Charlotte walked slowly toward the neighborhood pool to staple the last of the posters to the fence. She carefully stapled the color poster, laminated to protect it from the rain, between the hand drawn and colored WANTED poster for Barney, a yellow tabby, missing since last Tuesday, and a black and white REWARD poster for Jiggles, an ancient looking black Lab, who NEEDS MEDICATION. She stood back to inspect her work, noting the superiority of her poster to the others. She was certain the vivid color of Hal’s auburn coat and the glisten in his amber eyes would catch the attention of the summer pool goers. She felt the tears stinging her swollen eyes and threatening to stream down her face for the umpteenth time in the last day, and dabbed them away with the crinkly tissue she had in her shorts pocket.
She dreaded going home to the empty house yet naively hoped someone might have already seen one of the posters and left a message on her answering machine. She walked the three blocks home, ignoring the neighbors she had never met and their children playing along the way. As she walked in the front door and hung the leash she’d carried, just in case she found him, on it’s designated peg, she noted with disappointment the message light was dark – no calls. What to do now? She’d placed a lost dog ad in the local paper, posted a message and picture on several websites, and stapled posters in every conceivable spot in a five mile radius. She felt lost.
Hal had been her companion, her friend, her family for three years. She had happened upon the Adoption Day at the local animal rescue organization quite by accident. It had never occurred to her to adopt a pet of any sort, much less a shedding, pooping, unruly hulking brute of a dog. She had stopped at the art supply store to buy some new brushes and had to walk past the pens and crates in the parking lot where the adoption event was held. She stepped up her pace to quickly get past the barking, whining and the unpleasant odor when she noticed a dog in a large crate looking intensely at her. Not just at her but into her. His fur was the most incredible auburn color she had ever seen, and his eyes where yellowish amber and rimmed with black. Compelled to come closer, she peered into the pen at him. His bushy tail gently thumped and he raised his head slightly to get a better look at her, as if sizing her up.
A lady wearing an ADOPTION DAY t-shirt noticed her, and said, “That’s Hal. He’s a good boy, kinda wild. Do you have a fence?”
“Oh, I can’t take him. I’m just walking in to get something.”
“That’s too bad. We’ve had Hal a couple of years. Can’t seem to find a good match for him. Don’t know why. He’s great with kids, and he’s housetrained. You have kids?”
“No, no kids.”
The woman, knowing a sucker when she saw one, opened the door to the pen and snapped a leash onto Hal’s collar. Before she knew what was happening, Hal bolted out of the pen and immediately jumped and placed his huge feet on Charlotte’s shoulders and licked her face.
“Seems to like you,” she said.
Charlotte was overwhelmed. She’d never had a dog, didn’t have a clue what dogs were like except that this one was big and friendly.
The lady in the t-shirt said, “Would you like to fill out an application?”
************
Charlotte sat in the quiet study, looking at Hal’s bed in the corner. The shape of his sleeping body was imprinted on the soft, worn fabric, and a coating of red fur completed the outline. His well worn tennis ball peeked out from under his bed. She closed her eyes and imagined him there, sleeping his peaceful yet active sleep, full of dreams of chasing squirrels, catching the ball, barking at birds, and perhaps all sorts of dog things he remembered from before her time.
She had often wondered what his life had been like before she found him. Today she remembered too well what her life had been like before he had found her. The loneliness washed over her like a sudden rogue wave, knocking her from her tenuous perch and into a sea of sadness. She felt as if she would die, having never experienced such powerful feelings. She’d played over every scenario in her mind, panicking at the thought of him hurt or even dead. If he was lost, what would happen to him on his own? Now she wondered what would happen to her without him. She lay down on Hal’s bed, smelling his smell, and sobbed until her burning eyes could no longer cry, until merciful sleep allowed some respite.
