Norman's Neighborhood

Eighteen

The late-spring morning was getting warm. Birds chirped cheerily from the many trees in the vicinity, and Norman began to pant as he jogged along the roadside. The sidewalk had come to an end at the city limits, and houses were farther apart. He felt lost; he didn't really know which way was home. He stopped, sniffing the light breeze for any hint of a familiar smell. There were plenty of odors, but none that smelled like his neighborhood. He decided to go back a little way and turn down a road that might lead back to his home.

His pace slowed for a while as he tried to reorient himself. A half-grown calico cat ran up, startling a "Wuff?" out of him. The sound, in turn, surprised the little cat - who jumped in the air, hissing. A skinny, angular woman, who had been sweeping the driveway of a small house, lifted her broom like a spear and charged toward Norman.
"Shoo! Get out of here!" the woman shouted, whacking at the unsuspecting dog. He leaped sideways, out of reach of her impromptu weapon.

Fleeing the unwarranted ire of the harsh-voiced woman, Norman departed hastily. He didn't understand her displeasure - he had done nothing other than pass by her yard - but, as in the encounter with Hansel, he wasn't going to stick around for more hostility. He bolted down the road until he could run no farther, gradually slowing to a dispirited trudge.

Moving slowly now, Norman looked for a safe place to rest. He turned down an unpaved dirt lane and veered onto the grassy verge as a dusty, dark blue truck rumbled past in a cloud of dust. He flopped down, exhausted, and was soon oblivious to his surroundings.

**********

"Is that the same dog we saw before?" Perry asked his little daughter. She sat up as tall as she could, looking across the cab and out the driver's side window.
"I can't see."
Perry slowed, then pulled over and stopped the truck.

"You stay here a minute; I'm going to see if the dog is all right. He's not moving." He stepped down and crossed the narrow lane, cautiously approaching the animal. The large gray dog still didn't move. Perry could see the slow rise and fall of the furry flanks; it appeared that he was sound asleep.

Being careful not to startle the animal, Perry went quietly up to him and began softly speaking,
"Are you all right, pup? What are you doing here? Did you get hit?"
There was no sign of an external wound, but there could be internal injury. The dog appeared to simply be in a very deep sleep; however, Perry realized that an unseen injury was possible.

Gingerly, he bent down and touched the shaggy fur. Steady breathing convinced him that the dog was merely asleep, albeit profoundly. Deciding the animal would potentially be in danger if left, Perry determined he should carry him to the truck.
"Oof!" he exclaimed as he lifted the large dog.