Gift of Life

The boy hurried up the busy city street, the puppy trotting along behind him. He tugged on the rough rope, which was tied to a chain padlocked around the dog’s neck, to get the Pitbull pup to stop sniffing at a small daisy pushing up between cracks in the concrete. “Come on, Moo-ey, we don’t have time to smell the flowers!” his little hands gripped the rope tighter as he pulled. The black-and-white splotchy dog finally left the small plant and rushed to the boy, quickly licking the kid’s nose. The boy held back a laugh and quickly crossed the street with the last of the pedestrians. He knew he had to hurry; it wouldn’t be long before his foster parents were home from their night out. His siblings would cover for him, but the longer he was gone the more trouble they would get in. The boy wasn’t sure if his plan was a good one, but he didn’t care.

He had made the plan the night before, after finishing his chore of feeding the dogs in the basement. He was scared of most of them, but the pups from the most recent litter were so cute that he had lingered to play with them. He had noticed Moo-ey hanging back from the food and not wrestling with the others, smaller and weaker than her bigger siblings. She was clearly a runt, and the boy knew she wouldn’t survive long fighting against the other dogs. He had latched the crate the puppies were in but deliberately left it unlocked and had also not locked the basement door when he left. That night, as soon as his foster parents left the house, he had run down to the basement and smuggled Moo-ey out of the house.

              Now, he listened impatiently to the televisions in the electronics store window while he watched for a chance to cross the next street. They were all on the morning news, the same reporter copied across ten or so screens.

“…other news, two men with ties to the Sussuri Crime Family have been found dead. With the family’s trial scheduled to begin next week, some say that a former enforcer is taking revenge for the death of his brother. If you have any information…” the light changed, and the boy hurried across the crosswalk with Moo-ey in tow. The pair hustled pass beggars, well-dressed businesspeople, and loud tourists, finally arriving at the park and looking around excitedly. Now, he just had to find someone with a dog that looked nice and who would want to take care of Moo-ey.

The boy frowned as he peered about; there were only a few people in the park and most of them were elderly. “Maybe the middle of the week wasn’t the best time to do this,” he muttered to Moo-ey, who cocked her head up at him and wagged her tail emphatically. “Maybe one of these old guys will want you,” the boy struggled to move towards two older men playing chess as Moo-ey tugged him the opposite way, wanting to run around on the grass.

“You heard about ’em drug dealers?” The man to the boy’s left asked his opponent.

“I heard of ’em, strangled to death.” The old man to the right responded, not lifting his finger from the pawn which he had just moved, before gripping the piece and replacing it.

"Take a mighty strong man to strangle two people.” The first responded, seemingly in no hurry for his adversary to make his move.

“Excuse me?” the boy finally interrupted. The two wrinkled faces turned towards him. They both had wispy, white eyebrows and shrubs of ear hair pushing out from either side of their heads.

They squinted at him through thick glasses. “We’re listening,” they said, practically in unison.

“I was wondering if you guys would like to take care of a puppy,” the boy tried to pull the dog closer, which was on the very edge of its leash, sniffing at a small hole in the grass.

“No, boy,” the old man to the left responded. “They won’t allow them in our buildings, but I bet you can find a home for it if you go to the hardware store.”

“Sure, there are always people there with kittens and puppies.” The second man responded, having finally moved the pawn back to the same position and removing his finger.

“Thanks!” the boy shouted and took off running. The puppy bolted after him, its tongue lolling from its mouth and soon overtaking the boy, dragging him along as they ran.

Out of breath and both panting hard, the boy and his puppy arrived at the hardware store. He looked around, watching people loading up trucks and cars. He wanted someone kind, but also who looked like they would protect the dog. His eyes rested on a man he thought was about fifty. He had a scruffy beard and more wrinkles from smiling than frowning. “Excuse me, sir!” the boy called as he jogged up to the man, Moo-ey running behind him.

The man glanced over his shoulder but didn’t stop loading his vehicle, an all-black SUV. He clearly did construction or something similar; he was wearing old jeans and work boots, and had some bruises and scratches around his thick forearms.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like a dog?” The boy picked up Moo-ey, holding her up under her front legs so the man could get a close look at her. “She is really friendly and smart,” the boy chimed as the man turned properly to face them this time.

“I can’t,” the man responded gruffly, moving past the boy to get into his SUV.

“Please, sir, she can’t go back. They will hurt her,” the boy was holding back a sniffle as he followed the man to the driver’s side of the car. “I can’t just leave her to be killed.”

“I don’t live in the city, kid, you wouldn’t be able to visit her,” the man began. He knew it was a poor excuse, but he was caught off-guard by the boy’s words. He had also been someone’s guardian, but he had abandoned them and now they were dead.

“That's fine. In fact, it's better! 'Cause she won’t be found,” the boy responded excitedly, the dog’s tail now bouncing off his forehead as he held her up closer to the man.

The man was well acquainted with the local dog fighting clubs and knew many of the gangs who controlled them. He and his brother had gotten their start there, as bet boys who collected the crowds’ wages. The man wasn’t sure what it was, perhaps his shared beginnings with this boy or perhaps that this boy was doing what the man should have done a long time ago. He reached out and took Moo-ey. Her tail wagged rapidly, and she licked his face excitedly. He smiled for a moment, almost laughed but then stopped. “Kid I can’t…” he looked around. “Come on, kid!” he yelled out, but the boy had run off, leaving him with the dog.

“It’s how I would have done it,” the man huffed. He looked over Moo-ey, who licked his face again, faster than he could dodge the wet appendage. “Well, let’s get you a proper collar and leash, then. I guess some food as well,” the man put her down in the passenger seat and buckled her in.

Many years later, the man sat out on his porch, his old, black-and-white Pitbull lying next to his rocker. He read the paper aloud to her, as he did every morning. “Seems here that the police finally captured the last Don of the Sussurri Family.” The man looked down to the dog. “If I didn’t have to take care of you, he wouldn’t still be alive.” The dog looked up at him and wagged her tail happily, stretching out on the wooden boards. “Eh, perhaps it was better this way. Here is some news you will be interested in, girl. This big-time lawyer is prosecuting all the dog fighting rings round the city.” The man leaned back, enjoying the gentle spring weather holding the paper out so the dog could see the picture of the prosecutor. “About time something got done about those,” he mused as the dog licked the page and barked happily at a familiar face.