Little Cutie

         Evening sunset painted the sky nature’s most beautiful coral and turquoise, a majestic panorama that would make Michelangelo weep at its glory. It tinted the landscape with a rich golden glow. Evening birdsong lilted across the air. In the distance the laughter of children at play and the calls of a neighborhood softball game rang out. Late summer roses perfumed the park with their lush scent. The flowers, trees and grass showed off the best nature had to offer, but Savannah didn’t notice.

         She jogged along a seldom-used, dusty trail in a remote corner of the park where trees and bushes were overgrown and poked their way through a tumble of boulders scattered on uneven ground.

The designers had opened only a rough path into this portion of the park. They left it otherwise unchanged as a sop to the nature-minded hikers and naturalists who wanted the entire park returned to nature’s control. Savannah came here because few others did. She craved solitude. The insincere sympathy of business and church acquaintances, and the well-meant concern of dear friends wore on her nerves daily until she thought she must go mad or at the very least run screaming from the room.

         She didn’t dare do either.

         So she consoled herself by being unavailable. No one knew she scurried away almost every evening to run off restless energy, to escape. Since no one knew, no one found her. She liked it that way. She paced the paths on auto-pilot and made a game of not thinking, not feeling. The game ate up the long empty evenings. She’d return home at dark exhausted enough to sleep deep and dreamless through the night.

         Work patterned her days, the remote pathways her evenings and exhausted sleep her nights. She could exist this way. She could hold off the aloneness and emptiness where Brian ought to be – Brian, her best friend and dearest lover, her passion, her reason for living. They all told her not to expect too much when she and Brian wed. They were wrong. Marriage drew them closer and wove their lives together like a fine-twisted cord of steel and silk – strong and sensuous, filled with mystery and allure. They were right. Sudden death ripped them apart. A freak accident stole Brian away and left Savannah with long empty days and nights to fill. She felt as if a part of her had died with him. Then again perhaps it had.

         The insistent whining and whimpering chiseled through Savannah’s wall of non-listening before she realized it. She broke her stride, paused. What is that? Almost sounds like a child – but not quite. She sighed. Habitual responsibility still lurked in her soul. She couldn’t turn away from the anguished cries. It could be a child, hurt or lost.

         “Damn!”

         “Damn! Damn! Damn!” She groaned, turned off the path and started to pick her way over the boulders toward the crying. She scrambled over several huge boulders. Scratched and scraped her way through untrimmed brambles and bushes until she came to a small clearing overhung with willow branches and slanting boulders. The source of the irritating interruption to Savannah’s routine was wedged between two boulders. He couldn’t get out no matter how he twisted and wriggled.

         “Well,” she said somewhat amused. “So you are the source of all the fuss. How can so much noise come from such a small body?”

         Bright button eyes sparkled at the sound of her voice. A stubby tail of a non-descript color wagged the dog. Silly, little, flopped-over ears perched on top of his head. If he’d been a boy child she would have said he was in sore need of a haircut. On the little dog shaggy, uneven hair was endearing. He held a wrinkled and half crushed, no-tear, Tyvek envelope in his mouth.

         She bent down. With gentle care Savannah maneuvered the little dog out of his tight prison. That’s odd, she thought. He didn’t try to bite, or escape. His silky, soft fur was clean and bramble free. Running free in here, he should be a matted, filthy mess.

         “Where’s you owner, little one?” she asked.

         The little dog snuggled into her arms and wagged his non-tail hard. His whole body thumped against her ribs. She looked into his bright eyes and happy expression.

         “I am not your owner!” she snapped. The little dog seemed to sigh and wilted into her embrace.

         “What’s this?” Savannah reached for the creased envelope still clutched in his teeth. He growled deep in his throat. “Alright, already! I won’t touch it.”

         She sighed, this time in resignation.

         “Let’s go see if anyone’s looking for you.” She settled the little fur bundle on one hip and began picking her way rock-by-rock and bush-by-bush out of the boulder strewn grotto.

         Twilight painted the sky a midnight azure by the time Savannah made her way back to the more-frequented area of the park. It was too early for moon-light strollers and too late for children and families out to play. Everyone, it seemed, had gone home to dinner and prime time TV.

