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'THERE IS PLACE AND MEANS FOR EVERY DOG ALIVE'

In this little town if you were sixty-nine or younger you have never experienced weather this cold in November. On a day after Thanksgiving, whole world in rage of wind and sleet, malicious rain pouring down upon the rooftops, lawns, streets and sidewalks… It was on that very day that Satan’s nose tapped lightly on Tillie Haberland’s back door.

-Excuse me, madame, for disturbing you… I was just wondering if you’d find acceptable me sleeping over in that empty tool-shed at the back of your property? It’s getting chilly at nighttime and I’m too tired to sleep with one eye opened, keeping the riff-ruff away… Just over the holidays perhaps?

Had it happened to somebody else the whole scene would have developed in a different manner, but this is Tillie Haberland we’re talking about. Long time ago she decided not to ask too many questions. If this animal had a gift of speach, there had to be a good reason for it, so be it. Tillie took one long look at her visitor and opened the door further.

-Of course, honey, but look at you…! All shaking, all soaked through... Why don’t you come in here, we’ll clean up all that mess first, then have us some decent dinner and afterwards talk things over.

-Better not, madame… I would hate to ruin your carpets. The state I’m in…

-Nonsense! Come right in. I’m going to get you some towels.

The invitation sounded sincere and Satan decided to push all his pride aside and started wiping his all fours upon the doormat. He felt ambarassed for the pitifull state he was in, but the warmth and light coming from the inside of the house seemed to be irresistably drawing him in. Just as he was crossing the treshold Tillie reappeared carrying a tower of towels in her arms.

-Here you are, dear… Let me dry you up a bit. She begun to extract the water from a gingered-coloured fur and upon the closer look noticed traces of blood pouring out off the long, nasty cut on the front side of dog’s back leg.

-This needs some attending to… Have one more towel, honey. I’ve got all we need to patch you up right here in the kitchen cabinet, follow me.

Satan obeyed his host and stepped inside a spacious, tidy kitchen. Tillie started rummaging her cabinets for a first aid kit.

-It may sting a bit but it’s gonna make it all better very soon. The brown eyes framed by thick, white eyelashes got a bit misty, she noticed, but it was probably just a rainwater...

-Didn’t even make a sound, what a tough little guy- she thought, after pouring half a bottle of iodine on the cut.

-The bandages now… Not too thight? All right then. All set. Let me wrap you in some blankets on the sofa in the living room, right by the fireplace.

Satan followed his host once again and found himself in a softly lit den, filled with house plants, simple bookshelves, large aquarium with plenty of goldfish swimming around, soft carpets on the floor, couple of armchairs, coffee table and a cozy sofa in front of basking fireplace.

-Now, you rest here a minute and I’ll fix us some leftovers from last night.

Satan jumped on the sofa, allowed Tillie to wrap him up in a fleece quilt and enjoyed the simple pleasures of staying under the rooftop. He tried his best to stay awake, just to be polite in case Tillie would said something to him but try as he might he soon found himself drifting away a bit. When he opened his eyes again he found a large serving platter full of steaming Thanksgiving leftovers staring him straight in the face.

-What a nice dream…- went through his mind, but then Tillie’s voice brought this glorious fantasy into the realm of his existance. Unbelievable as it might seem, that was to be his dinner.

-Don’t let it get cold, now. Corn bread might be a bit on a dry side...

-What a nice dog- Tillie kept thinking to herself watching Satan devour what seemed to be his first decent meal in a very long time.

-So well behaved, after all he must have been through… She settled into her favourite armchair right next to the sofa and was sipping calmolmile tea, waiting for him to finish up.

-There is plenty more if you want.

-Thank you, but I couldn’t eat one more bite.

-Oh, but you will. We’ll both have some carrot cake for a desert. And a bit of cider should do you good.

Tightly wrapped in his blanket, gravy smudges all over his nose, Satan watched Tillie taking away the biggest serving platter she owned, all wiped clean. He couldn’t remember ever tasting better food or feeling more welcomed and at home. He was finding it all to a bit scary, really. The company of this lady and a carrot cake, both way beyond description. Satan had been watching Tillie for weeks now, just to make sure that she was the One and now he feelt grateful for not having been mistaken. Suddenly the future no longer looked grimm and intimidating while the mere prospect of sleeping under the rooftop was sending him over the top.

-Things may still turn up all right- he thought.

-Thank you, madame. Everything was delicious. To die for.

