Norman's Neighborhood

Nineteen

As the truck pulled into the yard, the door of the main house opened and a tall man stepped out. Shading his eyes against the glare of the sun, he walked slowly toward the still moving vehicle. Perry stopped in his customary place under the canopy of a large tree, and waved a hand in acknowledgement of his employer.
"Hannah's with me; let me lift her down," Perry said, heading around to the passenger side door.

The little girl twirled away from her father's hands as her feet touched the ground, the skirt of her crimson jumper swirling around her. Skipping up to Paul De Laurentiis, she grasped his hand in both of hers and demanded,
"Uncle Paul! Guess what we have in the truck!"
"Oh - let's see...", the blond man answered, smiling down at the excited little girl.

Hannah, as soon as she could talk, had dubbed her parents' employer "Uncle Paul". Her mother, Anna, had attempted to correct the toddler's familiarity, but Paul insisted that she be allowed to use the special name. Though a bachelor of nearly forty, he seemed to drop some of his usual reserve when around children. Perry and Anna had never broached the subject with him, but they both felt he would like to have a family of his own.

"Do you have a big pile of candy?" he guessed.
"No!" Hannah giggled.
"How about... a swimming pool for you?"
Hannah grinned, pleased that he wasn't guessing correctly. "Nope! Not even close!" she announced, vigorously shaking her head.
"OK, I have one more guess... Bubbles?"
The little girl burst into a fit of giggles.
"No-o-o-o! Come see!" She tugged on his hand, and he obediently followed her around to the bed of the truck.

Paul peered into the truck bed, then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. Putting them on, he examined the still sleeping dog. He looked over the top of his glasses at Perry, then took them off again and queried,
"Is he hurt? Where did he come from?" Perry explained the circumstances, concluding,
"He doesn't seem to be hurt; I can't be sure, of course. He seems to be in a very deep sleep."
"Strange," Paul frowned, slipping the glasses back in his pocket.

"Mummy!" Hannah shrieked suddenly, tearing off toward the approaching woman, who was balancing a dozing  baby on her hip. A girl, older than Hannah, walked beside the woman."Mummy! Sarah! Come see!" Hannah sped toward them as she called out. When she reached them, she spun around and grabbed Sarah's hand. Tugging on it, she urged the bigger girl toward the blue pickup.

Anna Penrose followed her girls more sedately, waist-length brown hair swaying with each step. She looked inquiringly at her husband.
"What did you buy? I thought you were just going after fencing material... Oh!" she exclaimed, as she saw the big gray dog. She shifted the baby to a more secure position.
"What is it? I want to see!" Sarah pleaded. "Daddy, lift me up!"

Perry raised his eldest daughter to his shoulders and, for the second time in a few minutes, recounted how they had discovered the dog lying just off the road.
"Is he OK? Is he just sleeping?" asked Sarah. Anna, with a mother's concern, backed up a step and remarked,
"I hope he's not sick!"
"I don't think so," Perry responded, "Maybe he's in shock though. He may have been hit and has internal bleeding - but there's no evidence on the outside."

Paul, who had put his glasses back on, was examining the dog gently.
"He's a nice-looking fellow... No collar, no ID - wonder if he's chipped..." he mused, almost to himself. Sarah heard him and asked, wrinkling her nose and looking perplexed,
"Chipped? How could he be chipped? A dog isn't like a plate!"

Paul thought for a few seconds, biting his lower lip as he tried to formulate a simple explanation for the little girl. He squatted down to be at eye level with Sarah.
"A microchip is a tiny thing, about the size of a grain of rice. It can store information on it about the dog and its owner."
Sarah frowned. "But - how does it get on the chip? Does somebody have to write it? I can write, but I need a BIG piece of paper!"

"Wff..."
Everyone had been so absorbed in the abstract conversation that they had almost forgotten about the actual dog. The big gray animal had stood to his feet in the bed of the truck, waiting to be noticed. When it didn't happen, he politely reminded them of his presence.
"Oh, hello there, boy!" Paul offered the back of his hand for the dog to sniff. "Are you all right, then?"
The big dog approached cautiously, inhaled delicately, then exhaled - whuffing with his square muzzle against the man's hand.
"I'll put the tailgate down and see what he does," suggested Perry. Paul nodded in agreement.
"Give him lots of room," Perry advised his daughters as he let the tailgate drop.

Norman was confused. How had he ended up in the back of a pickup truck? The last thing he remembered was staggering off to the side of the road and collapsing in exhaustion. He moved slowly to the back of the truck and looked down, gauging the distance from the truck bed to the ground. He didn't feel quite steady on his feet - dare he jump? He chose to be cautious, and ended up performing an ungraceful slither to the gravel-covered driveway.