Cinder
Cinder (the story of a dog)
She was third born in a litter of five pups that warm May morning in Northern California. She was big-boned just like her father, Jett. Jett’s mistress, Mary, loved him dearly. She often looked out the back door of her home to see him standing in the near woods that bordered her property. He appeared majestic to her, every bit the North American Timber Wolf in her eyes. He was a long-haired German Shepherd, purebred, papers going back for generations. Mary made an arrangement to sire him out. For her part she would be given pick of the litter.
When the puppies were born, there was no doubt in Mary’s mind as to whom her pick would be. the size of the puppy’s paws, huge and out of proportion to its body, captured the discerning woman’s attention. When the litter was weaned Mary took her puppy home to meet Jett. She was taken aback, a bit surprised, when he refused to accept his daughter at first. He sniffed her from one end to the other, shook his shaggy head, then returned to the thin woods, his place amongst the trees.
The little girl was terrified. While Jett was poking and sniffing at her with his nose she put her head down and pressed her body against the wall of Mary’s back porch. Her bushy tail held low, she watched closely as Jett left the porch and disappeared, stiff-legged, into the trees.
“Look at you, poor puppy,” Mary said. She scratched the pup behind its ears, kissed the top of its head. “You’re beautiful,” she crooned lowly, “Perfect markings, your mask and the top of your ears, tan and black, just perfect.” Marry gathered the big puppy up in her arms and sat on the porch rocking her back and forth. “You’re my princess,” she said softly, “I’m going to call you Talah.”
Talah whimpered, sounded almost like a baby crying. “I know, I know,” Mary whispered in her ear. “You miss your mother and don’t remember your daddy, Jett. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
Mary wasn’t so sure about that. Jett’s behavior confused her. She had expected him to recognize his daughter immediately or at least recognize that she was one of his kind and needed him. A proud and solitary animal, he tolerated other creatures, Mary’s son’s dogs and her cat in particular but preferred to be alone. Mary led the puppy to a corner of the porch where she had constructed a bed out of old towels and what-not. Talah groaned and laid her head down when Mary went inside.
Jett watched it all from the cover of the trees. He was conscious of Mary’s every move, her comings and goings. There was a bed on the porch for him next to the one Mary had made for the pup. He seldom slept there, preferring to stay in the lair he had made for himself deep in the trees. He went there now to lie down, his ears keen to Mary’s movements in the house and the pup’s whimpering. Later, when he was sure they were both asleep, he went through the perimeter fence, deeper into the California woods to hunt.
Early the next day, Mary awoke and busied herself with her morning ritual of toast and coffee. A bumping sound from the back porch reminded her of the puppy. She tip-toed across the room and peeked out the window. She hoped to see Jett and the pup together. “Oh my,” she gasped. Her hands fumbled with the lock on the door.
Mary was terrified at what she saw when she stepped onto the porch. The puppy’s rag bed was torn to shreds. She was lying in the middle of the mess, her face and head matted with blood. “Oh no,” Mary sighed, “Jett, you didn’t.”
The puppy whined and Mary was both relieved and distressed. It was alive but bloody and crying. She rushed into the kitchen and returned presently with a bucket of warm water and clean towels from the bathroom. The puppy was waiting at the door for her, its tail wagging and head cocked to one side. Her hands full, Mary nudged the door open with her foot. The puppy walked gingerly to its torn up bed and lay down. It began gnawing on something amongst the bloody rags.
Mary dipped a towel in the warm water and bent to the task of cleaning the blood from Talah’s face. She worked slowly at first, careful and gentle, expecting with each wipe to find an open wound. The pup nuzzled her hand and nipped playfully at her. It jumped up unexpectedly and knocked over the pail of water. “Silly girl,” Mary said, a perplexed look on her face.
“Jett,” Mary said under her breath. She rummaged through the mess of the puppy’s bed and found an animal bone. “Here puppy, here Talah,” she crooned in a singing voice, picking up the bone and offering it to the dog. “Your daddy brought you a present last night, didn’t he?”
Talah accepted the bone. She sat there with it in her mouth, studying Mary with her intelligent and inquisitive puppy eyes. She whimpered a bit, set the bone on the floor of the porch, and lay down next to it.
“Well, sweety, you sure gave me a fright,” Mary said as she sat down next to Talah and worked at washing the blood away. She was startled by the sound of the screen door opening behind her.
“Ma, what happened? What’s all that blood? Are you okay?” Her twenty-year-old son, Jimmy, stood there, concern and worry evident on his face and the tone of his voice.”
