A red pickup truck drove by, with several men riding in the back. They stared at Peter as they passed.
Peter’s stomach growled again. “Hey doggie, I’m going to use these bottles to get me something to eat,” he told the dog, who cocked her head to listen to him. “I’m sure there’ll be enough for a little doggie like you to have some… if you’re hungry,” he offered.
The pickup truck circled back. It slowed down as it approached Peter, and the men in the back began shouting at him.
“Hey you…you stinkin’ bum! Get a job!” one yelled.
Another shouted, “You like bottles? Here’s one, you filthy tramp!” He threw a bottle at Peter, just missing the homeless man’s head.
“Run, doggie!” Peter yelled as the glass bottle shattered on the sidewalk.
The little dog fled, yelping as a shard of glass pierced her paw. She glanced back at the homeless man, who hid behind his shopping cart as a barrage of bottles shattered around him.
Once she’d gotten away, the little dog slowed to a painful walk. Exhausted and injured, she limped behind a bush, and hid beneath its branches.
Chapter 10
When Ryan entered All Paws Animal Shelter, he was greeted by an elderly dog. The hound gave Ryan a thorough sniffing before pushing her warm grey muzzle in his hand.
“Zena? Is that you? Hey old girl, I can’t believe you’re still here,” Ryan said, petting the old dog affectionately.
“She c-c-can’t see or hear that well any m-m-more,” Lana said. The shelter owner had silently walked up behind Ryan, and now stroked the elderly hound.
Zena was a big dog, whose white fur had speckles that made it look like chocolate chip ice cream. Besides her grey muzzle, her entire head was chocolate brown, and the overall effect was that of a hot fudge sundae.
Ryan smiled at Lana. “How old is she now?” he asked.
“Alm-most sixteen,” she answered sadly. Lana had long chestnut colored hair, and bright green eyes, with which she gazed at her beloved hound.
Ryan knelt beside Zena, and gave her a quick exam. He looked into her milky eyes and ran an expert hand over her body. “Well, she has cataracts, and some arthritis, but other than that, she seems to be in amazing shape for a dog her age,” Ryan concluded.
“That’s g-g-good to hear.” Lana smiled and looked at Ryan out of the corner of her eye. Although Ryan had volunteered at the shelter before, Lana had never seen him without his twin brother, Mike. While Mike and Ryan looked almost identical, the similarities ended there. Where Mike was boisterous and friendly, Ryan was thoughtful and reserved.
“Thank you for c-coming. It’s been hard to find veterinary c-care since you and M-Mike m-moved away,” Lana said gratefully.
Zena faithfully followed Lana and Ryan as they made their way around the shelter. The loyal old dog seemed to have a calming effect on the shelter animals as they received their examinations.
While they worked, Lana continued to watch Ryan out of the corner of her eye. She had never had the opportunity to really get to know him. Whenever she had seen Ryan before, he’d always been with his brother, and since Mike was so talkative, Lana had always just thought of Ryan as ‘the quiet twin’.
Lana watched how gentle Ryan was while handling the animals, and she liked how he waited for her to finish what she was saying, in spite of her stutter. When she noticed how long his eyelashes were, she dropped her clipboard, startling the stray cat that Ryan was examining.
“S-sorry,” Lana apologized. Her cheeks flushed as she picked up her clipboard.
Just then, Henry and Teeny arrived at the shelter. Teeny greeted Zena enthusiastically.
Zena tried to sniff Teeny, but the eager little dog was too excited to stay still… until Zena gently laid her big paw on the tiny dog and pinned him in place. After sniffing him thoroughly, she began licking Teeny with her big pink tongue.
Lana and Ryan watched the two dogs interact with amusement.
“You know, I don’t think Teeny would have survived…if it weren’t for Zena,” Ryan said.
Lana nodded. She had been thinking the same thing.
Years ago, Teeny arrived at the shelter as the smallest pup in a litter of strays. The puppies were found with their mother; starving in an abandoned building. As the runt, Teeny was too weak to compete with the other puppies for a place at his mother’s teat. Time after time, Lana positioned the tiny pup at his mother’s nipple, only to find that he’d been pushed away. After repeatedly finding the puppy shivering and alone, Lana started feeding the rejected puppy with an eyedropper, though the twins didn’t have much hope for his survival.
