Joe Larson

Wendell sat up, gasping desperately for breath, his lungs suddenly thankful for the cool caress of life-sustaining air. He inhaled quickly several times before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy there, Wendell," said a kind voice. "You're okay now."

The old man opened his eyes and found a pair of deep brown gazing at him. Wendell automatically tried to judge the man's age, but could get no closer than "over 30, but younger than I am". Wendell looked around quickly, noting several other concerned faces studying him closely, then snapped his attention back to the face in front of him.

"The dog-"

"-is okay," the man finished for him.

Wendell looked around again, trying to get his bearings. The experience had left him badly shaken, and everything more than a few feet away was fuzzy. He was in bed. Around him, he could see faces, but not clearly enough to recognize anyone. Beyond the faces, he could make out no distinct details.

"Wendell," the voice said again, pulling the old man's attention back. "There's no easy way to tell you this, and I don't believe in beating around the bush."

Wendell noticed the man had an accent, but couldn't place it.

"You died, Wendell."

"Died?" Wendell tried to get to his feet, but a hand on his shoulder restrained him.

"It can be quite a shock," the other man explained.

Wendell tried again to examine his surroundings. "This is heaven?" He said it like he didn't believe it.

The other man didn't exactly chuckle. "Consider it more like an anteroom."

Wendell gestured. "All these people?"

"Friends."

Wendell narrowed his eyes at the man. "And you? You're..."

This time the man did laugh.

"No. Just another friend. You can call me Lupe."

Wendell blinked a couple of times, unsure. "Dead?" he said again.

"Hmm." The man paused at him. "I know, it's hard to believe. Look, how do you feel?"

"Pretty darn good for being dead," Wendell said with a wry look. It was true, in fact. All the little aches and pains were gone, even in his lower back, which had hurt for twenty years. "Nice drugs."

"No drugs," the younger man explained.

Wendell looked at the other with a dubious expression. "Where are the angels, then? St. Peter? Mom and Dad? God?"

The other man smiled. "Here, we're all angels." He paused. "Well, those who wish to be. St. Peter only deals with the difficult cases -- and you're definitely not one of those. And you can see the others you seek in a bit. Something important happened, and we asked God if we could see you first."

"I see." Wendell pursed his lips. "I couldn't get a grip on the ice."

"I know," the man replied kindly. "You were very brave. That's why we're all here." He gestured.

"I don't understand," Wendell said. "I don't know who any of you are."

"I know. And if I just told you, you wouldn't believe me. So I'll show you."

The man gestured, and for Wendell, reality faded.

---

"He's cute, Wendell," Sue told him. "What should we call him?"

Wendell looked at his wife, noticing the lines from her incessant smile crinkling around her eyes. She hated those lines, but Wendell loved them, just as he loved every inch of her.

Wendell hefted the black lab puppy, staring at him nose-to-nose. He paused, then smiled. "How does Spot sound?"

Sue's smile grew broader. "He's not a Dalmatian."

Wendell just continued to smile, turning the puppy this way and that to get a better look. In return, the dog gave Wendell's nose a big slurp.

Sue laughed. "Spot it is."

The scene dissolved and Wendell watched as Spot, still awkward from a recent doggy adolescent growth spurt, tripped over a leaf. The dog sat down and looked around with a bewildered, "How did that happen" look. Wendell laughed, then walked over to the dog and ruffled his fur.

"I hate it when I do that, too," he told the dog kindly.

Spot gave Wendell a doggy smile, licked his hand, then took off down the trail, chasing more leaves and sniffing everything in sight.

The scene dissolved again, and Wendell was in the lake -- French Lake where his friend Rolf had a cabin.

"Come on, boy," Sue said laughingly, patting the water and trying to coax the dog off the dock. "Dogs love water."

Spot whined and backed up a half step. He ducked his head a couple of times, obviously thinking about jumping into the water, then whined some more.