-Good then. I tell you what... Why won’t you forget about that cold shack and stay here tonight, you’re gonna be much more comfortable. And tomorrow we’ll see what your leg looks like and we’ll talk some more. Just get some sleep now and in the morning I’ll let you out for a minute and then we’ll have some breakfast together. I’m always happy to have company at the table.

-Sounds mighty good, madame.

-And call me Tillie. What do they call you?

-Satan, ma… Tillie.

-All right then. It’s not the name I’d baptise you with, but you’ve got it for some reason. Do you fancy chillie?

-Very much. As long as it’s hot. There is very little I don’t fancy when it comes to food products, I’m naturally inclined to appreciate them.

-Well, I like the sound of that. Here is one more blanket, just in case, we don’t want you freezing your privates overnight, do we? Sleep tight and I will see you tomorrow for breakfast. I’m making waffles.

-My favourite. Thank you. Good night.

Tillie retired right upstairs to her bedroom, thinking how the coldest day in sixty nine years turned out to be surprisingly all right after all, while Satan was resting his ginger-white, furry packaging inside the warm woolen blankets under the roof of Tillie’s living-room, feeling completely safe and happy to be in the right place at last. He kept going over all the kindness he had experienced today, meal, carrot cake and how much better his leg was feeling already, over and over again, until his eyes turned towards the darkness and he fell into a deep sleep.

The sun was comfortably set up in the sky by the time Satan woke up with his nostrils filled with a scent of a floury-sugary breakfast item.

-I bet she’s using a real maple syrup too… I’m a one lucky bastard…

He got off the sofa and walked into the kitchen dragging the blankets upon his behind.

-Good morning.

-Oh, here you are… Awaken, just in time. Did you sleep well?

-Like a puppy.

-Good. You go outside now, do what a dog gotta do in the morning, just don’t take too long, cause it’s mighty cold out there and I’m ready to put the breakfast on the plates any minute now. At least it’s not raining anymore.

-I’ll hurry up…

-And try not to make your bandages dirty, honey.

-I will.

Satan went out to the empty backyard, took care of his business as quickly as possible and gladly returned to the warm kitchen. Tillie pointed at a tall, oak chair with some additional padding adding a good couple of inches to it’s seat hight. The dog jumped up and allowed the glorious view of the thick waffles stocked up high to take his breath away.

-MAGNIFICENT!

-Oh, that’s nothing, just a little breakfast. Let me fix one for you. Butter, maple syrup and whipped cream, does that sound good?

-That sounds about right.

Tillie cut all into the small pieces to make it more accessible for her guest.

-And some whipped cream on the side… You’re looking much better today. A little sleep can do wonders, they say. Eat up.

She didn’t have to say that again. Obeying his host was becoming a habit of our litle drifter. They both stayed silent for a while enjoying their breakfast.

-Healthy apetite. I like that in a dog- went through Tillie’s mind.

After few moments, when nothing but crumbs remained on their plates Tillie broke the silence.

-Good?

-Very.

-Talking thing might be an issue. Outside these walls, I mean.

-I don’t make a habit of it. Nobody knows but you.

-Good. Best it stays that way. That’s settled then. Have another waffle, honey, go ahead… I got plenty of corn left over from Thanksgiving, we’ll have some burritos with our chilli later on…

Satan learned early on that his peculiar gift was not meant to be shared freely with the entire population. Not unless he’d like to be a celebrity of sorts, but he never had anyone he could trust to stand by him if such thing would transpire and besides, he was never a type to walk around with plenty of strings attached, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. For now anyway. Staying safe and surviving in one piece is a full-time job for a dog out on the streets and not until he set his eyes upon Tillie did he decide to use a human speach for the purpose of communication. And not until pondering a matter for some time.

All the same, he didn’t understand his gift any more than a rose in full bloom understands the laws of biology, but then, he just couldn’t care less why or what for.

-I think you should stay here with me over the winter. I could surely use some company. You have no idea how long the winter’s nights get for a lonely woman like myself. My eyes get tired after just a bit of reading, TV I don’t care much for and everything else is just for passing time, really. We could have a bit of fun together, don’t you think? Unless, of course you've already made some plans…

-I‘d love to stay, except, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do in return for your kindness...

-Nonsense, dear. You just be a dog, that’s your job. Leave the rest to me.

And that is how Satan became a permanent resident at Tillie Haberland’s queendom.