I’m Mutt. At least that’s what most people call me, when they speak to me at all, so I guess that’s my name. I’m keeping watch over my dumpster. There’s a stranger poking about, peeking inside. I don’t growl at him, like I do most poachers because he took the time to give my ears a scratch before taking a look inside.

     I can’t blame him for not knowing it’s my dumpster. How is he to know I’ve found a way to get inside to look for snacks and then get back out again? There’s a stack of pallets that the trash guys never haul away when they empty the bin, and that’s my way in. About six months ago the driver of the trash truck got distracted when he was backing in and caught the corner of the dumpster leaving a nice big dent. Inside the bin, that dent is just what I needed to get myself back out once I finish foraging. That’s why it’s my dumpster. I’m the only one smart enough to figure that out.

     I watch with interest as the man reaches in with a stick that has something pointy on the end. Too bad I don’t have hands instead of paws. I could get me something handy like that. He lifts the stick back out and dangling from the end is a to-go box. I hadn’t seen that getting tossed into the bin or I’d have eaten it right up. My loss. I was watching a fetching little poodle winking at me as her mistress waited for a taxi at the corner.

     Then the man did something totally unexpected. He tossed part of the contents my way. I snagged it out of the air and gulped it down in one swallow. It sure smelled good as it flew through the air. I bet it tasted good, too. I stood and wagged my tail in thanks. This was one of the good guys.

     He gave my ears another scratch as he headed out of the alley. “Maybe I’ll see you again, Buddy.” Then he was gone.

     Buddy? Really? I just met the man and he thinks I’m his buddy? Well, I did let him forage for something to eat in my dumpster. And Buddy sounds a whole lot nicer than Mutt.

     I wonder if there’s more in the bin my new friend didn’t discover. Time to find out.

~~~

     Rain! I hate rain. I hate leaving my dumpster, too, but I hate rain more and there’s really nowhere to find shelter here. With one backward glance at the bin, I head toward the end of the alley and the street. There’s always the chance I’ll find something to munch on between here and the tunnel under the bridge at the park.

     Just to be sure, I check the area around the pizza place on the corner, but there’s nothing in sight. Jingling bells greet me as I trot down the sidewalk and a very fat man in a fuzzy red suit is standing next to a red, round kettle hanging from a tripod thing in a sheltered doorway. I slide in next to him because it’s dry under the doorway overhang. I shake hard to get rid of as much rain as I can.

     The fat man smacks me in the rear and shouts, “Get away from me, Mutt.”

     So, I move on. I’m already wet anyway.

     A woman with an umbrella tosses something into a little round bin at the side of the walkway so I hurry over to check it out. Lucky me. It’s a half a package of crackers and cheese. I like cheese crackers. I snatch them quick before anyone else can beat me to it, and hurry on. The rain is getting heavier.

     The park is deserted. Not exactly the place to be on a rainy day. I quicken my pace to the tunnel.

     A heap of something is piled on one of the benches so I detour to check it out. Smells like a dirty human. But as I sniff closer to be sure, the pile stirs.

     It’s the nice man. The one who scratched my ears. He might have a pile of things over him but in this rain all of it will get wet before much longer. I take a mouthful of the thing he’s got draped over him and pull.

     He tips his head and looks at me. “Sorry, but I don’t have anything to give you today.” Then he shrugs and pulls the cover back over his head.

     I try again. If I can get him on his feet, I can lead him to the tunnel. We can both stay as dry as possible and maybe cuddle together and get warm. At least a little bit warm.

     “What is it, Buddy?” He peeks out at me again.

     I tug at the cover a third time. Then I let go and trot a short way in the direction of the tunnel. I stop and look back. This time I woof softly.

    “You need help with something?” The man sits up.

     I trot back and tug once more, this time at his pants leg.

    “Okay. Okay. I’m coming.” He stands up and looks at me with a question in his eyes.

     I don’t often wish I could talk, but if I could do so now, I’d tell him he once shared his snack with me and I wanted to share my shelter with him. I woof again and take a few more steps in the right direction.

     He hurries over to me and I move a little quicker. Eventually we are both running, me with my usual grace and him lumbering along in my wake with his pile of coverings clutched around his shoulders.

     Finally! The tunnel is just around the corner and a moment later we are dashing inside.

     We aren’t alone. Some of my other canine pals are here before me. And quite a few two-legged fellows I’ve not seen before. Someone has piled some old boxes and junk at the far end to keep rain from running down the length of the tunnel and it is miraculously dry. I pick a nice spot and sit.

     My new friend plops down next to me and sweeps me into his arms. He pulls the pile of old garments and what’s left of an old blanket around both of us. This man is definitely one of the good guys. He appears to have no home to go to and is probably as hungry as I am, yet he trusted me to come to this place and now he’s sharing the only thing he has with me.

     I sigh and lean into the warmth.

