Christmas Eve
It was not the way he thought he’d spend Christmas Eve when he moved to this place four years ago. A tiny village, with one store and a gas station, both of them closed on this holiday.
He really wanted a cigarette. It wasn’t like he was addicted, but holidays brought him the craving for nicotine the way they brought out hungers for food and drink for others.
He looked in the bucket where people, standing in the cold, had flicked their butts some hours ago.
Empty. The gas station owner was a clean freak. Of course she’d empty the butt bucket before she closed for the holiday. Pathetic. He was considering stealing a half-smoked cigarette butt because he needed a hit of nicotine.
Maybe at the grocery store. He started walking. Something moved, in the shadows. He stopped. Two streetlights in the whole village, and neither of them shined in the alley where he saw the movement. He began walking again.
He saw the shadow again in the alley between the post office and the grocery store. And he heard crying.
A child? Not quite. But close. A puppy. He knelt in the snow and made the cooing sounds he remembered making when he was a child, when he’d had his first puppy. He closed his eyes and sent a telepathic “come here.”
The dog was unimpressed and remained in the shadows.
He waited for a minute, five, then ten. Finally, the crying stopped. He opened his eyes again. The puppy was halfway between him and the alley, looking at him with a tilted head.
This time, he said it aloud, “It’s okay, pup, come here.” No exclamation points, just quiet and reassuring.
He could see it clearly now, black fur against white snow. Nose pointed in the air, as if sniffing out his intentions. She couldn’t be more than a couple months old. She? He couldn’t see evidence of her gender, but he felt it.
The dog put another foot forward.
He held still. He’d almost forgotten about a cigarette now.
One more step.
“Do you have a name, little one?”
He could see no collar.Her eyes locked on his, and began a steady walk to him, still sniffing the air.
Before she got too close, he put out his hand, palm up, so when she got there, she would know he meant no harm.
And at last she got there. He could feel her breath on his fingers. He tickled her chin. She put her paws on his knees, and looked deep into his eyes.
“I’m going to pick you up, now, little one, is that okay with you?”
She offered no objection. He picked her up, held her quivering body next to him, and unzipped his coat. She crawled into the warmth. He could feel her heartbeat on his chest, in double time compared to his own.
He stood, his knees creaking in the cold. He murmured sweet nothings to her as he continued his way to the grocery.
He looked in the outdoor ashtray, and there was a half smoked cigarette, with only a little lipstick on it. And right next to it, an unopened can of Spam.
“God’s been good to us, little one, this Christmas Eve.”
And that is how little Eve, a Black Lab philosopher mix, earned her name and came to live with the strange man in the middle of nowhere.
An angel laughed in the heavens as two lost souls found each other, and the half-smoked cigarette remained right where it was.
© 2017 Leland Dirks.
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