“I picked the puppy up at the breeder yesterday,” Mary explained. “Looks like Jett dragged something home last night. That’s where all the blood seems to have come from, thank goodness!”
Jimmy knelt down and examined the pup. “She’s the spitting image of Jett when he was a puppy.”
“Look at the size of those legs and feet,” Mary said, pointing a finger at Talah. “And her markings, they’re perfect. She’ll be a whole lot prettier than her daddy.” She paused a moment, glanced inquisitively at her son. “I didn’t hear you drive in. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Jimmy scratched Talah behind the ears. “I got laid off, Ma, haven’t worked for a couple of weeks. I’m about to lose my apartment.”
“Help me get some food and water for this little girl,” Mary sighed, “Then we’ll go in and talk over coffee while I get ready for work.
Jett watched from the shaded skirt of the forest, his shaggy head resting on massive forepaws. He had left his lair when he heard Mary come out on the porch. Curious, he had almost approached her and the pup. A car pulling in the drive made up his mind for him. He reconnoitered, followed the covering shade of the trees to a vantage place where he was able to see the side of the house and driveway while remaining concealed. He moved like a ghost through the thinly scattered trees, smooth and fluid, blending naturally into the environment. A person watching would be amazed at how quickly Jett moved from one place to another, his regal loping gait giving no clue as to the speed of his movement.
Jett recognized Jimmy at once. He returned to his original spot, aware that Jimmy would seek out Mary. On another day Jett might have joined Jimmy in the drive. Today he sensed a rigidity in the in the young man, a nervous preoccupation and uncertainty. Jett had become more a creature of the woods than the environs of humans. He knew what all woods creatures know. Be still. Watch.
Mary poured herself and Jimmy a cup of steaming coffee. She sat down across from him at the kitchen table, spoke to her son while dabbing makeup on her face. “What happened at work, honey?”
Jimmy fidgeted a bit, added sugar and cream to his coffee. He stirred it slowly, a pensive look on his face. “Downsizing,” he said morosely, “Seniority and recession, all the words the bosses use when they let you go.”
Mary paused in the application of her makeup, reached across the table and patted his hand. “You’re a bright boy and a hard worker. You’ll find another job.”
“Hope so,” Jimmy said, “Hey, Ma, are you gonna sell that pup?”
“You know your Momma,” Mary replied, “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She’s just the spark to remind a grieving widow that life still exists. I plan to keep her, maybe breed her out and sell her litters to make a little extra cash and keep myself busy. Whatever I do with her, having her around is bound to make me feel better in a positive and loving way. She is a sweet thing.”
Jimmy sipped at his coffee. “What about Jett?”
Mary glanced at her son’s face, felt a tear come to her eye as she thought about how much he reminded her of his father. She wiped her eyes carefully and continued with the application of her makeup. “Jett’s not much company since your dad passed away,” she said wistfully. “He was always Big Jim’s dog and just hasn’t been the same since we lost him. Jett is a loyal and territorial animal. He watches over me and the property. Heaven help anyone who crosses the line with him around.” Mary smiled sadly. “He’s lonely and I am too but I can’t seem to touch the dark space of his loneliness. He’s not much company, son.”
“Where is he?” Jimmy asked.
Mary nodded toward the kitchen window. “Out there, he’s out there in those woods. I know he misses your dad. He’s proud and sad. If a dog can be proud and sad, that’s what Jett is.”
Jimmy favored Mary with a winsome smile. “Would it help if I spent some time with him?” He sipped his coffee, then added, “And you?”
“What about your pups?” Mary exclaimed. “Those three pit-bulls have to be a handful!”
“They’re comin’ along,” Jimmy replied. “I’ve only had ‘em a little over a month.” He chuckled and said, “They’re good dogs but you were right, Ma, when you told me three is too many dogs.”
“You’re welcome to spend some time with Jett if you’d like,” Mary said resignedly, “but he wouldn’t take to your pups. He hasn’t shown much interest in his own daughter. I wouldn’t want to see any of your little guys get hurt.”
“What will you do with Jett when the pup comes into heat?” Jimmy asked.
“I’ll have to isolate her,” Mary replied. “I’ve thought a lot about that.
She pondered for a moment then added, “Unless I had Jett neutered.”
“That would change him,” Jimmy observed, “Doesn’t hardly seem fair.”
“Your dad died before he was fifty,” Mary said, “Sometimes life just isn’t fair.”
