A CHRISTMAS PUPPY
The most active present under the tree was a small, black puppy, rescued from the Animal Shelter. Laura and Sammy were surprised and delighted. Everyone was having a wonderful time with the new puppy - until Laura and Sammy started arguing about what to name it.
"I want to call it Blackie," said Sammy, "because it's black."
"But it isn't all black," said Laura. "See, it has two brown spots in front, right there."
"So I suppose you want to call it Brown Spots."
"No, just Spot."
"Well, I don't like Spot."
"I don't like Blackie."
"I don't like Spot."
"Mom, why is Sammy always so difficult?" Laura was into three-syllable words, dif fi cult.
Mom decided, "I know what we'll do. We'll let Grandpa choose the name."
They took the puppy over to the rocking chair and put it in Grandpa's lap. And they waited. Slowly, Grandpa picked up the puppy to eye level and looked into its face for a long time. Finally, he said, "Scout."
Now Grandpa wasn't too concerned about whether this was a boy-type puppy dog or a girl-type puppy dog. If he had been, he might have chosen a different name. But there it was: Scout. And Scout it stayed.
Everyone enjoyed playing with Scout. Grandpa would take Scout for a walk during school time and in the afternoon the children would run with Scout.
By summer, Scout was almost full grown, about twenty pounds.
One summer day, they decided to drive out to the lake and, of course, they took Scout. They hiked on trails near the lake and then they decided to have dinner at a marina restaurant. They told Scout to wait beside the car until they came back. This was a mistake.
Scout waited patiently for a while. Then there was a rustling noise in the woods. Maybe it was a rabbit. Maybe it was a squirrel. Maybe it was another puppy dog. Scout looked towards the woods. Then she looked back at the restaurant. She waited. Then she heard the noise again and she raced off into the woods.
When the family came back from dinner - no Scout. They looked. They called. They walked all around. Still no Scout.
Dad said, "We can't stay much longer. It'll be way past your bedtime."
Sammy said, "Leave me here. I'll find Scout and you can pick me up in the morning."
"We can't do that," said Mom, "but we'll all come back in the morning and find her."
"What will happen to her out there all alone?" asked Laura.
"Don't worry," Grandpa said. "Scout's a tough little dog."
They came back the next morning, but still no Scout. They looked all around and called. And the next day, too. And the day after that. No Scout. And then they came less often.
And finally they stopped coming. Then school started and they got busy again. Laura was on a soccer team and Sammy had viola lessons.
Thanksgiving time came. Dad cooked a traditional dinner with all the trimmings and Mom carved the turkey. Everybody had enough, even more than enough. Mom got up to carve for seconds.
"Why, Grandpa," she said, "you've scarcely eaten a thing."
Dad said, "I made that mashed turnip just for you and you haven't touched it."
Then Laura said, "Grandpa? Grandpa's not even blinking!"
They called 911. An ambulance came to the house. Soon, Grandpa was in the hospital. Later, he was at a larger hospital, where there was a stroke rehabilitation unit. Some things he had to learn all over again. In a week, he could say yes and no. In two weeks, he could stand up, with a little help. In four weeks, he knew the entire alphabet. The doctors were hopeful about his recovery, except for one thing. He didn't seem to recognize anybody. Laura and Sammy would talk to him about things he should remember, his room, his rocking chair, even Scout, but he never gave any sign he knew who they were or what they were talking about. Except once, as they were leaving, Laura looked back and saw a tear roll down Grandpa's face. Mostly, he just sat in his wheelchair and stared, and nobody else knew what Grandpa was thinking.
********
That noise Scout heard in the woods wasn't a rabbit. It wasn't a squirrel. It wasn't another puppy dog. It was a skunk. Scout ran up to the skunk but the skunk just ran off farther into the woods. Scout ran up to it again and again it ran away. Scout chased after it for a while and then stopped and the skunk went on farther into the woods. By this time, it had gotten dark and Scout did what she always did at night. She curled up and went to sleep.
In the morning, she went back to the marina and looked for the car and the family. After a while, she wandered back into the woods again, lonely and hungry. She saw an opossum and ran up to play with it, but the opossum opened its mouth wide to show off its teeth. And nice teeth they were, too, small but very sharp, with no cavities, and Scout decided not to play with the opossum.
Every day she went back to look for the car and the family. And she was always hungry. She got weaker and weaker and roamed farther and farther from the lake, getting scratched by thorns, looking for anything to eat. She nearly collapsed from exhaustion and hunger.
But she was a tough little dog and somehow she got herself up and got back to the lake and drank some water and licked her scratches and even found some food, some garbage the raccoons hadn't spotted yet. And slowly, she recovered some health.
Another summer day, another family was out walking near the lake. This family had two girls, Michiko and Keiko. As they walked along a trail, they saw a small, black dog limping toward them, wagging its tail.
"What a nice dog," said Michiko. "Can we keep it?"
"No," said Mr. Nakashima.
"Wherever would we put it?" said Mrs. Nakashima.
