Winter Rose

V. Missing Memories

Panting hard, I made my way along the fence, my ears folded back, tail between my legs. Where was Winter? I had no idea what I was running away from. I'd just felt something wrong—very wrong.

I found her standing inside the fence brushing the tangles out of an old gray horse's mane. She seemed preoccupied,  oblivious as I  raced towards her. The sight of her calmed my nerves,  I was able to breathe again, my gait slacking.

The horse, Old Earl, was the oldest of the refuge horses. He had an air of royalty about him, despite his slight limp, and blind right eye. His ears bent forward as I approached and he snorted. Do you bite, little dog?

An understandable question considering he'd endured years of Barnabas's relentless tormenting.

No I don't bite, I assured him, coming to a halt near the fence. My tongue hung limply out my mouth as I worked to still my racing heart.

Satisfied now that I was near Winter, I settled down in the soft grass and let the warmth of the sun spread on me, gathering my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Sheldon leave the barn with a can of beer in one hand,  a manure shovel in the other. I breathed a sigh of relief when he headed the opposite direction, didn't want whatever happened in there to happen again.

Concentrating hard on my past, I tried to dig up as many memories as I could to give me some kind of direction. I'd had several chores handed to me when I started rooming at Rose Family Animal Refuge. Among them was shoveling manure from the barn stalls and fields—not one of my fondest memories.

I do not like the big dog who bites. Old Earl continued, bringing me out of my thoughts.

He stomped his hoof, creating a loud thud and a cloud of dust. I sneezed violently for several minutes.

I like this girl who brushes me. This brushing is much better than biting.

I sighed. Yes, I bet it is.

The lack of intelligent conversation was wearing thin. But, I suppose it could be worse. There could have been no one to talk to at all—or I could have been dead—permanently.

My eyelids grew heavy and before I knew it, I'd drifted off to sleep. It surprised me how easy it was to sleep as a dog—when evil things weren't peering in the window.

I awoke to a new scent, and the sound of footsteps. Winter's brother Lance was trudging up the hill with none other than José, my long lost friend from years ago. Barnabas followed close at their heels, his graying head turned in our direction, eyes locked on Old Earl.

Don't move or I'll bite you, Barnabas projected.

Old Earl whinnied and shook his head, knocking the brush out of Winter's hand.

"Earl, what is your prob..." She stopped when she noticed Barnabas and the boys coming.

Bad dog, bad biting dog! Earl's good eye widened and he pounded his front legs on the ground, stirring up the dust around him once again.

"Calm down Earl," Winter soothed, stroking his gray speckled neck. " I won't let Barnabas chase you."

"Hey Winter, long time no see." José hoisted himself up on the fence and straddled it.

I cringed. José had always been overbearing.  Probably to compensate for his awkward looks. He was built like a wrestler, but his round baby face and smooth, hairless skin mismatched his body. I couldn't remember if his face had ever grown into that body of his.