He’s already veering off the road into an empty section of the parking lot alongside the store. Light pours out the front, but there are ominous shadows and shapes hugging the side of the building. What’s he doing? I want to get to the theater. The wine is going through me, and I’ll soon have to use the restroom.
“Why are we stopping?” I ask. “What did you see?”
I peek at the time on the dashboard again as he slows the car. His brow is furrowed in concentration while I’m still perplexed by this little mystery.
“Something moved by that dumpster.” He stops the car and jumps out. “Someone could be hurt.”
I swing open my door and peer into the shadows by the dumpster. I still don’t see anything, but a bit of pride swells up. Brad will save the day. Brad is Superman.
He holds his palm out in front of me. “Don’t get out. Let me check it out first.”
I stop. I’ve swung my legs over and sit with my shoes brushing the asphalt. He’s protective and is going to save somebody. My Brad is brave. My Brad is a hero.
“Be careful,” I call after him.
I have no desire to approach a dangerous situation, but he may soon be in possible peril with no weapon. Just his wits. What can I do if someone jumps out and attacks him? What if he needs help? My mind is racing. I try to ascertain if any items in the car can be used as a weapon. There’s nothing in the back seat except my jacket. I can only watch and wait.
I squint into the darkness as Brad cautiously steps closer to the corner of the dumpster that’s almost out of view. I watch apprehensively expecting something to jump out at him that he’ll wrestle like in some movie. Naturally he won’t need my help. He’ll win after a brief battle or he’ll save somebody’s life, somebody who’s been missing for days or weeks. He’ll be on the news and get a reward. I’ll stand beside him smiling proudly. Yes, I saw the whole thing.
He’s walking back to me. He has not had to fight anyone off. He’s safe.
“It’s just a dog,” he tells me.
“Poor thing,” I say. “Is it okay?”
I have a soft spot for animals. When I was growing up, my parents always took in strays, and sometimes we had quite a few dogs and cats coexisting. One of the cats used to sleep on my bed at night, and I found it calming, especially when I heard a noise in the stillness of the house or awoke from a nightmare. I’d pull the cat close to me and her purring would dispel my fears.
“I didn’t see a collar.” Brad’s standing there, staring back at the shadows. “It’s scared. I bet it’s hungry.”
“I wish I could take it. My kids would love a dog, but I can’t have any pets…”
“I don’t want to leave it,” he says looking at me. “Do you mind if we miss the movie? I could call animal control if you want…”
“No, don’t do that. Who knows what will happen to it?” I protest. “Let’s take it. We could try to find the owner or find a home for it.”
“Oh, man.” He grins. “I’m a sucker for animals.”
I smile back. “Me too.”
He’s sentimental after all. This is encouraging. He has the ability to open up to me and let down his defenses. He just needs time.
“Can you keep an eye on it, and I’ll run into the store and buy some food for it?”
“Sure,” I say. “I want to see it.”
“Be careful. It’s scared. I don’t want it to run off.”
“Okay.” I step out of the car as Brad jogs over to the entrance to the store. Brad is still a hero. He’s going to save this poor lost dog.
I gingerly approach the dumpster. “Hey, little guy,” I say gently.
I hear a whine. I hope it’s not hurt. I continue to take slow steps until a dark furry face appears. I stop and crouch down speaking to it softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
It’s a small dark-brown dog. It wags its tail nervously whining and giving little barks. I can’t see it very well as it stays within the shadows. I keep speaking to it in soft tones until my legs start to ache from crouching. I stand and stretch, looking anxiously toward the store entrance. What’s taking so long? I hope they’re not calling animal control.
Finally, Brad emerges from the big sliding glass doors pushing a noisy cart. The dog backs further into the shadows.
“You’re scaring it,” I call. I go to meet him. The cart is brimming. “Let’s just take all this stuff over to the car.”
“Good idea.”
He’s bought a case of dogfood that he sets in the trunk. I spread the fleece blanket he’s purchased on the backseat. He’s also bought bowls, a collar and leash, a bag of dry dogfood, a rope tug toy, and a box of treats that he opens to entice the dog into the car.
“Looks like you’re going to keep it,” I observe.
“We’ll see.” Despite his measured tone, I can tell he’s excited about it. This is a side of him I haven’t seen and I like it. He’s caring and compassionate.
The dog hungrily gobbles up the treats and hesitantly follows Brad to the car. I sit in the front seat watching so as not to scare it off. The dog trusts Brad and jumps into the back seat. He sniffs the blanket and settles on it.
“I left my number in the store in case someone is looking for it,” Brad tells me as he gets in the car.
“I bet he’s thirsty,” I say.
“Yeah. I’ll give him water at home.” He turns to me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Of course I am. I love animals,” I assure him.
“Good.” He pats my hand.
After Brad pulls into the garage, he closes the gate and lets the dog out. The little dog runs around the yard exploring and sniffing.
Brad goes into the house and fills a bowl with filtered water and another with canned dog food, which he places just outside the garage. We stand and watch the dog lap up water and chow down the food.
“I think I’ll leave him outside tonight. It’s not cold and he’s pretty dirty,” Brad says.
“But can’t you put him in the laundry room…”
“He’ll be happier outside. I’ll leave the garage door open a few feet so he can get in,” he says. “Let’s make him a bed inside the garage.”
We fold up the fleece blanket and place it inside the garage. The dog is still exploring the yard. We venture inside and order an on-demand movie but end up checking on the dog every fifteen minutes or so until we both tumble into bed and fall asleep without making love.
When I wake up in the morning, Brad isn’t beside me. He’s outside playing tug of war with the rope toy he’d bought for the dog. As I stand at the window watching them, a tide of love flows through me. I’ve just fallen more deeply in love with this man who secretly has a soft spot for animals.
I dress and wander outside. The dog tentatively approaches me sniffing and swishing his tail. I hold out my hand, and he licks it.
“She’s okay,” Brad tells the dog, and we both laugh.
“He doesn’t look that old,” I say. “I wonder if somebody abandoned him or he got lost.”
“He’s a she.”