"It can go in my room," said Michiko.
"Your room is so full of teddy bears, there's no place for a dog," said Keiko. "It will go in my room."
"Well, your room is just as full of dolls."
"Well, there is that fence in the back yard," said Mrs. Nakashima.
"Oh, please, Daddy-san," said Michiko.
"Pulllllllllease, Mommy-san," said Keiko.
"Oh, stop whining," said both parents. "We'll think about it."
Ten minutes later the dog was in the car and Mr. Nakashima was saying, "I'm not sure this is a good idea. This may not work. Don't get your hopes up. This is just a test."
They took the dog to a vet. It had ticks, fleas, and mange. Some of the scratches were infected. Somewhere in the woods, it had lost its collar, so the vet had to give it shots -- rabies, kennel cough, and the others. The worst of the scratches were cut open, cleaned and sutured. And all through this ordeal, the dog never lost its disposition. Even the vet remarked, "What a good-natured dog."
With medicine, good food, and TLC, the dog slowly recovered. But they didn't know what to call it.
"I have a name," said Keiko. "We could call it Inu. That's Japanese for dog."
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Nakashima. "But it's an American dog. If you're going to do that, why not just call it Dog." Nothing else got suggested, so they started calling it Dog, until a better name came along.
One day a neighbor told them about a hospital pet visitation program, "They're looking for friendly dogs. Maybe yours would be just right."
Mrs. Nakashima did some checking and found out the dog would have to pass two tests. First, there was the health test. By now, the dog was nearly recovered and passed the test. Then there was the "personality" test. They took the dog into strange places with strange people and strange smells and strange noises to see if it would become nervous. But the dog was calm and friendly and passed this test, too, and eventually became a registered hospital visitation pet.
And so it happened that one fall day, a nurse, a woman, and a dog came into the room where Grandpa sat, staring out the window.
"Remember, I told you about the dog visits?" said the nurse. "Do you still want to see the dog?"
There was no response from Grandpa. He kept on staring.
"Maybe we should try a different room now. Maybe another time."
"All right," said Mrs. Nakashima. And they turned to go. "But look, I've never seen Dog so intent before."
And the dog was frozen, statue-like, staring at Grandpa. Then, suddenly, the dog rushed over to the wheelchair and put its head in Grandpa's lap.
Grandpa's hand moved. Slowly, he put his hand on the dog's head. Grandpa's head moved. He looked down at the dog. And Grandpa spoke, for the first time in weeks. Very slowly and softly, he said, "Scout, where have you been?"
The most active present under the tree was a small, black puppy, rescued from the Animal Shelter. Laura and Sammy were surprised and delighted. Everyone was having a wonderful time with the new puppy - until Laura and Sammy started arguing about what to name it.
"I want to call it Blackie," said Sammy, "because it's black."
"But it isn't all black," said Laura. "See, it has two brown spots in front, right there."
"So I suppose you want to call it Brown Spots."
"No, just Spot."
"Well, I don't like Spot."
"I don't like Blackie."
"I don't like Spot."
"Mom, why is Sammy always so difficult?" Laura was into three-syllable words, dif fi cult.
Mom decided, "I know what we'll do. We'll let Grandpa choose the name."
They took the puppy over to the rocking chair and put it in Grandpa's lap. And they waited. Slowly, Grandpa picked up the puppy to eye level and looked into its face for a long time. Finally, he said, "Scout."
Now Grandpa wasn't too concerned about whether this was a boy-type puppy dog or a girl-type puppy dog. If he had been, he might have chosen a different name. But there it was: Scout. And Scout it stayed.
Everyone enjoyed playing with Scout. Grandpa would take Scout for a walk during school time and in the afternoon the children would run with Scout.
By summer, Scout was almost full grown, about twenty pounds.
One summer day, they decided to drive out to the lake and, of course, they took Scout. They hiked on trails near the lake and then they decided to have dinner at a marina restaurant. They told Scout to wait beside the car until they came back. This was a mistake.
Scout waited patiently for a while. Then there was a rustling noise in the woods. Maybe it was a rabbit. Maybe it was a squirrel. Maybe it was another puppy dog. Scout looked towards the woods. Then she looked back at the restaurant. She waited. Then she heard the noise again and she raced off into the woods.
When the family came back from dinner - no Scout. They looked. They called. They walked all around. Still no Scout.
Dad said, "We can't stay much longer. It'll be way past your bedtime."
Sammy said, "Leave me here. I'll find Scout and you can pick me up in the morning."
"We can't do that," said Mom, "but we'll all come back in the morning and find her."
"What will happen to her out there all alone?" asked Laura.
"Don't worry," Grandpa said. "Scout's a tough little dog."
They came back the next morning, but still no Scout. They looked all around and called. And the next day, too. And the day after that. No Scout. And then they came less often.
And finally they stopped coming. Then school started and they got busy again. Laura was on a soccer team and Sammy had viola lessons.
