TALE OF THE LITTLE RED DOG
by Kathy Pippig Harris
It was a late September afternoon and Gerald was driving down a
country road that took him through some vineyards.
Down between two rows of grapevines something brownish-red
caught his eye. Gerald slowed the car to a stop.
With a hobbling gait, a tiny animal made its way toward Gerald's
car. Gerald opened his door and stepped out onto the dirt shoulder.
The small animal kept advancing, its head tilted at an odd angle.
As the creature drew closer, Gerald wondered how the animal
could stand, let alone walk -- it was nothing but fur, skin, and
bones.
Gerald knelt down, keeping still, until the small dog took a few
more halting steps, then as if surrendering, the little fur boy
collapsed at Gerald's feet. He was so frail looking, Gerald
hesitated to touch him.
It was when the red dog turned his head up to peer at Gerald,
that Gerald lost all his careful inhibition. One of the young dog's
eyes was totally destroyed.
From his clear eye, the little dog studied him. He looked so
sad it nearly broke Gerald's heart. Gerald gently scooped the fur
boy up.
"How have you made it this far?" he muttered before settling the
little guy on the passenger seat of his car. He drove to the vet he
used for his senior Airedale Terrier, Chauncey.
The vet, in examining the dog said, "He must be in a lot of pain
with that ruined eye. The injury has been left untreated for too
long. I'll do all that I can to make him well." Gerald nodded and
left the office.
Three days later Gerald brought the furry patient home. He had
an e-collar on to prevent him from scratching at the stitches that
kept his eyelids shut. The infected, damaged eye had been removed.
Gerald held the little boy and stroked him tenderly. The
twinkle in the dog's remaining eye and his expression of thankful joy
touched something deep in Gerald's soul. He decided to keep him, but
he needed to see how his older dog would get along with the newcomer.
As it turned out, the elder dog would have nothing to do with
the small red dog and there had been a couple episodes where the
Airedale had physically threatened him. Gerald and his wife were
devastated. They had both come to love their little warrior.
So, Gerald called the lady who ran a no-kill shelter in the next
county and asked if she might accept a one-eyed little dog, with a
big heart. She readily agreed after Gerald explained the
circumstances. He added the he'd like to come by every other Friday
to pick the dog up and take him home for weekend visits. It was
Gerald's hope that their Airedale would have a change of heart and
grow to accept the dog as a friend.
One day Gerald got a call from the lady at the no-kill shelter
to tell him it looked like his little rescue had found a forever
home. Gerald knew the time might come when the dog, which he had
never named for fear of becoming too attached, would be noticed by a
loving human and taken home.
"May I come see him, one last time?" he said.
"Of course!"
Within half an hour he was at the shelter. The lady was waiting
for him, the small dog in her arms. She handed him over and the
dog's tail wagged furiously as Gerald held him lovingly. Then the
furry fellow showered Gerald with kisses.
Gerald hugged him tightly and murmured words of affection. He
walked out to a side yard so he could be alone with the now-healthy
fur ball, whose life he had saved. But in saving his life, he had
lost his heart to the brave little warrior with the huge loving
spirit.
Before he left, the lady assured him the red dog was going to a
loving home. He nodded, thanked her and drove away.
It was hard for the lady to tell him about the new home the dog
was going to. Difficult talking to a man whose heart was breaking.
Hard not to cry when she looked into his eyes brimming with tears.
Later that afternoon a woman came to collect her new family
member. She had been told the story about the little dog. And after
she arrived at the shelter, she was told her about the man's last
visit.
In the dog's files, Gerald had left a letter describing how he
had come to know and love the little dog. Included in the letter was
his phone number.
That night, with the phone cradled at her shoulder, the woman
told Gerald all about the red dog's new home. She told him she had
named the furry boy, Furgus and Gerald smiled.
-- Kathy Pippig Harris
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