Wendell simply smiled and waded to the dock. "Hey boy," he said quietly, holding out a hand. Spot leaned forward so Wendell could scratch his ears. "Now Spot," Wendell explained. "You're not going to like this next part, but believe me, you'll thank me for it in the end."

Wendell grabbed the dog's collar. Toenails scratching against the wood of the dock, Spot tried frantically to back away but was quickly hoisted into Wendell's arms. Without further ado, Wendell lowered the dog into the water-

Dissolve.

"Come ON, Spot! Get out of the water. It's time to go!"

Dissolve.

Several scenes appeared for Wendell, briefly, fleeting. Walks in the woods, outtings to the lake, sitting quietly at home in front of a fire...

Then....

Spot, older, hearing a noise at the front window, struggling to rise. Wendell helping him silently. Watching the dog hobble to the window, staring out but unable to see the O'Connell boy walking home from school. Wendell turned to his wife, sad eyes meeting sad eyes.

"He's only seven years old," Sue said quietly.

"I know. He'll be eight at the end of the summer." Wendell gazed at his dog, his eyes a mix of love and despair. "He's not ready to go yet."

Dissolve.

Wendell and Sue held each other, sobbing. Outside, a winter storm was brewing.

Dissolve.

Wendell's eyes were filled with tears. He tried to blink them away. Lupe looked at him kindly.

"He was a great dog," Wendell said, his voice cracking. "Why did you show me that?"

"Someone wants to say 'hello', Wendell," Lupe said. The man stepped aside to be replaced by another man.

"Hello, Wendell," the newcomer said, holding out his hand. Wendell took it automatically, confusion showing on his face.

"Thank you," the man said, still holding Wendell's hand.

"For what?" Wendell asked him.

"For everything," the man replied.

He released Wendell's hand, and there was a shimmering in the air. Wendell blinked, and when he could see again, the man was gone.

In his place was a black Labrador dog. Wendell took a double-take, but the dog was still there, mouth opened slightly in excitement, tail wagging furiously.

"Spot?"

The dog barked. Wendell recognized the voice.

"Spot!"

The dog jumped up and placed his front paws on the edge of the bed, then began to lick Wendell's face, cleaning away tears as fast as they appeared. Wendell tolerated this for a moment, laughing and crying at the same time, then threw his arms around his dog and buried his face in the dogs fur.

"Oh god, Spot! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more for you."

Spot pulled away, looking at Wendell for a moment before craning his neck around to stare at Lupe. After a moment, Lupe spoke. "He says he had a good life with you." Lupe paused. "He says 'thank you.' "

Spot turned back to Wendell, then gently nipped his hand.

"Hey!" Wendell said in surprise. "What was that for?"

Spot looked at Lupe for a second, then slurped Wendell's face.

"He says," Lupe translated, "'That's for not teaching me to swim sooner.'"

Wendell looked his dog for a moment, then laughed. "You sure did like the water after that."

"He still does," Lupe told Wendell. "It's hard to get him to come out of the lake."

"It always was," Wendell agreed.

"And always will be," Lupe said prophetically.

Wendell hugged his dog again, his fingers finding all the spots the dog loved to be scratched. Spot stood where he was, basking in the attention for a while, then pulled away. Wendell let him go, and the dog backed a few steps away, then sat down. Wendell started to rise from the bed, but Lupe quickly stepped forward.

"We're not done, Wendell. You can get up soon enough."

Wendell looked at Lupe, nodded, then lay back against the pillows.

The scene dissolved.

"Can I keep him, Dad?"

Wendell looked at Jeff as he held a squirming puppy of "mixed" background, according to the paperwork on the Humane Society cage the dog had come from. "Ask your mother."

Still carrying the dog, Jeff ran over to his mother, who was peering into the cages of kittens. "Mom! Dad says I can keep him if it's okay with you."

Sue gave Wendell The Look before turning to her son. She examined the dog critically. "We're here for a cat, Jeff. We all agreed we were getting a cat."

"I know, but dogs are lots cooler. They play catch, and bark at burglars, and they don't spit up hairballs on the kitchen counter."

