Home

[poeluvr]

This is from my chicken soup for pet lovers soul againlove this story)
HOME
A frezing downpour washed the back asphalt streets in front of the small-town bar. I was gazing at the watery darkness, alone as usual. Across the rain-drenched road way, was a park: five acres of grass, giant elme trees and , tonight, an ankle deep coveringv of of cold water.
I had been in the battered old pub, for a half hour, quietly nursing a drink, when my thoughtful stare finally focused on a medium-sized lump in a grassy puddle a hundred feet away. For another ten times i looked out through the tear streaked windowpane trying to decide if the lump was an animal or just a wet and inanimate something.
The night before a german-shepard looking mongrel had come into the bar begging for potato chips. He was mangy and starving, and just the size of the lump in question. why would a dog lay in a cold puddle in the freezing rain? i asked myself. The answer was simple either it wasn't a dog, or if it was it was too weak to get up.
The shrapnel wounds in my right shoulder ached all the way down to my fingers. I didnt want to go out in that storm. Hey, it wasn't my dog, it wasn't anybody's dog. It was just a stray on a cold night in the rain, a lonely drifter.
so am i , i thought as i tossed down what was left of my drink and headed out the door.
He was lying in three inches of water. When i touched him he didnt move, i thought he was dead.I put my hands around his chest and hoistened him to his feet. He stood unsteadily in the puddle his head , hung like a weight at the back of his neck. Half his body was covered in mange. His floppy ears were just hairless peices of flesh, dotted with open soares.
"come on", i said, hoping i wouldnt have to carry his infected carcus to shelter. His tail wagged once and he ploded weakly after me. I led him to an alcove, next to the bar, where he layed on the cold cement and closed his eyes.
A block away i could see the lights of a late night convienence store. It was still open. I bought three cans of Alpo and stuffed them into my leather coat. I was wet and ugly, and the clerk looked releived when i left. The race-type exhausts on my Harley Davidson rattled the windowsin the bar, as i drove back to the bar.
The barmaid opened the cans for me and said the dog's name was Shep. She told me that he was a year old, and his owner had gone to Germany, and left him on the street. He ate all cans of dog food with an aspiring singleness of purpose. I wanted to pet him but he smelled like death and looked even worse." Good luck " I said. Then got on my bike and rode away.
The next day i got a job driving a dump truck for a small paving company. As I hauled a load of gravel throught the centre of town, I saw Shep standing at the sidewalk , near the bar. I yelled to him, and thought i saw his tail wag. His reaction made me feel good. After work I bought three more cans of Alp0o and a cheesburger. My new friend and i ate dinner together on the side walk. H e finished his first.
The next night, when i brought his food he welcomed me with wild enthusiasm. Now and then his malnurished legs buckled and he fell to the pavement. Other humans, had deserted him and mistreated him, but now he had a friend, and his apprechiation was more then obvious.
I didn't see him the next day, as i hauled load after load up the main street by the bar. I wondered if someone had taken himhome.
After work i parked my black Harley on the street, and walked down the sidewalk looking for him. I was afraid of what i would find. He was lying on his side in a alley, nearby. His tongue hung out in the dirt, and only the tip of his tail moved when he saw mw.
The local veterinarian was still at his office , so i borrowed a pick-up truck from my employer, and loaded the limp mongrel into the cab. "Is this your dog?" the vet asked after checking the pitiful specimen that lay helplessly on his examining table.
"No," I said, "he's just a stray".
"He's got the beginning of distemper" the vet said sadly. "If he doesn't have a home, the kindest thing we can do is put him out of his misery".
I put my hand on the dogs shoulder. His mangy tail thumped weakly against the stainless steel table.
I sighed loudly. "He's got a home" I said.
The next three night, and two days, the dog_i named him shep-layed on his side in my apartment. My roomate and I spent hours putting water in his mouth, and trying to get him to swallow a few scrambled eggs. He couldnt do it, but whenever i touched him, he wagged his tail at the very tip.
At about 10:00 A.M on the third day, I went home to open the apartment for the telephone installer. As I stepped through the door, I was nearly flattened by a jumping wiggling mass of euphoric mutt. Shep had recovered.
With time the mangy starving dog, that nearly died in my living room grew into a eighty pound block of solid muscle, with a massive chest , and a super thick coat of shiny black fur. Many times, whenlonliness and depression have nearly gotten the best of me, Shep has returned the favour to me by showering me with unbridled friendship, until i had no choice but to smile and trade my melancholy for a fast game of fetch-the-stick.
When i look back, I can see that Shep and I met at the low points of both our lives. But we arn't lonely drifters anymore. I'd say we both come home.
Story by:Joe kirkup

[Richie12345]

aww, that's so nice to read... I got a little worried the end of the story would say he died...

[poeluvr]

thanx richie, it took me a while to type

[jkirkup]

Poeluvr,
Glad you liked my essay.
Joe Kirkup

[TheWonderPuppies]

I love that book but i always have to have tissues near by when i read it

[filarotten]

Aw, that was a nice story. I am so glad he didn't die. I was so afraid he was going to.

[Wings]

-sniff- i'm touched -sniff-