         She circled the perimeter of the rougher area several times. No one. No crying children missing their lost puppy. No lonely old folks calling to their absent four-legged companions. No distracted yuppies looking for a lost dog. No one at all.

         “What am I going to do with you?”

         “Take me home!” his entreating eyes pled.

         “Damn! I don’t want a dog!”

         Savannah stood in the paved square across from the park and scanned the surrounding area one last time. Angry autos dashed by filling the street with their reverberating roars. Late for dinner, she surmised, their drivers had no attention to spare for the lives of little, confused dogs who might stumble into their destructive paths.

         “I can’t leave you here,” Savannah moaned. “You’ll be road kill in no time. Even I’m not that heartless.” If he was a kitten he would have purred. He snuggled into her embrace and drifted off to sleep, the mysterious envelope still clamped in his jaws.

         Morning found her at the pet store pushing a basket overflowing with doggie necessaries: a soft squishy bed, a walking harness and leash, a bone-shaped food dish, a never-empty water bowl, a big bag of dog food, several cans of soft doggie food, an assortment of doggie treats, a scattering of dog toys, a “How To” guide for new dog owners and a long list of agencies that might have word of owners looking for lost dogs. A store clerk helped her fit the little dog with the leash and harness. He wriggled and pranced at her side.

         “Sheesh!’ she told the cashier as she paid for her purchases. “Dogs take as almost much gear as babies.” She dumped her purchases into her wheeled marketing cart.

“Thank heaven, I grabbed the stupid cart,” she said “Never would have gotten all this junk home without it.”

         The little dog walked along beside her, stopping to sniff almost every bush and pole between the pet store and her condo. She dragged the overfull marketing cart along behind them. She caught herself returning the smiles of children who stooped to pet her companion and old folks who stopped to reminisce about dogs they once had that looked just like hers.

“Do you know anyone who lost their dog?” she asked each one who stopped to admire the little fur ball.

         Two weeks later, Savannah stopped calling the animal rescue agencies. She’d gotten no response to the ads she’d placed in the local paper. The flyers she’d taped on every pole and wall between her condo and the park faded in the sun or blew away in the wind. She hadn’t received a single call. She stopped pestering the staff at the pet store and resigned herself to being a dog owner. She couldn’t quite bring herself to name the small mutt, so she just called him Little Cutie - L.C. for short.

         The mysterious envelope disappeared about a week after she brought L.C. home. She never saw it again. She sometimes wondered about it. It had seemed odd he was so protective of the envelope. The only time he ever growled at her was when she tried to take it.

         Time and distance blunt pain even if they don’t heal a soul’s gaping wound.

         Savannah and L.C. fell into a routine and grew comfortable with each other. He gave her something to think about beside herself and how much she missed Brian. As time wore on, she became less anti-social and began meeting with treasured friends. She dated a couple of times but found she compared each man with Brian. They all fell short. It’s unfair to expect them to fill my emptiness. No one can replace Brian. She stopped dating.

         She still spent most evenings jogging in the park, but now L.C., proud and jaunty, trotted beside her snugged into his harness and leash. She often ran the manicured trails that wound through the rose gardens, around the children’s playgrounds and between the ball diamonds. Some evenings she stopped and watched an inning or two while giggling, chattering children ran over to pet and make a fuss over her Little Cutie.

         The seasons passed. While not blissful Savannah found contentment in the small pleasures of her life.

* * * * * * *

         The screeching fire alarm yanked Savannah from a dead-to-the-world slumber. She gagged and gasped. Greasy smoke hung heavy in the air. She grabbed her blue jeans from the floor. As her feet exited the legs she slammed them into her sneakers. She screamed for L.C. as she raced through the hall to the front room. Dense, black smoke filled the front of the condo. She choked and coughed and snatched her backpack from the floor near the front door. She jerked her hand back from a door knob too hot to touch. She jammed burned fingers in her mouth and ran back through the living room, yanked the sliding glass door open, and stepped out onto her balcony. She sucked in huge gasping breathes of clean air.