~~~

     We huddled together all that first night and a lovely new friendship was born.

     In the morning he told me his name was Joey. At least that was my understanding. He pointed to me and said “Buddy.” Then he would tap his own chest and said “Joey.” Two friends. Joey and Buddy.

     In the days that followed we revisited my dumpster in the alley and I demonstrated my expertise in getting into and out of the dumpster. We shared whatever I found in my bin each day and most days Joey would find things in places I couldn’t get to. We shared those bits as well.

     About two weeks into our partnership, a lady appeared at the corner of the park in a shiny white van and handed us a fluffy new blanket and a bag of goodies. Some of the things that were in the bag puzzled me, but my new friend was delighted.

     He headed for the little pond in the park and next thing I know, he scraped at his face with something shiny and sharp while admiring his reflection in the water. He had a nice face under all that stinky hair. Guess that’s why he was so pleased. Then he started scratching away at his teeth with another treasure from the bag and lastly he smoothed his hair with another gadget he found.

     After Joey was satisfied with all that grooming, he called me to follow and we returned to the bench I’d found him on before. This time I did recognize the prize he pulled from the bag the lady had given him. Treats. My kind of treats.

     “Can’t have them all at once,” he said as he tore open the bag and pulled a piece out. “Gotta make them last.”

     I did my very best to be gracious and take my treat gently from his fingers.

     He found another bag inside and proceeded to unwrap something that smelled like food but not the kind I crave. Next was a package of those lovely cheese and crackers. We shared that.

     That bag was like something magic. Every day Joey found something new inside for us to eat. The magic lasted almost a week.

     Miracle of miracles, the nice lady in the shiny white van appeared just as our horde of munchies ran out. This time she handed over a thin packet of papers and a fat bag of something that smelled very much like dog food. I had no idea what the papers were but Joey was even more excited than I was.

     We returned to the pond where he went through his grooming ritual. Then he strode off with a whole new set to his shoulders and I trotted proudly beside him, to show him I was just as pleased with whatever had come our way as he was.

     I’d been to this side of the park a few times, but not recently. Joey stopped at a shiny long building with a flashing pink sign on top. We went to the door and he held it while I walked inside. The place smelled like I imagine Heaven to smell. All kinds of yummy scents in the air.

     Joey spoke politely to the lady who looked at me with suspicion. But then she relaxed and led us to a booth nearest to the door from which all the lovely scents were wafting our way. Joey pointed under the table. Clearly, that was where I was supposed to be, so I obediently curled up at his feet.