As a last resort, Lana gave the weak little pup to Zena, who immediately began to foster him.
Zena had taken the helpless runt to her bed and curled herself around him; warming him with her body. She nuzzled the pup when he cried and bathed him with her tongue. Between the regular feedings that Lana provided and Zena’s gentle nurturing, Teeny miraculously began to thrive.
The memory of the old dog’s devotion brought tears to Lana’s bright green eyes.
She felt a tug on her sleeve.
“Do you want me to start walking the dogs, or should I start with the litter boxes, Lana?” Henry asked her.
“Oh… the litter b-b-boxes, thanks Henry,” Lana said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
Chapter 11
Sal held up a broken clock. “How about this?” he asked Phyllis.
Phyllis smiled. “Oh, that… isn’t it wonderful? And to think; my neighbor was just going to throw it away! Good thing I saw it before the trash men came.” Phyllis took her favorite photo out of her bag and placed it on the nightstand.
“But Phyllis… we have several clocks already, and this one is broken…” Sal began.
“Well, we can always use a spare.” Phyllis said in a practical tone. “And you’re so good at fixing things… I’ll bet you can fix that, can’t you?”
Sal sighed. “Well yes, but…” he gestured around the cluttered guest bedroom where Ryan and Phyllis were staying until the wedding, “we’re starting to run out of room.”
Since they planned to live together in Sal’s house after the wedding, they had begun bringing some of Phyllis’ things from the senior housing apartment where she lived. Sal was amazed at the amount of stuff Phyllis had accumulated in the tiny apartment, and wondered where it would all go.
“Well, what about the closet?” Phyllis asked.
Sal opened the closet door and scratched his bald head. “Perhaps if I rearranged some stuff, there’d be more space.” He took some boxes out of the closet, and set them on the bed near Phyllis.
“What’s this?” Phyllis asked, taking a glass display case from one of the boxes.
Sal poked his head out of the closet. “Oh…” he said, when he saw what she held, “That’s just… nothing.”
“It sure looks like something to me,” Phyllis said, peering in the glass case. Several distinctive medals were displayed inside.
Sal sighed, and came to sit beside Phyllis. He took the case and opened it. “These,” he said, pointing to two rows of medals, “are Bronze and Silver Stars.”
Phyllis nodded. “What about this one?” she asked, pointing at an ornate, star-shaped medal in the center of the case.
“That’s The Medal of Honor,” Sal answered.
“What’s it for?” Phyllis asked.
“Gallantry and intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty,” Sal recited.
“Oh.” She nodded again. “And this?” she asked, pointing to a heart shaped medal at the bottom.
Sal sighed. It was the last medal he’d earned while on active duty; the day he lost the use of his leg. “That is a Purple Heart,” he said.
Phyllis put her hand and Sal’s arm. “Sal…” she said earnestly, “these don’t belong in the closet.”
Phyllis got up off the bed and grasped her walker. “I’m hanging them over the fireplace,” she stat
ed firmly, as she toddled out of the room.
Sal sat on the bed; absently rubbing his ruined knee. He gazed at the photo Phyllis had left on the nightstand… Ernest appeared to be looking back at him from the picture. Then, to Sal’s amazement, Ernest raised his hand to his forehead in a slow salute.
Chapter 12
Henry worked at the shelter for an hour or so, making sure the animals had clean cages and fresh water in their bowls. Henry made sure each animal received a treat, a cuddle, a kind word, or all three, depending on what the animal seemed to need.
As he carried out his tasks, Henry practiced whistling. He thought about Ernest, who had taught him the art of blowing a tune. Ernest had been such a good whistler that he could summon birds.
Henry practiced a bird call that Ernest had been teaching him before he died. His neck prickled when he heard an answering whistle from behind him.
He turned around. In the corner, a blue parakeet sat innocently in its cage, eating seeds.
Henry stared at the bird for a long moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders and resumed his duties.
