An Expanse of Dusky Sky

Over the many days since Ollie and Spuds arrived in the country, they have found there’s much they like. The air is warm. The stream provides easy access to water. Their nest under the rocks is dry and protected. There’s plentiful wildlife that they hunt together. Spuds is the more talented hunter of the two, but she’s generous. There was one occasion, however, when she ate all but the claws, the beak, and some entrails of a bird, which she placed in a tidy pile in front of Ollie. He looked down at the pile and up at Spuds, twice.

On a pre-dawn ramble, when the horizon has a thin streak of light, Ollie and Spuds wander through the nearby town. Only the bakery, with steamy front windows, is busy at this hour. They turn onto a street lined with houses with tidy front gardens. One of the houses is overhung by an enormous flowering tree.

Spuds starts to climb the tree, as cats seem compelled to do. Ollie tilts his head at her, but he dutifully stands guard while she climbs into the high branches. From there Spuds can see most of the town and open countryside. She peers into the window of the house and sees a child sleeping. His mouth is open, his face serene, and he clutches a small bear to his chest. Spuds watches the blankets rise and fall with his breath.

Ollie quietly whines, and Spuds descends the tree and sends Ollie a mind-picture of the sleeping child. Ollie thinks of his children, of watching his family through the sliding glass door, of the sound of their voices­­­. Only once had he been allowed inside the house, and that ended with the man yelling at the children and pushing Ollie into the back yard.

The children came out to play sometimes. They circled their arms around Ollie’s neck and pet him gently with their small fingers. They threw sticks for him to chase, a game he found silly but played because the children seemed to enjoy it. The woman gave him food and water daily, each time stroking his head gently and speaking to him. When the weather turned cold the woman stuffed straw into the doghouse and covered the house with a tarp. On cold nights Ollie borrowed into it, but being a pit bull and therefore having little fur, he shivered through the nights.

Spuds gracefully leaps down from tree. Ollie looks into her green eyes and feels something like peace. They retrace their steps through the town. The baker is now standing outside his shop, his apron speckled with flour, his arms folded across his broad belly. He makes a half-hearted attempt to call to them as they walk away.

•

As the weather warms, the farm fields are striped with orderly rows of lime-green plants and the woods grow dense with undergrowth.

With the canopy of the trees providing cover for an afternoon doze, Ollie and Spuds stretch out side by side. Only the occasional buzzing fly disturbs their lazy afternoon. Their ears flick and noses twitch, but they nap, safe and comfortable.

Ollie awakens first, hungry, and noses Spuds. Spud opens her eyes, rises slowly, stretches, and yawns. 

They walk out of the woods and onto a dirt road with weeds poking up between wheel-worn paths. The sun edges lower toward the horizon, casting warm light on the fields. Spuds scans the fields for the movement of mice while Ollie galumphs along behind her.

Spuds sees a child ahead and stops so suddenly that Ollie bumps into her. Though clueless about why they’re stopping, Ollie raises his hackles as a cautionary measure.

A girl is sitting on the side of the lane twirling a long-tasseled wand of grass. She has curly brown hair and wears an oversize sweater that dwarfs her. She notices the animals and looks at them unblinkingly. Her eyes are turquoise-blue.

Ollie glances at Spuds to take his cue. Spuds continues to look at the girl. The girl wordlessly extends her hand. Ollie takes a few tentative steps toward her, pauses, walks closer, pauses, and sits down just out of reach. The girl keeps her gaze on Ollie’s eyes. He rises, moves toward her again, and stretches out his head toward her. She raises her hand slowly and strokes the top of his head. Ollie holds very still and lets her.

Spuds observes them for a few minutes and then walks toward them. She sits down a few feet away. The girl regards her. The three of them sit in stillness. The setting sun burnishes the animals’ fur. As the sunset colors start of the fade, the girl rises. Ollie looks up at her expectantly. The girl picks at the loose threads on the elbow of her sweater and then looks at them.

“Okay. I’m Tori. I can take care of you, but I can’t let anybody know. Let’s go.” She walks away. Both animals stay put.

“Come on.” Tori moves her arm in a wide, welcoming sweep.

Ollie walks toward the girl. As he closes the distance, he turns to Spuds. She licks a spot on her forearm and joins them. They walk along the dirt road together through the sloping fields, an expanse of dusky sky above them.

Into view comes a white farmhouse with black shutters, a red barn, and several outbuildings. Tori says, “You can hide in the barn, okay?” She nods at them, as though they’ve answered. In a way they have. “There’s a special spot in the barn that’s all mine. A separate door, a little window. It’s just the best place in the world.” She claps her hands together lightly a few times. “I’ve got my favorite books there and paper to draw on, and candy.”

Tori stops at the edge of a line of pine trees, stoops down to their level, and extends the palm of her hand toward them. Spuds allows Tori to pet her. “Okay, follow behind me, and don’t say a word.” She leads them along a path out of sight of the farmhouse and cuts over to the back of the barn. She opens a door and motions them inside. Spuds and Ollie enter and blink in the semi-darkness. The room has stacks of hay bales, a ladder to a loft, a small table by a dusty window, and a chair with stuffing coming out of the arms.

“I’ll be back with some water and food. Aunt Joan and Uncle Jon can’t know about you. They already have a dog and a cat. Once when I asked about adopting more, they said no way.” She sighs in a disapproving way. “I’ll be back. Don’t make any noise, okay? Not a peep.”

She closes the door behind her. Ollie looks at Spuds and wags his tail.

Spuds ascends the ladder to the loft. More hay bales, and the scent of mice. She jumps down onto the table and looks out the dusty window. Ollie, meanwhile, is rearranging loose hay with his snout and paws to make a comfortable bed.

Tori comes in with a bowl of water slopping down the front of her sweater, two bowls tucked under one arm, and paper bags clutched by the neck. She pours the bags’ contents into the bowls. The lovely clattery sound makes both Ollie and Spuds sit up, alert, remembering the sound from their pasts.

“I’m going to put a rock in the door to make sure it stays open so you can go out and do your business. Go into the woods for that—not on Uncle Jon’s lawn. That would be big trouble. I have to go in for dinner. So,” she pauses, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll have more food for you.”

She scratches under Spuds’ neck and rubs Ollie’s ears, who leans into her hand. Then she’s gone.

Ollie and Spuds eat quickly. Afterwards, Spuds grooms herself. Ollie watches her from his hay nest, his eyelids growing heavy. They flicker open when Spuds nestles beside him, purring. They sleep as the stars move across the sky.

to be continued

(c) 2024 Carolyn Cott