"And they need to go outside twenty times a day, and get fed, and cleaned up after...." Sue pursed her lips. "Who is going to do all that?"

"I will," Jeff promised.

Dissolve.

"Jeff!" Sue yelled upstairs. "Have you fed Ringo?"

Dissolve.

Ringo's nose was pressed against the window. A car loudly announced its arrival in the driveway, then disgorged Jeff from the passenger seat. Ringo barked once, then ran to the front door and set his tail in motion.

Jeff flew in. Ringo sat down, as pretty as he could, then stood up again, tail wagging furiously.

"Hi, Mom!" Jeff yelled on his way to his room. "Guys and I are going out. I just need to grab my jacket."

"Your dog could use a walk," his mother said from the kitchen. "He's been waiting for you."

Ringo continued to wag his tail. Jeff didn't even look at him. "I'll take him tomorrow," he said, heading back to the front door. "I'll be home by 10."

"Jeff!" Sue said as the door slammed closed.

Dissolve.

"Wonderful dinner, Sue," Wendell said, pushing away from the table a little bit. He looked around. "Where's the dog?"

"Waiting for Jeff," Sue said in disgust.

Wendell looked at her for a moment, then nodded and got up and helped Sue clear a few plates, then grabbed the dog leash from its hook in the kitchen.

"Do you mind?" he asked her, indicating the rest of the dishes and waving the leash.

"Of course not," Sue said. She paused. "We should have gotten the cat. That poor dog..."

Wendell shrugged. "Ringo! Let's go get some exercise, boy."

Dissolve.

Wendell dialed his son's college phone number. "Jeff?" he said after a moment. He paused. "We're fine, Son. How are you?" Pause. "Good, good. Look, I have some bad news."

Dissolve.

Wendell opened his eyes, expecting to see Lupe. Instead he found himself face to face with a medium-sized dog of "mixed background."

"Heya, Ringo," he said quietly, ruffling the dog's fur. The dog grinned a doggy smile at him. "You were Jeff's dog, boy. What are you doing here?"

Lupe stepped forward as Ringo looked at him. "He wants to know who took him for walks."

"I did," Wendell admitted after a moment.

"Who bought him chew toys from the store?" Lupe asked.

"I did."

"Who yelled at him when he ate all the chocolate cake, then cleaned up the mess when it all came back up?"

Wendell laughed. "That would have been Sue."

Lupe laughed, too, then grew serious.

"Who cried when he died?"

Wendell's face grew serious, and he hugged the dog. "I did," he said, his voice muffled.

Dissolve.

"Oh Wendell," Sue said. "She's so sweet!" Sue held the puppy carefully, then sat down on the floor, setting the puppy down. The puppy wandered away for a moment, then turned around and attacked Sue's hand. Sue scolded her, then looked at Wendell. "But do we really want another dog?"

"She's a Springer Spaniel," Wendell explained.

"Wendell...."

Wendell looked at his wife. "What do you think we should call her?"

Sue regarded her husband, then smiled in resignation. She turned back to the puppy, who was busy chasing a piece of fluff across the floor. Sue tapped the floor with her fingernails, capturing the pup's attention. The dog came to her, and Sue picked the precious bundle up, examining it carefully.

"Ellie," she said simply. "I think we should call her Ellie."

Dissolve.

"You spoil that dog," Wendell said, stepping into the room. "Ellie, get off the bed."

The dog dropped her head firmly against the covers, trying to look at pitiful as she could.

"Aw, Honey," Sue said. "She's comfortable."

"Down, Ellie," Wendell said firmly.

Ellie gave him a resigned look, then crawled off the bed and curled up on the floor with a big sigh. Wendell clicked off the light and climbed in beside his wife. The two cuddled and murmured at each other for a while. Then, as usual, Sue fell asleep first.

The dog sighed.

Wendell sighed back, then quietly patted the bed. Ellie didn't need to be invited twice. "But you better not steal the covers," Wendell warned the dog quietly.

Dissolve.

Sue, Wendell, and Ellie walking around the neighborhood...

