HOUND

xxxvi

It was a chocolate Labrador.

That had always been Jack's favorite kind of dog. There was something about Labradors, something in their eyes. To Jack, they had a nice smile--a good grin--but the eyes held a terrible sadness that you only find with an old soul. He could relate to the dog. A charming smile, but eyes that showed the weariness.

He wasn't sure what to name it, at first. He had never had a dog before, but he also never dreamed of one to the point where he had everything picked out. As a writer, he felt the need to pick something that fit perfectly. But what fit perfectly? It was just a dog.

But then again, it wasn't just any ole dog. It was Jack's dog.

The dog was friendly enough, but not hyper like a new puppy. He immediately took a liking to Jack, and had been trained enough to understand commands like, 'sit', 'stay', and 'no.' Jack also took an immediate liking to the dog. There was something about the way it looked at him. Like it really saw him. Strange, to be seen.

The shelter worker was nice and chatty. He told Jack about how the previous owner had Alzheimer's, and was in a nursing home. The dog used to howl for his old owner every night, and the shelter worker said that the dog was never friendly to anyone...until Jack. Jack wasn't sure if this was some sort of spiel, but it was nice to hear. 

"Do you want a leash?" The shelter worker said. Jack shrugged.

"Uh," He patted his pockets. He had no other money, than the handful of cash he had taken to purchase the animal. "I don't have anything else on me, sorry."

The worker waved a hand, dismissing this. "No, man, no problem. It's on the house, since you're taking him off our hands. Making him happy, that's what this is about, right?" He disappears to the back of the store. Jack waits at the counter, tapping his fingers against the linoleum top. In the kennel next to him is the chocolate lab.

When Jack entered the store, he didn't see anything that really caught his eye. He was about to settle for a border collie puppy, when he heard a bark. Of course, the shelter was full of barking dogs and meowing cats. But this bark was different, or at least it felt different to Jack. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and chill bumps ran down his arms. When he met the dog, he knew the dog was the one. A romance, but with a man's best friend.

The dog was staring at him with those sad eyes, but its face was peaceful. Jack felt peaceful, too.

The shelter worker returned. He slapped a leather leash onto the counter.

"This was the lab's original leash," He says. Jack picks up the leash, admiring it. Intricate embroidery decorates the outer edges. It looks handmade--and antique. Who knows how much it was worth? To think that the shelter didn't try and sell it.

"What was the lab's name?" Jack asks. "What did the owner call him?"

The worker rolls his eyes, sighing with a little chuckle. "That's the thing," He grins. "We don't even know! The old man had no kids, and couldn't remember the dog, most of the time. But his neighbors had sworn the dog was his, and pictures in his house confirmed it all. But no name! Not a certificate of ownership, not a nametag--nothing." He flails his arms as he speaks, wildly gesturing. Jack catches a glint of a silver name badge. Dexter.

Dexter slides the leash off the counter and moves to let the lab out of the kennel. He hooks the leash on, handing the dog over to Jack. Jack crouches down and scratches behind the dog's fudgey ears.

They walk out, and Jack starts to talk to the dog.

"I really need a name for you," He says. The dog looks at him, tail wagging. Jack glances back to the shelter. Grunting, he nods his head. "I guess I'll call you Dexter. Dex for short, if you want."

Jack looks down at the dog. Dexter is pissing on the sidewalk.