A Gentle While-Chapter 3 "Home"

            Wylie had so swiftly returned to his space in the back seat of the car that he never gave a second glance back. He was so excited he failed to give a notion of thanks to the helper or the kind keeper and her friends. He would never realize their excitement for his deserved freedom.

            The mom had cracked the back door window just enough that he could reach his nose out to smell the air of freedom. He was so preoccupied by the moment that he had forgotten his sore joints. Then the realization hit him. The times were not as they used to be. He sunk into the seat to rest and gathered his emotions.

            The rocking motions of the car sent him back to the days on the farm. In the warm months he would follow the children around during the day but on occasion his dad would swing the truck door open. Then with the subtle nudge of his head motion for him to ride along. Wylie would always look back at the kids but he knew these times in the truck were rare. The chances to spend this time to prove his loyalty were a necessary part of a farm dog’s life.

            His dad was not affectionate like his mom or his children but he could communicate better than the rest. It was only a few times that Wylie could recall his dad uttering the words “Good boy.” He knew after his dad spoke he would speak with a look of his eye. He had long used these looks to learn to express to the others but they could never fully comprehend as his dad could. He knew the respect his dad was given was a beautiful gift and as he grew he strove to gain a glimmer of regard from the respected.

            The car began to slow down. He sat up. As he looked out the window he saw a big white house. He remembered the house he had protected. The happiness of those memories caused the faintest whine arise from his throat. He stood on the seat and pranced in place as the car came to a stop. His tail meekly waved.

            The mom opened his door. He knew his manners. He had to emerge calm. Such actions always impressed his mom. He could not chance upsetting his new home.

            The smell of farmland, the corn was already well above his head. His dad was always happy when the crops smell like they did that day. Wylie knew it was only his kind that could sense the health of the crops like that but he knew wherever his dad was that he had to be happy about the upcoming yield.

            He heard the children! They were inside. Suddenly, he recognized a different but familiar smell. Could it be Cat? The mom called him to the door. He could tell he was not the only of his kind on the property. He hoped the four-leggers would be easy spirited and not cause him any grief.

            The mom smiled and told him to do his business now. One of the children emerged from the door as the mom told him to do something with Bernie. Mid-stream, Wylie wondered if Bernie was the scent he could smell. He searched the yard but kept his eye on the mom. He couldn’t dare disturb his perception she held of him. After several minutes she called to him, “Wylie, are you ready to meet our chaos?” Slowly, with his tail held high he marched to the door.

            The children stood in the doorway of the next room peering in as he placed all four feet in the house. The triumph of being in a house with the smells of family emanating from every corner gave him an overwhelming sense of longing. Memories began to flood his mind.

            Sometimes when the weather was nice and occasionally when snow threatened, his family would load the car with bags and sometimes boxes. They would put the big pan on the back porch full of water and fill his usual dishes heaping with food. When he was younger a neighbor would stop by once a day but as he learned to guard only his property the neighbor was no longer needed. The back porch had a square cut out with heavy material over the opening to keep most of the wind out.

He spent a lot of time with Cat in that space. Cat was sometimes mean to him but other times she would help him. She could jump and sit on the windowsill and peer into the kitchen at his mom. So, Wylie, knowing he was not supposed to mess up the door by scratching, would ask Cat to hop up and get his mom’s attention, and then he would whine at the crack of the door. Eventually his mom would recognize his plea. There were times when his family had company that his mom would crack the door and tell him to get in his bed and point at the cozy spot she kept in the corner for him. His mom never left him on the back porch without reward. She would cut up trimmings from the scrumptious meal she cooked for him.

Wylie meets Bernie.

The clip clop of nails on a hardwood floor brought him back to the present. Before him stood one of his kind. Eye to eye they looked at one another. The mom’s voice was gentle and soothing, “You two have to be nice. Bernie, Wylie is an old man so you be gentle with him.” Wylie felt no threat from this physically large comrade although she was as big as he; she was also still very much a pup. He watched her nearly fall over her own feet and scoffed at her antics but he felt a kinship. He could tell by the way she looked at the mom that she loved her family more than any treat in the whole world.

The afternoon was very cautiously orchestrated by the mom. She fed the two dogs in the same room but sat between the bowls to keep any “shenanigans,” as she called it, from occurring. He realized that the kids were actually three individual two-leggers. The eldest was kind but not friendly. He again heard that “stink” word said in his direction. He decided that kind looks toward her were the best defense. The littlest was a wiggly sort but very kind and quite generous. He watched the quiet one snuggle with this Bernie of his. His hearts memory would ache with the thoughts of his children as he sat quietly observing the bond.

The mom had placed a bed to the side of the room. She sat next to it as she patted the covering calling him. He did not want to disappoint so he sat in front of her and extended a paw to shake. She laughed at him and again patted the covering on the cushion. This time he put a paw on the bed. She told him what a good boy he was and patted again. He realized that this bed was for him. It had been so long since he’d had a bed of his own. A place where he was never run off, he though as he drifted off to sleep.