Joe

He opens his eyes and looks over at the clock. He doesn’t need to, he knows what time it is, 5:00 am. Just like every other morning. He rubs his hand across his face and lifts his legs over the edge of the bed. And, like every other morning, his back shoots pain down his legs in protest. He groans and stands up. He shuffles to the kitchen to get coffee started and looks out the window over his fields. The sun is peeking over the hill sending off brilliant gold and pink bands of color of which he takes no notice. He is just looking for anything out of the ordinary. 

On his way to the barn, he stops halfway to take a breath, another annoyance that is now part of his morning routine. Something catches the corner of his eye, an animal running along the fence line. Bent over, hand on his hip, he squints to focus but can’t tell what it is. He stands and continues to the barn to start his chores. He is glad Allison is not here yet or she would harp on him to make an appointment with the doctor. He would nod in agreement and tell her he would call that day, then make sure to forget or get too busy. After Evie his wife died, he decided he is done with doctors. He is going to work the farm until the day he dies, which he thinks might not be too far away. There is not much he cares about since Evie passed. His days are filled with farm chores, and since everything takes him longer than it used to, he doesn’t have much time to think about anything but the farm. This is how he likes it. He does not find enjoyment in hobbies or people, although he misses when he did. Allison, his daughter, is the only person that puts up with him. She comes once a week to clean and make him dinner. He looks forward to her visits, although she would never know it. His sons no longer stop by, and he doesn’t blame them. He knows his foul moods are to blame. He wanted them to take over the farm but now is glad they chose not to. He would not have much to keep his mind occupied if they were here to take care of things.  

He walks in the dusty barn and the familiar smell of hay fills his nostrils. He starts to load the runner cart with tools to fix the northeast fence when he hears the chickens squawking in distress. He walks towards the chicken coop and sees a dog barking and running off a fox. The dog circles the coop as if he is making sure all threats are gone. He has scraggly long black hair and, even with the long hair, Joe can see he is too skinny. A stray, a mutt. “Scram! Get out of here mutt!” Joe yells. The dog looks up and runs in the direction of the fox. The last time there was a dog on the property Allison and the boys were young kids. They had found a stray and begged Joe to keep him. Joe had never seen any need for a dog. Just another animal to care for, but one that served no purpose. After coaxing from Evie, he reluctantly agreed. It didn’t end well, however. The dog got in the chicken coop and killed four chickens before Joe shot him. The kids were upset, and Evie didn’t talk to him for three days. Joe thought it was a good lesson for the kids. There is no room on the farm for predators. You need to eliminate them to protect your livelihood. Besides, he allowed them to have a few barn cats. At least they kept the mice down. He didn’t let them know if he killed a couple now and then when there got to be too many. 

The next morning when he is slowly making his way out to the barn, he sees the dog coming around the east barn. “What is that mutt up to now?” he mutters to himself. He grabs his gun from the barn hooks, steps out, and aims at the dog. The dog looks straight at him and stands still as if waiting for it. He has a perfect shot. He lowers the gun and shouts instead “Get out of here mutt if you know what’s good for ya!” The dog obediently runs off and Joe shakes his head. “Getting soft” he mutters to himself. He is finding it harder to take the life of any animal these days, even the life of a predator. “The mutt hasn’t done anything...yet anyway.” He thinks to himself. He hopes the mutt knows enough to find somewhere else to hang out. 

The next day comes and goes without any sighting of the dog. The sun sets and Joe closes the detached garage where he was working on a tractor. He makes his way across the driveway when he suddenly is short of breath. Pressure builds in his chest brings him to his knees. He groans out loud. He tries to take deep breaths, but it is too painful. As he is laying there the dog comes running and lays beside him. After what feels like forever, the pain subsides, and he is exhausted. He tries to stand up, but his legs fail him. He wants to yell at the dog to go away, but he is too weak. The dog nudges his head under Joe’s arm and lifts it. Joe makes another attempt to stand and fails. The dog then wriggles his whole body under Joe’s and lifts. Joe uses the dog to lean on and stands up. He shuffles to the door and swings it open. The dog sits outside the door and watches Joe walk in the house. Joe looks down and says, “Thanks Mutt.”  

The next morning Joe sits at the table to eat breakfast when he remembers the dog. He takes his plate and coffee out to the porch and there he is, lying in front of the door. Joe sits down and the dog watches him. He drinks his coffee and looks out over the fields. “Guess you can’t tell me to call the doctor, huh Mutt?” The dog perks his ear and cocks his head. “Get over here and have some breakfast.” He set his plate down and lets the dog eat. He is not hungry anyway.  

Joe does not call the doctor that day, nor does he make the dog leave.  

 The next Tuesday Allison walks in the door and raises her eyebrow when she sees the dog sitting on the couch. “Meet Mutt” says Joe.