When Henry was done, he said goodbye to Lana and Ryan. They were huddled in the small, run down veterinary clinic that was part of the shelter; administering medical treatment to the shelter’s sick and injured animals. Zena came to push her soft, fuzzy snout into Henry’s hand by way of goodbye. Henry petted the old dog affectionately. “See ya next time, Zee,” he told her.
“When you drop Teeny off, will you let my mother know that I might be a while longer?” Ryan asked Henry.
“Sure,” Henry replied. He put Teeny on his leash, and grabbed his satchel. “Don’t worry,” Henry told the tiny dog as they left, “I’ll bring you back to visit soon.”
As they walked, Henry thought about the homeless animals at the shelter, and the sad stories some of them had. Most had been the victims of abuse or neglect, and it made Henry angry, to think that some people could treat animals so cruelly.
Henry again felt the strange prickle on his neck, and Teeny suddenly began pulling hard on the leash.
“What is it, Teeny?” Henry asked. Teeny continued pulling with stubborn determination. The tiny dog led Henry across the street to some bushes. There, Teeny paused, and turned to give Henry an anxious look.
The bushes rustled, and Henry heard a soft whimpering sound. Henry kneeled down and peered into the thicket. A pair of fearful dark eyes looked back at him.
A small brown dog was huddled in the underbrush. The dog was obviously scared, but seemed too tired, or too sick, to run.
“Hey, little guy… what are you doing in there?” Henry asked the dog in a soft, soothing voice.
Teeny hung back, and stayed very still and quiet, as if trying not to startle the little brown dog.
Henry slowly extended his hand, palm down, as Lana had taught him, and let the little dog sniff it.
“It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you,” Henry said in a soft voice.
The little dog took a small, hesitant step toward Henry. “C’mon, it’s alright,” Henry encouraged the dog.
The little dog slowly emerged from the thicket, and allowed Henry to stroke her brown curly fur. She was wearing a collar, but no dog tags.
“C’mon, I’ll take you somewhere safe,” Henry promised. Henry picked Teeny up and gently tucked the tiny dog in his satchel. He then clipped Teeny’s leash onto the little brown dog’s collar.
As he began walking back to All Paws Animal Shelter, Henry noticed that the little brown dog was limping. Although she was a smaller dog, Henry could see she would be too big to fit in his satchel.
Henry decided that he should carry her. She seemed frightened when Henry first picked her up, but she relaxed after a few moments, and soon seemed to enjoy being held by the boy. As he walked back to the animal shelter, Henry wondered about the little brown dog. Where had she come from? What was she hiding from? Why was she limping?
About halfway to the shelter, the little dog started to struggle, trying to get down. Henry placed her on the sidewalk, where she promptly threw up.
“Oh, you’re sick... you poor thing,” Henry said. He picked the little dog back up and began walking faster. He hoped Ryan would still be there when he got back.
Chapter 13
When Stan arrived at the Nickelson Estate, he followed a servant through the stately mansion to the room where Rich Nickelson waited. He was a bald, portly man with a bushy mustache.
The room was filled with hundreds of trays, each containing dozens of rare and valuable coins.
“Welcome to my playground,” the eccentric billionaire said, waving his hand in an expansive gesture.
Rich Nickelson’s passion for coin collecting had become an obsession. He had spent years amassing the coins displayed in this room. The more unusual the coin, the more Rich Nickelson wanted to possess it.
When archaeologists discovered three ancient gold coins, believed to be the rarest currency in existence, Rich Nickelson knew he just had to have them.
He began visiting the Museum of Human History, where the coins were displayed in a glass case, and spent hours just staring at them.
After spending so much time at the Museum, Rich Nickelson had gotten to know Stan, one of the museum guards. Together, they hatched an elaborate scheme to steal the priceless coins.
“Is everything going according to our plan?” the wealthy coin collector asked.
“Almost,” Stan answered. “I hired a smuggler to transport the coins. Now that I am a dead man, traveling has proved more difficult than I expected.”
Rich Nickelson frowned. “Can this smuggler be trusted?” he asked.
