Spike watched the fire from the alley, excitement growing with each flash. He couldn’t hear it yet, but soon the crackles would begin, and hopefully before the firemen got it under control, the eerie rolling roars he craved.
It was an abandoned building, he never wanted to hurt anyone, he just needed this fix every now and then. He’d gotten addicted to fires as a boy, helping his father with demolitions that sometimes required burning. Fire was so exciting! He knew, his father worried about how much he loved them. Fortunately, his dad never found out how bad it had gotten before he passed.
Suddenly he heard another sound, what was it? He moved closer listening carefully. A whimper? A dog? Was there a dog in the building? Panicking he ran to the closest window. He couldn’t see through it, picking up a brick he smashed the window. Now he could hear the dog, barking and crying inside, scared. He called but it did not come. This couldn’t happen.
Pulling over a crate he launched himself into the opening, tumbling over boxes and junk, landing on the floor. Jumping up, adrenaline pumping, he had to race as the flames grew thicker.
The dog was there, shut in a room. A watch dog, there to scare away intruders. He grabbed the dog carrying the frightened animal toward the window. Flinging the dog onto the boxes, he pushed him out the window just as a wave of smoke billowed into the room, overwhelming him. The dog was safe.
As he lay on the floor, Spike finally heard the rolling roars of the fire, and beyond the sirens arriving. Opening his eyes, he saw his father reaching out a hand to him.
“You did good boy,” his father said, “Let’s go.”