It’s been a year since she showed up on my doorstep that snowy winter night. Poor girl was matted then and dirty and her ribs were showing. She whined and looked up at me with the wide mournful eyes that could only belong to a hound. I shut the door on her and eagerly mounted the stairs to greet my warm bed.
I lay in bed, tossing and turning, and when I finally did get to sleep, the hound’s beautiful pleading eyes haunted my dreams. I rose, shivering, and plodded barefoot down the stairs again and over to the door. I thought that I might let her in and give her a steak if she was still there. I unbolted the door and swung it open, wincing as the intense cold ran through my body.
The dog was gone.
Relieved at the thought that I didn’t have to take the pup in, I started to ascend the staircase where I halted. I could hear very faintly the sound of the mutt whining, as if she was stuck somewhere. My instincts took over, and the little part of my heart that wasn’t hardened by years of anger cried out for the dog. I knew I would not sleep until I knew the dog was safe. I huffed, but went back down and, donning my snow boots and heavy coat, stomped sullenly out the door.
Grumbling to myself, I circled my house, looking for the dog. I spotted her in the distance, lying in the snow. The little clumsy thing had managed to bump into some boards that were resting unsteadily against the side of the house. They had fallen on top of her, holding her down and sinking her into the snow. As I walked over, I sort of hoped that I’d find the thing dead. I didn’t ever like dogs. Nasty, slobbering creatures.
When I got to her, she was partially frozen and barely moving. She whined a bit at me, and I carried her inside under my arm.
Once I was back inside, I started a fire in the fireplace and laid the dog out on some blankets in front of it. I then hurriedly heated myself some cocoa and, wrapped in some thick blankets, sat by the fire to defrost myself. I told myself that I’d turn it out when the snow was gone.
Of course, when you make plans, they don’t end up happening quite the way you intended. Time passed, and hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. The snow didn’t melt, the weather didn’t get warmer, and the dog was still with me.
Every evening for several weeks it was the same thing. I’d settle down with a cup of hot tea and read, while she’d lie across from me. And when I would ascend the stairs for bed, she would hop up on the sofa and fall asleep.
When a particularly cold spell arrived, I moved my chair closer to the fire so I could read comfortably. The dog lay down off of the rug, much to my pleasure. I wish I’d thought of that sooner.
I became engaged in my book, and didn’t look up for several chapters. When I did, the pup had sneaked across the rug and was lying under my chair next to the fire. I half-heartedly swung my leg at her, and she scurried away again. I continued reading, and it wasn’t long until the dog was beside me again, trying to get near the fire.
I sighed, realizing that I had to let her near the fire, and returned to my book. This cold spell would be over in a day or so, and then I could have my space back. It didn’t happen though – the weather stayed cold, and every evening I had to read with a dog under my chair.
She grew more and more daring, going one night as far as resting her head on my foot. Almost unconsciously, I reached my hand slowly down and patted the dog on the head. She looked up at me in surprise, and I shook myself and glared at her a little. She whined and put her head down again.
After that night the weather grew warmer. The ice and snow began to melt, and the cruelness of that winter slowly faded away. It was settled: she would stay.
Does this ending make sense or does it seem like it should be going on further? Also, did anyone get the symbolism the first time around? Please let me know
Also, thanks to Petraverd, Ariel, Lil, and Esprit for their titles and help in writing this
wow)