“Jett brought the pup part of his kill last night,” Jimmy said in an obvious attempt to draw Mary away from talking about his father’s death.
“Yes, he did,” Mary sighed, “And that’s a good sign. He’ll take care of Talah and protect her. I was hoping for more than that.”
Jimmy stood up and stretched. “Talah, you’ve already named her. Talah, I like that.” A mask of sadness settled on his face. “Give ‘em time, Ma. Dad’s only been gone for six months. Jett’ll come around, you’ll see.”
“He hasn’t touched a bite of the food I’ve put out for him since Big Jim died,” Mary said. “He stays out in the woods like a wild thing, hunting and prowling all the time. It’s as if he expects Jim to appear from the fog or the bark of a tree.”
“Give ‘em time,” Jimmy repeated.
Mary gathered her things and put on a light jacket. She pressed a bill into Jimmy’s hand. “Here’s a hundred dollars I had put back. It’s not much but I hope it helps. You don’t have to pay me back.” She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s a gift, you’re all I got.”
Jimmy hugged his mother. “Ah, Ma, you don’t have to do that.
“A mother has to do what a mother has to do,” Mary said matter-of-factly, “And right now what this mother has to do is get out of here and go to work. I don’t want to be late.”
Jimmy poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “I love you, Ma,” he said into his cup.
Mary opened the door on the driveway side of the house. She paused and blew Jimmy a kiss. “I love you, Jimmy. Check the pup’s water before you go. We’ll talk again soon.”
Jett watched Mary come out of the house. He moved in an easy lope across the field skirting the edge of trees and quietly up the drive. Mary reached for the door handle to her car and Jett nuzzled her hand. “Oh my,” she gasped, “You gave me a fright, Jett boy.”
Jett sat down and gazed at her with his intelligent brown eyes. His coat was long, shaggy and black with dark brown flecks on his mask and hocks. Mary scratched behind his ears, ran her fingers up the satiny bridge of his nose. “There’s my big ol’ timber wolf. You’re never far away, are you?”
He lifted his left paw and Mary took it in her hands. “We miss our Big Jim, don’t we?”
Jett pulled loose and touched Mary’s hand gently with his paw. “You take care of that daughter of yours,” Mary said. “And go say hi to Jimmy. I have to get to work.”
Jett understood her tone of dismissal. He turned and walked away from her, down the driveway and toward the trees. Mary marveled at his stately gait, how he chewed up distance and never seemed to hurry. “And you won’t look back, will you?” she said as she got into her car.
Jett laid down when he reached the trees. Head on his forepaws, he watched Mary’s car pull out onto the roadway. This was his place of waiting, where he had lain intermittently for all seven years of his life, knowing the man would return and come to him there or raise his arms and shout, “Halloo, Jett!” Either way, Jett would join him. They would be together, the man and the dog. Whatever that meant, out walking the woods, working in the garage, mowing, trimming, picking up in the yard, sitting in the house with Mary, playing with Jimmy; they would be together. Theirs was a place of peace that Jett missed terribly and would never let go of, a place inside where all was right with the world.
Jett groaned deep inside, an involuntary sound emanating from his whole body, while watching the house. The man would not return. That knowledge echoed from the place inside his spirit where the groan originated. The fierce loyalty of his breed, his ancestors, his inability to ever give up a fight or the wait, denied all aspects of physical reality. He would watch over the man’s spaces and those he had loved and cared for but never give that piece of himself away to another human being. He groaned once more, got to his feet, eyes and ears ever watchful and attentive, he made his way back to his lair.
He had discovered this place the first time he was allowed to roam the woods alone. There were several paths leading to it and he used them alternately in his comings and goings. The den was a natural cave created by fallen boulders and fist-sized stones, its entrance shielded by heavy undergrowth and deadfall. While exploring its depths, Jett had discovered another opening to his lair. It was steep and tight, he could barely squeeze through, but perfect if he needed another way out. Protective of his territory, other animals had learned to give him a wide berth, a lesson a few of them hadn’t survived. Even Big Jim hadn’t known about this place.
Jett whimpered, a sound and emotion he only allowed himself when alone. Safe in the cave, he lay down, closed his eyes and went away to that place inside where he would find the man. They wandered the woods, what was left of them, crisscrossed by streets and houses. The two of them, man and dog, were one there. They followed game trails for miles, under the streets, through storm drain sewer tunnels, first on one side of the creek running through it all, then the other.