Thanksgiving time came. Dad cooked a traditional dinner with all the trimmings and Mom carved the turkey. Everybody had enough, even more than enough. Mom got up to carve for seconds.
"Why, Grandpa," she said, "you've scarcely eaten a thing."
Dad said, "I made that mashed turnip just for you and you haven't touched it."
Then Laura said, "Grandpa? Grandpa's not even blinking!"
They called 911. An ambulance came to the house. Soon, Grandpa was in the hospital. Later, he was at a larger hospital, where there was a stroke rehabilitation unit. Some things he had to learn all over again. In a week, he could say yes and no. In two weeks, he could stand up, with a little help. In four weeks, he knew the entire alphabet. The doctors were hopeful about his recovery, except for one thing. He didn't seem to recognize anybody. Laura and Sammy would talk to him about things he should remember, his room, his rocking chair, even Scout, but he never gave any sign he knew who they were or what they were talking about. Except once, as they were leaving, Laura looked back and saw a tear roll down Grandpa's face. Mostly, he just sat in his wheelchair and stared, and nobody else knew what Grandpa was thinking.
********
That noise Scout heard in the woods wasn't a rabbit. It wasn't a squirrel. It wasn't another puppy dog. It was a skunk. Scout ran up to the skunk but the skunk just ran off farther into the woods. Scout ran up to it again and again it ran away. Scout chased after it for a while and then stopped and the skunk went on farther into the woods. By this time, it had gotten dark and Scout did what she always did at night. She curled up and went to sleep.
In the morning, she went back to the marina and looked for the car and the family. After a while, she wandered back into the woods again, lonely and hungry. She saw an opossum and ran up to play with it, but the opossum opened its mouth wide to show off its teeth. And nice teeth they were, too, small but very sharp, with no cavities, and Scout decided not to play with the opossum.
Every day she went back to look for the car and the family. And she was always hungry. She got weaker and weaker and roamed farther and farther from the lake, getting scratched by thorns, looking for anything to eat. She nearly collapsed from exhaustion and hunger.
But she was a tough little dog and somehow she got herself up and got back to the lake and drank some water and licked her scratches and even found some food, some garbage the raccoons hadn't spotted yet. And slowly, she recovered some health.
Another summer day, another family was out walking near the lake. This family had two girls, Michiko and Keiko. As they walked along a trail, they saw a small, black dog limping toward them, wagging its tail.
"What a nice dog," said Michiko. "Can we keep it?"
"No," said Mr. Nakashima.
"Wherever would we put it?" said Mrs. Nakashima.
"It can go in my room," said Michiko.
"Your room is so full of teddy bears, there's no place for a dog," said Keiko. "It will go in my room."
"Well, your room is just as full of dolls."
"Well, there is that fence in the back yard," said Mrs. Nakashima.
"Oh, please, Daddy-san," said Michiko.
"Pulllllllllease, Mommy-san," said Keiko.
"Oh, stop whining," said both parents. "We'll think about it."
Ten minutes later the dog was in the car and Mr. Nakashima was saying, "I'm not sure this is a good idea. This may not work. Don't get your hopes up. This is just a test."
They took the dog to a vet. It had ticks, fleas, and mange. Some of the scratches were infected. Somewhere in the woods, it had lost its collar, so the vet had to give it shots -- rabies, kennel cough, and the others. The worst of the scratches were cut open, cleaned and sutured. And all through this ordeal, the dog never lost its disposition. Even the vet remarked, "What a good-natured dog."
With medicine, good food, and TLC, the dog slowly recovered. But they didn't know what to call it.
"I have a name," said Keiko. "We could call it Inu. That's Japanese for dog."
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Nakashima. "But it's an American dog. If you're going to do that, why not just call it Dog." Nothing else got suggested, so they started calling it Dog, until a better name came along.
One day a neighbor told them about a hospital pet visitation program, "They're looking for friendly dogs. Maybe yours would be just right."
Mrs. Nakashima did some checking and found out the dog would have to pass two tests. First, there was the health test. By now, the dog was nearly recovered and passed the test. Then there was the "personality" test. They took the dog into strange places with strange people and strange smells and strange noises to see if it would become nervous. But the dog was calm and friendly and passed this test, too, and eventually became a registered hospital visitation pet.
And so it happened that one fall day, a nurse, a woman, and a dog came into the room where Grandpa sat, staring out the window.
"Remember, I told you about the dog visits?" said the nurse. "Do you still want to see the dog?"
There was no response from Grandpa. He kept on staring.
"Maybe we should try a different room now. Maybe another time."
"All right," said Mrs. Nakashima. And they turned to go. "But look, I've never seen Dog so intent before."
And the dog was frozen, statue-like, staring at Grandpa. Then, suddenly, the dog rushed over to the wheelchair and put its head in Grandpa's lap.
Grandpa's hand moved. Slowly, he put his hand on the dog's head. Grandpa's head moved. He looked down at the dog. And Grandpa spoke, for the first time in weeks. Very slowly and softly, he said, "Scout, where have you been?"