“He came highly recommended; he is renowned for doing whatever it takes to get the job done.” Stan paused. “There will, of course, be an additional charge for his services.”
Rich Nickelson grunted. “How much more?” he asked.
“Ten thousand,” Stan replied.
“Ten thousand dollars, on top of what I’m already paying you?” Mr. Nickelson shouted.
“Well, sir… after all we’ve done to get the coins, I figured it would be worth it to you, to insure their safe transport,” Stan explained.
“Well… I guess you’re right,” the eager collector conceded. “When will they arrive?”
“They arrived today, but the coins were transported rather… unconventionally. It will take some time to get them out of the, um… packaging.” Stan shifted awkwardly.
“I don’t care how they got here. Just get me those coins,” Rich Nickelson said. He walked to the center of the room, where an elegant podium stood. It was topped with a velvet-lined display case, bearing three circular indentations.
“They will be the crowning jewels of my collection…” he said dreamily, “the pinnacle of my life’s work. My patience wears thin… I cannot wait much longer.” The wealthy man stared at the empty case.
“You can go now.” He waved his hand dismissively without looking up.
Stan quietly left the room.
Rich Nickelson stood at the podium.
Soon… he thought, as he lovingly traced the round, empty hollows with his finger.
Chapter 14
Henry arms were tired by the time he arrived back at All Paws animal shelter. He was relieved to discover that Ryan had not left yet. He carried the dog to the ramshackle clinic and placed her on the table so Ryan could examine her. Henry explained how Teeny had found her, and that she was limping and vomiting. Teeny poked his head out of the satchel, and touched noses with the little brown dog.
“So what happened to you, little girl?” Ryan asked the dog as he looked her over.
When Ryan paused to look inside his medical bag, Zena took the opportunity to sniff the little dog all over; her nose lingered on her injured paws and her abdomen.
“There are n-n-no tags on her collar. You say you found her hiding in a b-b-bush, Henry?” Lana asked.
Henry nodded. “Her name is Grace,” he sai
d.
“How d-d-do you know?” Lana asked.
Henry shrugged. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.
“Well, Grace has obviously been running a long time, and over some rough terrain,” Ryan said, looking at the pads of her feet. He took a pair of tweezers and pulled a shard of glass from one of her paws.
Grace whimpered, but didn’t try to bite or pull away. She seemed to understand that they were trying to help her. Ryan vaccinated the little dog and Lana offered her some food and water. Although she drank thirstily, she refused to eat.
Seeing this, Ryan frowned. He could feel how skinny the dog was under her curly brown fur, and had assumed she would be very hungry. He examined her again, gently pressing different places on her abdomen with one hand. When he reached a certain spot, Grace yelped with pain.
“I think there’s more going on here than meets the eye,” said Ryan. He frowned again, looking around the shabby clinic. He wished he had access to the advanced medical equipment he and his brother were used to using in their state-of-the-art animal hospital in California.
The shelter’s tiny clinic had been defunct for many years, for lack of a veterinarian willing to work there. The shelter barely had enough money to feed the animals; it certainly couldn’t afford to employ a full-time vet.
“Well, we’ve done what we can for her, for now. We’ll see how she is tomorrow and take it from there,” Ryan told Lana. He picked up his medical bag.
Lana put down a bowl of water and a blanket for Grace. Henry phoned his mother to explain why he was running late.
“I’ll come back and visit you tomorrow… I promise,” Henry whispered to the little dog. Grace gave Henry’s hand a shy little lick as he petted her goodbye.
Lana nodded. “C-c-come on, Zena; t-time t-to go home.”
Zena walked to Lana and pushed her warm snout into her hand, which was her way of saying goodbye, then walked back to sit beside Grace.
“You want t-t-to stay here with Grace?” she asked.
Zena swished her tail.
“Alright, I’ll see you in the m-m-morning,” Lana said to the trusty old dog.
Lana locked up the shelter and they left for the night.
It was getting late, and Lana insisted she give everyone a ride home. She dropped off Henry first. He seemed anxious to get home, even though he’d called his mom to tell her he’d be late.