“Jett, hey Jett!” The big German Shepherd stirred, rose to his feet and stretched. Startled from his dream, he was disoriented and confused. Was the voice coming from there or was it real? It sounded like the man calling. He walked to the cave entrance and heard it again, ringing clear, calling out to him. “C’mon Jett! I know you’re out there.” It was the boy.
(to be continued – a work in progress)
When the puppies were born, there was no doubt in Mary’s mind as to whom her pick would be. the size of the puppy’s paws, huge and out of proportion to its body, captured the discerning woman’s attention. When the litter was weaned Mary took her puppy home to meet Jett. She was taken aback, a bit surprised, when he refused to accept his daughter at first. He sniffed her from one end to the other, shook his shaggy head, then returned to the thin woods, his place amongst the trees.
The little girl was terrified. While Jett was poking and sniffing at her with his nose she put her head down and pressed her body against the wall of Mary’s back porch. Her bushy tail held low, she watched closely as Jett left the porch and disappeared, stiff-legged, into the trees.
“Look at you, poor puppy,” Mary said. She scratched the pup behind its ears, kissed the top of its head. “You’re beautiful,” she crooned lowly, “Perfect markings, your mask and the top of your ears, tan and black, just perfect.” Marry gathered the big puppy up in her arms and sat on the porch rocking her back and forth. “You’re my princess,” she said softly, “I’m going to call you Talah.”
Talah whimpered, sounded almost like a baby crying. “I know, I know,” Mary whispered in her ear. “You miss your mother and don’t remember your daddy, Jett. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”
Mary wasn’t so sure about that. Jett’s behavior confused her. She had expected him to recognize his daughter immediately or at least recognize that she was one of his kind and needed him. A proud and solitary animal, he tolerated other creatures, Mary’s son’s dogs and her cat in particular but preferred to be alone. Mary led the puppy to a corner of the porch where she had constructed a bed out of old towels and what-not. Talah groaned and laid her head down when Mary went inside.
Jett watched it all from the cover of the trees. He was conscious of Mary’s every move, her comings and goings. There was a bed on the porch for him next to the one Mary had made for the pup. He seldom slept there, preferring to stay in the lair he had made for himself deep in the trees. He went there now to lie down, his ears keen to Mary’s movements in the house and the pup’s whimpering. Later, when he was sure they were both asleep, he went through the perimeter fence, deeper into the California woods to hunt.
Early the next day, Mary awoke and busied herself with her morning ritual of toast and coffee. A bumping sound from the back porch reminded her of the puppy. She tip-toed across the room and peeked out the window. She hoped to see Jett and the pup together. “Oh my,” she gasped. Her hands fumbled with the lock on the door.
Mary was terrified at what she saw when she stepped onto the porch. The puppy’s rag bed was torn to shreds. She was lying in the middle of the mess, her face and head matted with blood. “Oh no,” Mary sighed, “Jett, you didn’t.”
The puppy whined and Mary was both relieved and distressed. It was alive but bloody and crying. She rushed into the kitchen and returned presently with a bucket of warm water and clean towels from the bathroom. The puppy was waiting at the door for her, its tail wagging and head cocked to one side. Her hands full, Mary nudged the door open with her foot. The puppy walked gingerly to its torn up bed and lay down. It began gnawing on something amongst the bloody rags.
Mary dipped a towel in the warm water and bent to the task of cleaning the blood from Talah’s face. She worked slowly at first, careful and gentle, expecting with each wipe to find an open wound. The pup nuzzled her hand and nipped playfully at her. It jumped up unexpectedly and knocked over the pail of water. “Silly girl,” Mary said, a perplexed look on her face.
“Jett,” Mary said under her breath. She rummaged through the mess of the puppy’s bed and found an animal bone. “Here puppy, here Talah,” she crooned in a singing voice, picking up the bone and offering it to the dog. “Your daddy brought you a present last night, didn’t he?”
Talah accepted the bone. She sat there with it in her mouth, studying Mary with her intelligent and inquisitive puppy eyes. She whimpered a bit, set the bone on the floor of the porch, and lay down next to it.
“Well, sweety, you sure gave me a fright,” Mary said as she sat down next to Talah and worked at washing the blood away. She was startled by the sound of the screen door opening behind her.
“Ma, what happened? What’s all that blood? Are you okay?” Her twenty-year-old son, Jimmy, stood there, concern and worry evident on his face and the tone of his voice.”
“I picked the puppy up at the breeder yesterday,” Mary explained. “Looks like Jett dragged something home last night. That’s where all the blood seems to have come from, thank goodness!”