Dissolve.

Ellie napping on Sue's feet on a stormy spring night of books and needlework.

Dissolve.

As Wendell propped against the door with a bag of groceries in each hand, Ellie dashed out the door and ran across the street, barking at a neighborhood cat she had seen from the front window.

"Ellie!" Wendell yelled, setting the groceries down inside the house and heading back after her.

The dog stopped, then turned around and started back towards home. At the same time, a car, driving too fast, came around the corner. Wendell noticed the car, but the dog didn't.

"Ellie! Sit!"

Ellie paused, looked at Wendell, then dashed into the street.

Dissolve.

Wendell opened his eyes, expecting to see a Springer Spaniel staring at him., but there was no dog. He laid his head against his pillow.

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," he said, almost to himself.

A dog sighed from the floor next to the bed.

"Ellie?" Wendell said tentatively.

The sigh was repeated.

Wendell smiled a half smile, then patted the bed. The dog didn't need to be asked twice.

Wendell hugged the dog, then pulled away and looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Ellie looked at Wendell, then looked over her shoulder at Lupe, then back to Wendell.

"What she has to say, she wants to say herself," Lupe said.

The dog appeared to be concentrating. The air shimmered slightly, then grew still. The dog was still a dog.

She turned to Lupe. "I know it's hard," he told her softly. "But you can do it."

Ellie closed her eyes and sighed a third time. The air shimmered. Wendell watched as first there was a dog sitting on the bed next to him, then a young woman, then a dog. Finally, the human shape solidified. She took a heavy breath, then turned to Wendell.

She patted his hand. "You old softie," she told him. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?" Wendell asked her.

"I saw the car," she replied. She smiled softly. "But I had to go."

"Go? Why?"

"Someone else needed me," she explained. "And someone else needed you. Someone needed me far more than you and Sue did. And I needed to make room."

"Make room?"

Ellie nodded, wrinkled her forehead and frowned. "And I'm sorry," she said again. "This form is so hard for me."

The air wrinkled, and Ellie was a dog again. She curled up on the foot of the bed, her chin across Wendell's leg.

Dissolve.

"We're done with dogs, Patty," Wendell said into the phone.

"This dog needs you," came the voice over the phone.

"Why us?" Wendell asked her.

Dissolve.

Wendell knew time had flowed backwards. A cocker spaniel lies in the hot sun, tongue hanging out. Her water dish is tipped over, and the food bowl hasn't been filled since yesterday.

Dissolve.

"God damned dog!" A leg started to draw back.

Dissolve. Thankfully, the scene dissolved.

"Okay, Patty," Wendell said quietly. "You can bring her over."

Dissolve.

Gentle hands admonished the dog for biting. "Silk! No bite." Although the words are firm, there is no anger in them. Still, the dog starts to slink away.

Wendell stops her with his hands. She stiffens, then relaxes, resigned, expecting pain, torment. Instead, Wendell draws her gently into his arms and holds her, talking quietly.

Dissolve.

A full water dish.

Dissolve.

A soft voice.

Dissolve.

A warm fire.

Dissolve.

Wendell opened his eyes. Lupe was holding Silk, looking expectantly at Wendell. Wendell nodded, and Lupe set the small dog on the bed.

Silk looked at Wendell for a moment, then turned and nuzzled Ellie, who was still curled up on the bed, watching. Ellie returned the nuzzle, then looked at Wendell. Silk turned to Wendell as well, then stepped forward and let Wendell pull her into his arms.

Lupe spoke. "She doesn't talk much. But when she does, it's about you. And Sue."

Dissolve.

Wendell stopped his car. A German Shepherd was wandering down the divider on Fulbright Avenue. Wendell looked at the traffic, then got out of the car. He picked a break in the traffic, then ran across the two lanes to the divider. He looked at the dog again.

"Here boy." Wendell crouched down into a half kneel. The dog turned to look at him. "Here boy!" he called again. The dog ran up to him.

Dissolve.

