a groan instead. His head sagged lower to the ground. Free licked the man’s cheek and woofed again, but got no response at all this time.
Realizing something was wrong, very wrong, Free raised his head and howled as loudly as he could. “Call for help!” he urged the dogs in the cages around him. “Be as loud as you can!”
Soon, the animal shelter rang with sound. Short yaps, deep booming bellows, high-pitched squeals, and staccato yips.
***
Jose heard the cacophony and wrenched the door open. He intended to see if a cat had maybe gotten loose and somehow wandered into the dog area. That had been known to happen from time to time. However, he saw a pair of shoes sticking out from between two cages. Jose raced over and skidded to a stop, his breath catching in his throat when he saw his father lying there motionless. The shaggy dog Jose thought was sweet nuzzled Manuel’s face in between long howls.
“Papa!” Jose yelled. He shook Manuel and searched his father’s pockets with frantic, rough hands. Finally, he found the small bottle he was looking for! Jose wrenched the top off, spilling blue pills in the process, and put one under his father’s tongue. He counted the remaining pills and cursed his father’s stubbornness. From what Jose saw, he didn’t think Manuel had used any of his medicine since filling the prescription.
***
Jose moved extra slowly as he rose from the Shelter’s front desk where he’d been stationed while other staff dealt with an injured animal. Eleven days had passed since his father’s collapse, and Jose was tired from the long hours he’d been spending at the hospital. Actually, “tired” wasn’t accurate. He was well beyond that. He was exhausted. But he was elated at the same time. He felt joy and gratitude beyond measure because his father had been doing well after open-heart surgery. The hospital had performed a heart valve replacement, with the medical staff keeping a close eye on Manuel’s condition. His release had been delayed when he’d had a negative reaction to a medicine they’d given him early on. But the doctor had rapidly substituted a new medication which worked well, and Manuel was released to come home yesterday. Carmelita had picked him up, since Jose hadn’t been allowed to miss any more work. Thank the Blessed Virgin Mary his father had come through everything all right. Losing his mother six years ago was bad enough; he didn’t want his father to leave him, too.
He knew there was someone else to whom he should be grateful. Entering the dog area, Jose made his way to the shaggy dog’s cage. He bent, stroked the dog’s head, and scratched behind his ears. “Good boy,” he murmured. “Very good boy.” This good-natured stray had known something was wrong, and had alerted Jose in the first place.
A faithful Catholic, Jose believed in divine intervention. Maybe Pater Noster and the Blessed Virgin Mary had worked through this dog. Whatever the case, today was Christmas Eve, a special day. It was doubly blessed because Jose’s father had returned home and was recovering.
Because of the holidays, the shelter had closed early and the entire staff had left except Jose. Tomorrow, on Christmas day, the shelter would be closed the whole day. Minimal staff were scheduled to come in, primarily to feed and water the animals, and monitor ailing ones. Jose and Susan were the only two on the schedule today and tomorrow, but he’d volunteered to cover her tasks along with his own. She’d been all too happy to accept, and gushed about how he’d done it to be nice. In truth, he’d had a different reason.
Jose unlocked the shaggy dog’s cage and opened the door, stooping to attach a leash to the temporary collar around the animal’s neck. The dog stared up at him with eyes that seemed to ask a question, so the man explained, “I’m taking you home with me for a short visit, sweet boy.” He sighed. “I wish things could be different. I wish I could keep you and give you a permanent home, but I can’t. We have trouble keeping food on the table as is, and my car is forever acting up. We have even less money now, since Papa hasn’t been working and can’t for a while. I owe you, though. You deserve the best of everything, and the least I can do to thank you is give you a nice Christmas Eve supper and Christmas day away from here. I’ll have to bring you back tomorrow night or I’ll get in trouble, but I believe you’re worth the risk.”
The dog pushed his nose against Jose’s leg, and the man bent to pet him. “I hope I don’t get your hopes up and I wish I could make you understand what I’m saying. I think you’re a great dog and you deserve a break from this prison.” He hugged the dog for a moment. “If Papa hadn’t gotten to the hospital when he did, he could’ve died. You helped save him and I gotta show you my gratitude. It’s only right.”
***
Later that evening, Free stretched out in front of the fireplace and wished he could remain in this home forever. He’d understood Jose’s words, although the man didn’t know it, and the dog was grateful for the thoughtfulness he was being shown, however short-lived.
Jose sat cross-legged beside him, petting his fur. It was fully clean now, the cleanest it had ever been, because Jose and his three children had taken the time to bathe and groom him thoroughly. The man laughed now when his kids jumped on him, sending them all tumbling backward. They caressed the dog from time to time, accepting his licks on their faces, necks, and hands. “I wish I could keep you with us, but I can’t,” Jose stated yet again, scratching behind his ear. Eyes wistful, he seemed to say this as much for himself as for his kids; they’d asked for just that several times.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Free woofed. His eyes strayed from the cozy fire to the loud, happy family exchanging and opening presents, and he felt the peaceful happiness of his surroundings like the warmth of the sun soaking into his body. He wondered if The Great Dog with Endless Bones in the Sky was blessing him, and the words of Helen Keller ran through his mind. ‘The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.’
At that moment, he understood for the first time what it felt like to be in a happy home with kind, caring people, and wished he could stay just this once. His mother’s words about hope and families came rushing into his mind, as well as his old dreams of love and a true home.
Studying everything around him, he tried to imprint it all on his mind, so he’d have the memories with him forever. Looking up, he whispered to The Great Dog in the Sky, “I’ve been told you’re all-powerful, so if you could find me a home of my own, I’d be grateful. For now, being with these people is wonderful, even though it won’t last. I’m warm and welcome here. Thank you.”
A phone rang in the distance, and Jose answered it. He listened a couple of minutes before exclaiming, “Really?” A huge grin spread across his face. “That much? Thank you so much.” After he ended the call, he told his family, “That was my boss with wonderful news. I’m getting a bonus.” He twirled his children around, laughing with them. Then he hugged and kissed Carmelita. His eyes strayed to the dog, who wagged his tail and woofed, then back to his wife, who nodded.
Walking toward Free, Jose knelt to pet him, and whispered, “Guess what?”
The end.
- Free’s Tale: No Home at Christmas-time - December 16, 2024
- Meyer House - October 21, 2024
- Mission Ryan - August 12, 2024