Jimmy knelt down and examined the pup. “She’s the spitting image of Jett when he was a puppy.”
“Look at the size of those legs and feet,” Mary said, pointing a finger at Talah. “And her markings, they’re perfect. She’ll be a whole lot prettier than her daddy.” She paused a moment, glanced inquisitively at her son. “I didn’t hear you drive in. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Jimmy scratched Talah behind the ears. “I got laid off, Ma, haven’t worked for a couple of weeks. I’m about to lose my apartment.”
“Help me get some food and water for this little girl,” Mary sighed, “Then we’ll go in and talk over coffee while I get ready for work.
Jett watched from the shaded skirt of the forest, his shaggy head resting on massive forepaws. He had left his lair when he heard Mary come out on the porch. Curious, he had almost approached her and the pup. A car pulling in the drive made up his mind for him. He reconnoitered, followed the covering shade of the trees to a vantage place where he was able to see the side of the house and driveway while remaining concealed. He moved like a ghost through the thinly scattered trees, smooth and fluid, blending naturally into the environment. A person watching would be amazed at how quickly Jett moved from one place to another, his regal loping gait giving no clue as to the speed of his movement.
Jett recognized Jimmy at once. He returned to his original spot, aware that Jimmy would seek out Mary. On another day Jett might have joined Jimmy in the drive. Today he sensed a rigidity in the in the young man, a nervous preoccupation and uncertainty. Jett had become more a creature of the woods than the environs of humans. He knew what all woods creatures know. Be still. Watch.
Mary poured herself and Jimmy a cup of steaming coffee. She sat down across from him at the kitchen table, spoke to her son while dabbing makeup on her face. “What happened at work, honey?”
Jimmy fidgeted a bit, added sugar and cream to his coffee. He stirred it slowly, a pensive look on his face. “Downsizing,” he said morosely, “Seniority and recession, all the words the bosses use when they let you go.”
Mary paused in the application of her makeup, reached across the table and patted his hand. “You’re a bright boy and a hard worker. You’ll find another job.”
“Hope so,” Jimmy said, “Hey, Ma, are you gonna sell that pup?”
“You know your Momma,” Mary replied, “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She’s just the spark to remind a grieving widow that life still exists. I plan to keep her, maybe breed her out and sell her litters to make a little extra cash and keep myself busy. Whatever I do with her, having her around is bound to make me feel better in a positive and loving way. She is a sweet thing.”
Jimmy sipped at his coffee. “What about Jett?”
Mary glanced at her son’s face, felt a tear come to her eye as she thought about how much he reminded her of his father. She wiped her eyes carefully and continued with the application of her makeup. “Jett’s not much company since your dad passed away,” she said wistfully. “He was always Big Jim’s dog and just hasn’t been the same since we lost him. Jett is a loyal and territorial animal. He watches over me and the property. Heaven help anyone who crosses the line with him around.” Mary smiled sadly. “He’s lonely and I am too but I can’t seem to touch the dark space of his loneliness. He’s not much company, son.”
“Where is he?” Jimmy asked.
Mary nodded toward the kitchen window. “Out there, he’s out there in those woods. I know he misses your dad. He’s proud and sad. If a dog can be proud and sad, that’s what Jett is.”
Jimmy favored Mary with a winsome smile. “Would it help if I spent some time with him?” He sipped his coffee, then added, “And you?”
“What about your pups?” Mary exclaimed. “Those three pit-bulls have to be a handful!”
“They’re comin’ along,” Jimmy replied. “I’ve only had ‘em a little over a month.” He chuckled and said, “They’re good dogs but you were right, Ma, when you told me three is too many dogs.”
“You’re welcome to spend some time with Jett if you’d like,” Mary said resignedly, “but he wouldn’t take to your pups. He hasn’t shown much interest in his own daughter. I wouldn’t want to see any of your little guys get hurt.”
“What will you do with Jett when the pup comes into heat?” Jimmy asked.
“I’ll have to isolate her,” Mary replied. “I’ve thought a lot about that.
She pondered for a moment then added, “Unless I had Jett neutered.”
“That would change him,” Jimmy observed, “Doesn’t hardly seem fair.”
“Your dad died before he was fifty,” Mary said, “Sometimes life just isn’t fair.”
“Jett brought the pup part of his kill last night,” Jimmy said in an obvious attempt to draw Mary away from talking about his father’s death.
“Yes, he did,” Mary sighed, “And that’s a good sign. He’ll take care of Talah and protect her. I was hoping for more than that.”