A young boy's face was buried in the dog's neck. "Thank you," his mother said through red eyes.

Dissolve.

"Bad dog!" The man's hand raised again, swatting the dog, who yelped. "Bad dog!"

Wendell paused in his morning walk. "That won't help," he said quietly.

"What?" the man said, startled.

"That won't help. Hitting her. It won't help."

"Damned dog won't come when I call him."

"Would you come if you knew you were gonna get spanked?"

The man glowered at Wendell. "Mind your own business."

Wendell said nothing, but just sadly turned away to continue his walk. He got halfway past the next house when the man's voice spoke up from behind him. "What should I do?"

Dissolve.

The couple stood in front of the cages at the human society, their young child's face pressed against the wire, nose-to-nose with a Dalmation. "I want this dog, Mommy!" the child said.

Wendell stopped and watched the exchange, eavesdropping.

"What do you think, John?" the woman asked. "Can we have a dog in the apartment?"

"Sure we can," John replied. "Food and water in the kitchen, and we can walk him behind the garages."

Wendell sighed, looking around for a humane society worker to steer the couple away from this dog, this dog of all dogs. Of course, there were none in sight.

Shaking his head, he stepped forward. "I'm sorry to butt in," he told them. "But can I ask a question?"

The couple was startled, but the man was able to stammer out a "sure, go ahead."

"Do either of you like to run?"

"Run? No. Why do you ask?" the man replied.

Wendell pursed his lips, then looked at the dog.

"Well..." he said slowly. "Dalmations are... well, they kind of need to run. They're good dogs, mind you, but they tend to be high strung. If you take them running every day, they're great dogs. But penned up in an apartment.... I don't think he'll be happy."

"What do you suggest?" the woman asked him.

Wendell looked at them, then said bluntly, "A cat."

"I want a dog!" said the child indignantly.

Wendell sighed at the thought of spoiled children.

"Actually, so do I," said the women. "John's job... he's gone a lot. I don't feel safe."

"Oh," Wendell said. "I understand. Well then, a dog, but NOT a Dalmation." He thought about it. Gentle with children, make the woman safe, and low key. "Small apartment?"

"Oh, no," said the woman. "Two bedrooms, 1100 square feet."

"And we go away to my parent's a lot," said the man. "They live on a lake."

Wendell smiled. "A lab, then," he suggested. "Or a golden retriever. Yeah, they don't like to run too much, are great with kids, and love the water."

The man looked around quickly, seeing a number of labs and goldens in the pens. He held out his hand. "Thank you."

Wendell nodded, then turned to go. He didn't notice the athletic-looking man turn away from the cage holding a golden retriever and head to the Dalmatian.

Dissolve. Dissolve. Dissolve.

Wendell opened his eyes.

"You touched a lot of dogs in your life," Lupe said kindly. Wendell nodded.

"We're almost done here," Lupe went on.

"I haven't seen Sandy," Wendell said, smiling and looking around for his dog. A golden retriever. Wendell always loved golden retrievers, but this dog was special. This dog helped him get through the death of his wife.

Lupe smiled a half smile. "Sandy isn't here," he said.

Wendell's smile faltered, then faded completely.

"I have a story to tell you, Wendell."

Dissolve.

A man huddled in the cave. A fire was going to drive away the winter chill, and his family was sleeping in the back of the cave. Across the man's lap was a crude spear.

An animal howled. The man crept closer to the fire and peered into the gloom.

Dissolve.

The wolf shivered. Winter had arrived early. The wolf had been separated from his pack. His stomach growled, and he was limping badly. He couldn't hunt. The wolf knew he wouldn't see the spring.

Dissolve.

The man startled at a sound in the brush. There were still bears about, looking for homes. This cave might appear especially attractive.

"Please," the man pleaded with his gods. "Please help me protect my family."

Dissolve.

The wolf was starving. He smelled food. It was mixed with the man-smell, but the wolf was desperate. He crept closer to the cave.

Dissolve.

Lupe was looking at Wendell.

"I don't understand," Wendell admitted.

