Rescued (Part 2)

6/7/2012

I reach out my hand and place it in front of the dog’s nose as my husband always said you should.  The dog rewards me with a tentative tail wag and I know that it’s a good sign.  He never wavers as he continues to stare at me through his large, cloudy eyes.  Those eyes seem to go straight to my soul and I am freshly reminded of all I’ve lost in the last few years.  Damn the dog for reopening old wounds that I desperately need to keep closed.  I can’t stop staring at the dog and if it’s possible he seems to be pleading to me not to leave him behind. 

I look around nervously before I begin to talk to the dog because the last thing I need is to end up on the internet as the old lady dog whisperer.   I see no one and so I explain to the dog, as if he can understand, what I’m going to do.  I tell the dog that I’m going to go inside the store and buy some groceries for me and him.  I decide that it won’t hurt to buy a can (or two) of dog food, food bowls and shampoo.  My rationalization to myself is that when I return, if the dog has left then I will simply return the dog items and go on my way.  I am slightly undecided about what to do if the dog waits for me.

After a short shopping trip that consists of only two aisles – pet supplies and ice cream, I am outside in mere minutes.  As I exit the store I am relieved (I think) that the dog has stayed.  I wonder what I should do with him now.

I walk to my car all the while patting my leg and calling out “Come on boy.  Let’s go home and get warmed up.”  I will myself not to look back because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.  I can’t decide what scenario I want or need to play out.  Would it be better for me, as well as the dog, for him to follow me; or, for the dog to simply run away?

After I put my groceries in the trunk, I look back and see that the dog has taken a few tentative steps in my direction.  I think about my tiny little house that has barely enough room for me much less a four-legged dependent.  And truthfully, after the death of my husband, my heart has turned to stone and I’m determined to keep it closed just as tight as the front door of my house.

 

I open the car door and sit down on the front seat.  Even though it’s cold, I don’t shut the door yet.  Why I ask myself?  I already know the answer, it’s the dog.  Perhaps the dog has been placed in my path to remind me to keep on living even though it’s lonely and painful now. 

I decide that I will definitely not pull the dog into my car.  Who wants a reluctant house guest?  Not me.  I get out of the car and open the back door and am surprised that when I turn around the dog is standing beside me.  Maybe he does understand English after all.