Jimmy stood up and stretched. “Talah, you’ve already named her. Talah, I like that.” A mask of sadness settled on his face. “Give ‘em time, Ma. Dad’s only been gone for six months. Jett’ll come around, you’ll see.”
“He hasn’t touched a bite of the food I’ve put out for him since Big Jim died,” Mary said. “He stays out in the woods like a wild thing, hunting and prowling all the time. It’s as if he expects Jim to appear from the fog or the bark of a tree.”
“Give ‘em time,” Jimmy repeated.
Mary gathered her things and put on a light jacket. She pressed a bill into Jimmy’s hand. “Here’s a hundred dollars I had put back. It’s not much but I hope it helps. You don’t have to pay me back.” She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s a gift, you’re all I got.”
Jimmy hugged his mother. “Ah, Ma, you don’t have to do that.
“A mother has to do what a mother has to do,” Mary said matter-of-factly, “And right now what this mother has to do is get out of here and go to work. I don’t want to be late.”
Jimmy poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “I love you, Ma,” he said into his cup.
Mary opened the door on the driveway side of the house. She paused and blew Jimmy a kiss. “I love you, Jimmy. Check the pup’s water before you go. We’ll talk again soon.”
Jett watched Mary come out of the house. He moved in an easy lope across the field skirting the edge of trees and quietly up the drive. Mary reached for the door handle to her car and Jett nuzzled her hand. “Oh my,” she gasped, “You gave me a fright, Jett boy.”
Jett sat down and gazed at her with his intelligent brown eyes. His coat was long, shaggy and black with dark brown flecks on his mask and hocks. Mary scratched behind his ears, ran her fingers up the satiny bridge of his nose. “There’s my big ol’ timber wolf. You’re never far away, are you?”
He lifted his left paw and Mary took it in her hands. “We miss our Big Jim, don’t we?”
Jett pulled loose and touched Mary’s hand gently with his paw. “You take care of that daughter of yours,” Mary said. “And go say hi to Jimmy. I have to get to work.”
Jett understood her tone of dismissal. He turned and walked away from her, down the driveway and toward the trees. Mary marveled at his stately gait, how he chewed up distance and never seemed to hurry. “And you won’t look back, will you?” she said as she got into her car.
Jett laid down when he reached the trees. Head on his forepaws, he watched Mary’s car pull out onto the roadway. This was his place of waiting, where he had lain intermittently for all seven years of his life, knowing the man would return and come to him there or raise his arms and shout, “Halloo, Jett!” Either way, Jett would join him. They would be together, the man and the dog. Whatever that meant, out walking the woods, working in the garage, mowing, trimming, picking up in the yard, sitting in the house with Mary, playing with Jimmy; they would be together. Theirs was a place of peace that Jett missed terribly and would never let go of, a place inside where all was right with the world.
Jett groaned deep inside, an involuntary sound emanating from his whole body, while watching the house. The man would not return. That knowledge echoed from the place inside his spirit where the groan originated. The fierce loyalty of his breed, his ancestors, his inability to ever give up a fight or the wait, denied all aspects of physical reality. He would watch over the man’s spaces and those he had loved and cared for but never give that piece of himself away to another human being. He groaned once more, got to his feet, eyes and ears ever watchful and attentive, he made his way back to his lair.
He had discovered this place the first time he was allowed to roam the woods alone. There were several paths leading to it and he used them alternately in his comings and goings. The den was a natural cave created by fallen boulders and fist-sized stones, its entrance shielded by heavy undergrowth and deadfall. While exploring its depths, Jett had discovered another opening to his lair. It was steep and tight, he could barely squeeze through, but perfect if he needed another way out. Protective of his territory, other animals had learned to give him a wide berth, a lesson a few of them hadn’t survived. Even Big Jim hadn’t known about this place.
Jett whimpered, a sound and emotion he only allowed himself when alone. Safe in the cave, he lay down, closed his eyes and went away to that place inside where he would find the man. They wandered the woods, what was left of them, crisscrossed by streets and houses. The two of them, man and dog, were one there. They followed game trails for miles, under the streets, through storm drain sewer tunnels, first on one side of the creek running through it all, then the other.
“Jett, hey Jett!” The big German Shepherd stirred, rose to his feet and stretched. Startled from his dream, he was disoriented and confused. Was the voice coming from there or was it real? It sounded like the man calling. He walked to the cave entrance and heard it again, ringing clear, calling out to him. “C’mon Jett! I know you’re out there.” It was the boy.
(to be continued – a work in progress)
Cinder
