Prophet

dog by scavengercat808 

He was born with short ears. Never has been bound. 

Rarely was barking.

Sky blue eyes were the trumps. ‘Get lost’ labyrinths.

Anticipated bad weather, ears raised and fell down.

Panting, he circled eyes, - they become gigantic.

We called the dog Prophet, or shortly Pro. His favorite spot outside was by the fence, watching street life through the hole, formed by missing stake.

One late afternoon, on Sunday, I was sleepy, under weather, (the thunder’s expected), when agitated ‘bow-wow’ was heard from the garden.

I leaned forward heeding…A sharp dry sound made me jump off the sofa and snuggled up to the window.

Through the framed hole of severely broken fence, as if in the movie, I saw Pro, approaching the strange balancing in the mist silhouette.

The drunkard, hesitantly swaying on the edge of sidewalk lip, gradually slided to the roadway. Wearing the grey cloak he was invisible for oncoming two-storied tourist bus.

The world stopped. Just for moment. Sticky thoughts circled my heart…

Next I knew was wet wool of Pro, touching my skin, pulling the poor fellow  to the room. The drunkard slept as baby.

After this incident Pro has never been silent again. He easy got nervous.

So we decided to fix fence totally.  How I was surprised, when the young master appeared to be former drunkard. He celebrated the first paycheck from new job on that day. Grateful for saving his life, Brendon repaired the fence for free.

The mends were so perfect you could not even tell the board had been damaged.

 Now I always use the  leash to let Pro outside.  

Brenda Warren

The Mag

Sunday Whirl