The Little Black Dog

First of the New Year 2019

Dear Friends,

It is the bitter cold and battering winds that keep me company this morning at work and for those of you who know me well this is a place I am well accustomed to with my long years in the blue uniform. However, even as darkness is the coming set of my mind it comes to me that there have been some happy happenings over the last week and I should relay them to you as a moment of warmth to start the New Year.

On mid Christmas day I stepped out my door to get something from my car and saw a little black dog making his way purposefully down my street to the dead end. This was nothing odd as I had just the day before chased a dog back home. I was thinking of following the little dog when a man turned the corner and asked if I had seen a dog and so I said yes and we both followed the little animal down the street.

This man would later tell me his name was Scott, and the dog was not his at all, but he had been after the little thing for more than an hour. Soon after we reached the end of the street his wife joined us in their jeep, and a few of my neighbors came to box the little dog in. We were right in front of Vince’s house and the old man tried to calm the dog down with some biscuits.

Vince is an old Marine and on this day, as with most, was happy and full of light beer. He leashed his own dog, and his happy Scotty girl showed the little black dog that we were all friends here. The little dog, however, was not impressed and kept us away with some yapping. He took to hiding under Vince’s truck, but we set a perimeter and kept him from running off.  

The little dog made a run for it pointed in the same direction as the end of the street but stopped on the next driveway. He knew he was cornered so he let out his bladder on the ground nervous as a dog should be in these courters. He took refuge in a doorway and was soon wrapped in Scott’s jacket. Scott had gotten the worst of this with the little dog taking a nip out of his thumb.

Vince went and got a harness, and we leashed the dog giving the bleeding Scott the ability to put the little fellow down. Then we cleaned Scott’s thumb and I made some peace with the little dog before Scott’s wife came and gave the animal some water. In twenty minutes we went from a dog bighting one of us to him lapping water out of one of our hands. It was a good moment and old Vince said it was a Christmas story.

Scott figured he would walk the little dog home, and I had him call me on my cell to have my number just in case he needed to get hold of me. Well, a few hours later I got a call telling me that Scott’s cat was having none of this, and the dog would need to sleep over at my house for the night.

In any case, the next morning I took the dog to the vet, and we scanned him for a chip but could find none. I texted the bad news to Scott but he let me know that the dog’s owner had been found, and she was on her way over. The dog happily humped my leg to tell us how happy he was that he would soon be home.

Well, a rather husky woman came to get the dog and the dog was less than impressed. He was more than happy to spend his time with me but Snicker, as we learned the dog was named, went home.

I took old Vince his harness and thanked him with some dark porter for his troubles. It has become a custom with me to share new beers with my drinking friends.

The next morning I was roused and informed that the dog’s owner had given us chocolates and sparkling grape juice as thanks. As for me, I got what I wanted when I saw a lost soul make it home.

Live in this world, friends,

Richard Leland Neal