"The man prayed to his gods," Lupe explained. "And the wolf, to his." Lupe paused. "And the gods got together. The wolf god told the human god, 'My wolves can warn your people of bears and other preditors.'

"And the human god said, 'My people can feed your wolves, and keep them warm in the winter.'" Lupe smiled. "And thus, The Pact was born. No other creature on earth shares this relationship with man that dogs do. The dog is man's best friend. In exchange, man must help us take care of ourselves, keep us warm and fed. We protect the pack, and the pack protects us."

"Us?" asked Wendell.

The air shimmered, and where Lupe had been stood a wolf. A pause, and the air shimmered again, and Lupe reappeared.

Wendell nodded in understanding and a little awe.

"Over time, the pact has changed. Man has grown smarter. And dogs... well, dogs are still dogs. But the pact remains. We protect the pack, and the pack keeps us warm and fed."

Wendell smiled, then frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Lupe anticipated Wendell's next question.

"Sandy would love to be here," Lupe said. "But she's busy. She has a little boy who needs her very much."

Wendell nodded knowingly. "She would be good at that. Will I see her someday?"

It was Lupe's turn. "But Wendell, you just saw her. You gave your life to rescue her from the pond."

Tears began to build at the corner's of Wendell's eyes.

"It gets better, Wendell," Lupe explained. "She's going to have puppies." Lupe paused. Ellie and Silk were still on the bed next to Wendell, but they both jumped down, then assumed a perfect sit at the side of Wendell's bed. The room shuffled for a moment as all the other dogs adjusted their posture as well.

Lupe looked around for a moment, then turned back to Wendell. "We all salute you, Wendell. You did a wonderful thing today."

Lupe's image shimmered, and his image became that of a wolf again. He sat for a moment, gazing at Wendell, then stood up, moved closer, and offered his head. Wendell scratched Lupe's ears for a moment.

Lupe moved away, and one by one, each dog in the room came forward to offer their respect. But finally, a form approached that wasn’t a dog. Wendell looked up.

"Oh god! Sue!" Wendell burst from his bed and enveloped Sue in his arms. She hugged him back fiercely. This kissed, then hugged some more, murmuring into each other's ears.

"I've missed you so badly," Wendell told his wife.

"I know," she replied. "I've been watching. I love you, Wendell."

Wendell smiled. "I felt you sometimes. I think Sandy did too."

"I thought you might," Sue said. "And I know Sandy did. We'd talk sometimes."

Wendell hugged his wife tighter. "We're together forever now?"

Sue looked at Lupe. Lupe answered Wendell's question. "If you want to be." He paused. "But there's something else you've always wanted, isn't there?"

Wendell looked sharply at Lupe, not saying anything for a moment, then smiled. "I always felt part dog."

Lupe smiled back. "We don't make this offer very often, but you could be. A dog, that is.

Wendell looked at Sue. "But I've missed you. I want us to be together." Wendell's eyes watered a little, and Sue hugged him again.

Lupe's voice broke the silence. "I think Sue could go, too."

Sue and Wendell looked at each other, communicating without words the way a husband and wife often do. Together, they began to grin.

Lupe spoke once more. "Wendell, and Sue too, for all you've done, for all you've been, we all want to thank you."

The air shimmered, and the people clustered around Sue and Wendell slipped into their furrier forms. Lupe lifted his nose to the air and began a dog-happy howl, immediately joined by the remaining dogs.

For Wendell and Sue, the scene began to dissolve slowly. The last conscious thought was Lupe's voice reminding them, "Sandy is having puppies."

Dissolve.

The scene shifted. Two golden retriever puppies showed off for a young family. "I don't know if we should get the boy or the girl," said the father.

"Let's get both, Dad!" said their eldest daughter.

"Oh, I don't know about that," said the father.

Mother smiled mischievously. "Why not, honey?"

For a moment, the two puppies exchanged almost-human looks, seeming to communicate with each other. But this only lasted a moment before they were just two happy puppies going home with a good family.