“L.C.! L.C.! Where the hell are you dog?” she called back into the house. No answering yip or whine. A death-cold fist of fear twisted around her heart. “Please!” she begged. “Come on Baby! Where are you?” Only the devouring roar of the raging inferno answered.

         Sirens screamed in the distance. She took several deep breaths and crawled back into the condo. She scoured each room for L.C. Each favorite hidey-hole was empty.

         Sobbing, she cried his name over and over. No bark answered.

         Light-headed and gasping, oxygen-starved she crawled back out onto her third floor balcony. Slumped over the railing she sobbed and prayed, “Oh God, please, bring him back. Please . . . Please . . . Please . . . Don’t let him die. Please.”

Below fire engines lined up to do battle. Fire fighters armored in heat resistant fire gear and breathing equipment scurried with well-rehearsed efficiency to take their posts and do battle with the flames.

Savannah kept calling Little Cutie.

         Smoke poured from the open door behind her. Sobbing and gasping she called to the fire fighters below. They waved at her to stay down as they spun the truck ladder toward her balcony. A solid-built fireman scooted up the ladder and reached out to her.

         “My dog,” Savannah begged. “I can’t find my dog. I looked every where. You have to save him!” She tried to pull her rescuer into the condo. Flames licked her front door as if tasting forbidden delights soon to be devoured like greedy urchins stuffing down stolen sweets.

         “No Miss.” He drew her back to the edge of the balcony. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t go in there now.”

         Her swollen, tear-filled eyes pleaded. He looked away and urged her toward the ladder.

         “I’ll radio the crew inside. Tell them to keep an eye out for him,” he promised when they reached the ground. “That’s all we can do. Others need help.”

         She nodded, defeated. Tears ran twisting trails through the soot and ash caked on her face. Her body shook with grief. Savannah realized only now how much she loved the little fur ball.

         She sat in mute despair while an E.M.T. checked her over. With a brisk nod he pronounced her fit and sent her off with a Red Cross worker, who’d just arrived on the scene to help the now homeless fire victims. She clutched her backpack.

“At least I didn’t dump it out when I got home,” she tried to make polite conversation with the overwhelmed Red Cross lady. “Wish I’d grabbed a jacket, a clean shirt and a bra though.”

“We’ll get you taken of,” the harried woman promised. “Wait over there okay?” She gestured toward a group of milling, displaced residents waiting to learn where they would be shuffled off to.

         Savannah felt raw and exposed. She clung to her backpack as if it alone offered an anchor in her storm. She asked every fire fighter whose attention she could grab if they’d seen any sign of L.C. “At least knowing if he’s gone is better than not knowing anything,” she kept telling herself. They all shook their heads “no” sympathy written every line of their ash-smeared faces. Then they rushed off.

         She stood silent near a pile of smoking cinders and rubble that was once the parking garage. Sooty water running in wide rivulets painted abstract patterns across the dry cement at her feet. Dawn tinged the sky with the promise of morning. Savannah felt empty. She missed the feel of L.C.’s leash tugging at her hand when he jumped around excited and trying to grab her attention. She missed the warmth of his little furry body when he cuddled in her arms to sleep. She missed his yapping demands when she disappeared into a book and he wanted a snuggle.

         “What now?” she whimpered. “Oh God, I’m all alone again!” Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill once more.

         A voice boomed over a bullhorn and called displaced residents to the bus waiting to take them to temporary shelter. She turned away, numbness starting to set in. Non-feeling would be her sanctuary, her shield, her safety net.

         “My life has been yanked out from under me again.” She stumbled away from the home she’d known for the last four years. She missed it already.

* * * * * * *

         Two days later Savannah stood in front the burned out husk that was once her home. Arson stole it. The perpetrator had done his work well. What was left of her building would soon be razed.

         She watched the other residents wandering about. They looked as dazed as she felt. The acrid smell of smoke still permeated the air. They waited for the management company’s representative. Rumor had it that a developer was going to offer residents a buy out, so he could build a planned-community complex most of them wouldn’t be able to afford to live in.

         When the big black limo rolled up Savannah wandered over to the meeting site. The small courtyard and garden at the edge of the condo units had escaped the fire’s destruction. Some of the plants were a bit droopy and singed at the edges, but otherwise the serene little retreat was unscathed.