Awaking an hour or so later, she felt oddly calm. The intense sadness was not gone, but augmented by a feeling of numbness, a feeling she assumed would be considered despair. Having never suffered any loss, she was not sure of the proper terminology. She wandered around the house, not knowing what to do with her time. She hadn’t eaten today, but could not imagine eating. She hadn’t painted or sketched, but there were no images she could reproduce. She simply felt alone. For the first time in three years, she felt absolutely alone. Popular psychology would suggest she confide in good friends to console her and help her work through her grief. Hal had been her only friend and he was gone. She had no one to talk to, no friends, and certainly no family who would care to hear her sad story or comfort her.
Remembering her reaction to the atmosphere in the study, she sat at the kitchen table, trying to ignore the shiny aluminum bowls by the back door that held Hal’s food and water, fearing another round of tears. Yet it seemed the tear factory had closed. The numbness seemed even worse. She tried to think rationally, tried to craft a plan of action for the ‘next phase,’ now that the immediate tasks of newspaper ad, internet posting and distributing laminated posters had been completed.
In a moment of clarity, she’d remembered the list of animal shelters. She had called them all last night to ask them if they had taken in an auburn Husky mix, sixty pounds, amber eyes, wearing a blue collar with a heart shaped name tag engraved with “Hal” and her phone number. Explaining that she’d left to go to the grocery, and didn’t know the gate to the fence was open. She’d only been gone a half an hour but when she got home, Hal was not in the yard. He couldn’t have gotten very far. She felt awkward explaining, telling the same story over and over on each phone call, but strangely relieved to be able to tell her story to someone, to hear a friendly, sympathetic voice. She hastily grabbed the list from the notepad by the phone. After ten minutes she had called them all again, and none of them had taken in a dog resembling Hal. In each call, she could hear the cacophony of dogs barking in the background and her heart ached to think of all those misplaced or discarded dogs. No tears this time, just emptiness.
She could stand the barren house no longer, and grabbed the leash from the peg, slid her cell phone in the pocket of her shorts, and headed out the front door. She could do no good just sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself. She turned right after leaving the house, and realized she had not been on this section of her street in the five years she had lived here. She always drove into the neighborhood, turned right onto her street, and pulled in her driveway four houses on the right. She’d never had a reason to drive past her house.
She walked briskly, feeling better just for doing something. The heat of the day was intense, yet the feel of the sun baking her skin was immeasurably better than the hollowness she had been feeling. She looked from side to side as she walked thinking maybe Hal would just appear from nowhere and this nightmare would be over. She called, “Hal! Come Hal!” now and again as she walked, clapping her hands and whistling. She continued down the street, and turned left onto another street she had never known was there. Several children were playing in the street, and when they heard her calling “Hal!” they all ran up to her.
A small, blonde haired girl, maybe six or seven years old, said, “Is that your dog on the poster at the pool?”
Charlotte stopped and surveyed the troop of children, and said, “Yes, that’s my dog. His name is Hal.”
The little girl said, “He’s pretty. Is he a nice dog?”
“Yes, he’s a very nice dog. He’s the best dog.” She didn’t expect it, but the tears were back, in force. Thankfully she still had the crinkly tissue, still damp from this morning. She dabbed her eyes, and tried not to cry in front of these children who she’d never met.
“Can we help you find him?” The other kids chimed in “We can help! We know all the secret places!”
Charlotte was overcome again with tears, and sat down on the curb, all the children crowded around her. The blonde girl said, “I lost my kitty last winter and I cried so hard! We looked everywhere and it was cold and I thought she would freeze to death. But we found her under the house and she is just fine. So don’t cry.”
Charlotte wiped her eyes and nose and for a brief moment wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the scene – a grown woman crying like a baby in front of a bunch of little children. But after she’d spent the last day without a friend in the world, after losing the only friend she had – the one who didn’t judge her, couldn’t lie to her, never let her down, and loved her completely- these children had offered her help and hope.
She stood up and said, “Go ask your moms if you can help.”