     Soon the lady was back, sliding a plate piled high with food onto the table in front of Joey. Then, to my surprise, she bent and slid a bowl of food under the table for me. I ate every crumb, and licked the bowl so clean they wouldn’t have to wash it. Today was the very best day ever. Even better than the day Joey first stopped to scratch behind my ears.

~~~

     Then Joey disappeared.

     We were rarely apart since that first day sheltering from the rain in the park tunnel, but the next time the lady in the white van came, Joey told me to wait and he’d be back. Then he climbed into the van and they drove off.

     And he didn’t come back.

     I waited. I waited for days. Even when I had to go back to my alley to forage for food, I came back to the last place I saw him. I slept curled up under a nearby park bench and kept watch. Something bad must have happened to Joey. I just knew he wouldn’t abandon me like this. But every day that he failed to return, my hopes grew dimmer.

     I’d gotten used to sleeping curled up under his arm, sharing his warmth. I’d become confident in our joined ability to find food. And I’d become very fond of his fingers scratching behind my ears and hearing his voice speaking to me with such kindness.

     The fat man in red and his useless kettle were gone from the shop where I’d seen him every day. The sound of the tinkling bells was gone from the street.

     All the cozy coverings Joey had managed to amass and hide in our tunnel had been carried off. I sometimes saw one wrapped around someone else with only the faintest scent of Joey still clinging to the folds. I wondered why I bothered to go on. Spring was a pleasant time of year, but it was a long way off, and now there was snow everywhere. I’d taken to sleeping in my dumpster because I could dig down under all the rubbish and find a little bit of warmth.

     Life was pretty grim.

~~~

     “Buddy?”

     The voice came from outside my dumpster.

     I scrambled out of all the boxes and old newspaper, hardly daring to believe my ears.

     “Did you think I was never coming back?”

     It was Joey.

     But not the Joey I remembered. He sounded the same, but he didn’t smell like Joey. And he was wearing entirely different clothes. But it sounded like Joey.

     I whirled around and flung myself at the dent in the side of the dumpster, scrabbling over the icy surface. I just barely managed to clear the edge.

     This version of Joey squatted down and opened his arms. It was my Joey and it didn’t matter that he looked and smelled different. As soon as his fingers found my ears I knew.

     I couldn’t stop wagging my tail as I licked every inch of his face that I could reach.

     Joey laughed as he toppled backward with me on top.

     “We’ve landed on our feet,” Joey said.

     Whatever that meant.

     “Come. You need to get cleaned up so we can have a proper reunion.”

     He got to his feet and whistled. I’d know that whistle anywhere. I followed him out of the alley in the opposite direction of the park. But I didn’t care where he was going. As long as I was going with him, anywhere was just fine with me.

     About two blocks later, Joey stopped and pointed up at a sign swinging over the doorway to a bookshop. I only knew it was a bookshop because I’d seen books before and there were dozens of them in the window and one on the sign Joey was pointing to.

     “This is home, now, Buddy. I’ve got a job in this shop and we get to live upstairs.”

     What Joey did next almost had me wondering if all was really right in my world after all.

     He shucked off his jacket and took me around behind the store to a small patch of grass, mostly covered with melting snow. A giant bucket sat there steaming in chilly air.

     “In you go,” Joey instructed pointing to the bucket.

     I hung my head. Was I being punished for something?

     “C’mon. A bath isn’t the end of the world. I take them all the time now.” He grabbed a handful of fur at the back of my neck and dragged me to the bucket.

     Joey wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose. I let him ease me into the bucket. My surprise at the lovely warmth of the water inside battled with my instinct to shake. Finally, I just laid down and let the warmth seep into my very chilled bones.

     After he’d lathered me up with something that smelled like flowers, and then rinsed me off, he produced a thick, fluffy towel and dried me off. At least as well as he could. Then he led me to the door and showed me all around.

     Upstairs he filled a shiny new bowl with kibbles and some chicken, and once I’d eaten my fill, he revealed a big fluffy bed he told me was mine. I tried it out to please him but I knew, come nighttime, I’d be jumping up onto Joey’s big high bed right beside mine and curling up with him.

The End

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Blessings from my desk to yours: Merry Christmas or a faithful Hanukah and Happy New Year to one and all. Hop on over to see what my fellow blog hoppers have to offer as their gift to you this year.

XXX

Anne Stenhouse 

Connie Vines 

Diane Bator 

Helena Fairfax 

Victoria Chatham 

Sally Odgers