The developer’s representative stepped up onto a cement bench. “Ladies. Gentlemen. May I have your attention, please?” he called out. Most gathered in.

         Savannah’s mind drifted as he launched into his spiel. She wandered off to one side of the little courtyard and slumped down on one of the quaint park benches scattered about. She once spent occasional evenings there while L.C. bounced around and did his night-time doggie business. She even missed carrying the pooper-scooper and poo-poo disposal bag. Her eyes misted. An ache of longing crept up and threatened her fragile composure.

         A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she remembered him sneezing and snoofing one evening after getting a face full of pollen from one from the blooming bushes. She could almost see him prancing across the walkway, his little head held high, his button eyes shining, carrying that age-worn envelope . . .

         “L.C.!” she shouted as she realized her little dog was standing right in front of her, stubby excuse for a tail wagging the dog. She dropped to the ground and scooped him up.

         “I thought I’d lost you, you little pest! Where have you been?” She hugged him and laughed and cried as he wriggled and tried to lick her face around the envelope.

         “What’s this?” she asked when he dropped it in her lap. He planted both feet on her chest and slobber-licked her entire face. She hugged him again. “I’m glad to see you too.” Several of her neighbors scurried over to see what all the fuss was about.

         They laughed and rejoiced with her and made a big to do over the little dog. He was in his element.

         When things calmed down a bit L.C. curled in her lap and dozed. Savannah picked up the envelope. It was dirty, worn and singed at the corners. It had doggie teeth marks all over one side.

         She remembered the day she’d found L.C. It sure looked like the same envelope. She turned it over and gasped.

         Her name was written across the front in neat, fluid, and familiar handwriting. There was no address. She started shaking. L.C. opened his eyes and gave her a little yip as if to say, “It’s yours. Open it, silly.”

         She held it close and felt the tears pour down her face. L.C. pushed his head under her hand and snuggled close against her. “Wherever did you get this?” she asked.

         The other residents had wandered off to various secluded spots in the court yard, she supposed to discuss the developer’s offers. She sat in stunned silence and cradled her dog. The envelope lay crushed between them. As the afternoon slipped away, curiosity got the better of her. She opened the envelope. Inside was a cashier’s check, made payable to her, for five million dollars. It was dated the day of the fire. When she pulled the check out a folded sheet of cream linen stationery fluttered out.

         It was covered with the same small, neat handwriting.

         My dearest Savannah, it began.

         I have no idea when you will receive this. I can’t even begin to tell you the how or the why of it. Yet somehow I know this will reach you when you most need it. I’ll never be able to explain why I it dated so far ahead but something or someone deep inside told me I must. It scares me to think I may not be there for you when you’ll need me most. It scares me even more that I couldn’t get a moment’s peace until I did this.

         In any case I’ve done all I can to protect and provide for you. If it comes to my worst imagining, please go forward and live a rich, full life. You deserve the very best.

         I pray I will come home to you soon. We’ll laugh over this and plan that world cruise we always talked about but could never afford.

         The enclosed check is my inheritance from the father I never met. The lawyer who told me about it said my mother left the man before I was born, and other than informing him of my birth, never had any other contact with him. He said the man followed my schooling and my career but, per my mother’s wishes, never interfered. He didn’t know any more of their agreement than that. Of course, since mother is gone I can’t ask her.

         Anyway the man died last fall. After the courts and the tax people had their way with my portion of his estate this is what is left. If something happens to me, I want it all to go to you. I know you’ll miss me even more than I miss you now. With this at least you won’t have to worry about how to live.

         I love you with all of my heart and soul, my darling, and I can’t wait to see you.

         I’ll be home soon.

         Your, Brian

         L.C. sat up and looked into her eyes. She saw a strange sort of mystical intelligence shining in their depths.

         “What are you, dog? An angel with fur sent to keep me living?” Savannah laughed an odd, bitter laugh and sunk her face into his fur. “Guess we have a trip to plan. How do you feel about boats, L.C.?”

         As she hugged her dog, the letter fluttered to her lap. It was dated the day Brian died.