Cole and His Dog

by Edward Kendrick

  Wondering if the dog would obey, Cole said, “Sit. Stay.” Surprisingly, the dog sat down. Cole patted his head and went inside. He bought a small coffee and a slice of banana bread, asking if there was a restroom. The clerk nodded, pointing. Cole went in, took care of the most pressing business, then changed into a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. After washing up as best he could, he brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and went back outside. He half expected the dog to be gone. Instead he found him sitting patiently where Cole had left him.

  “Is that monster yours?” a man asked, approaching the dog warily.

  “He seems to think he is,” Cole replied with a small smile.

  “You should have him on a leash instead of letting him run free. It’s the law, in case you didn’t know.”

  “Sorry,” Cole replied, deciding it was better to accept the lecture than admit the dog wasn’t his and have the man call the cops, or animal control.

  “He’s a Bullmastiff, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Cole replied, not having a clue if the man was right. “And gentle as a lamb, if he doesn’t think you’re going to hurt me.” Again, Cole thought putting that idea out there would keep the man from doing more than trying to pat the dog on his head, which the dog accepted graciously.

  “What’s his name?”

  Cole thought fast. What would someone name a dog this big? “I wasn’t terribly imaginative, I’m afraid. I call him Bull.”

  “That works.” The man patted Bull one more time then went inside.

  “Whew.” Cole sat on a bench outside the coffee shop to eat his banana bread, breaking off a piece to give Bull. “I hope you’re okay with your new name,” Cole said, after the dog scarfed down his treat, looking at Cole for more. Bull nodded his massive head, although Cole was certain it had nothing to do with the question. Cole gave Bull the last bite, then stood.

  It wasn’t until they were halfway up the mall, heading to the bus stop, that Cole realized he had a big problem. No way would they let Bull on the bus, and Cole had planned on returning to The Haven—but on foot it would be a long walk. Still, there was nothing to do but walk, unless he planned on abandoning Bull. For a moment he considered the idea, but knew he wouldn’t. After all, the dog had saved him from getting beaten up—or worse.

  “Get your hiking boots on, Bull. We have quite a way to go.”

  Chapter 2

  A little over an hour later, Cole and Bull made it to The Haven. Bull seemed to have energy to spare, whereas Cole was about ready to drop. He did just that, collapsing on the steps up to the porch.

  “Shit, man, does that horse belong to you?” one of the teens leaning on the porch railing asked.

  Cole nodded. “He’s not quite a horse, but he seems to think he belongs to me, or—” he laughed, patting Bull’s head, “—more like I belong to him. He saved me from getting attacked this morning.”

  “Attacked?” Bret said, opening the screen door. “What happened?”

  “I slept rough, because the shelters were full. Downtown by the creek. I guess two guys decided they didn’t like my being there, and wanted to teach me a lesson. Then Bull showed up and they got the hell out of there, real fast.”

  “Damned lucky for you. Did you get hurt?”

  Cole shrugged. “Not enough to worry about. A punch in the stomach.”

  Bret sat down beside him, saying, “You’re sure?”

  “That I was punched?” Cole grinned.

  “No. That you’re all right.”

  “I made it here without passing out or anything, so yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Have you eaten? There’s still some breakfast left.”

  “Great. Umm, would it be okay if I found Bull something to eat, too?”

  “You bet. Come on.” They got up, going inside with Bull right at their heels. When they got to the kitchen, Bret took a bowl from the fridge, scooped scrambled eggs onto a plate, then microwaved them. “Sorry, there’s no more sausage.”

  “I think I’ll survive without it,” Cole said, dropping two slices of bread into the toaster. When it popped up, he buttered the toast, putting it on the plate with the eggs, and crossed to one of the tables to eat. Bull sat beside him, looking longingly at his food, so Cole got a paper towel, put half the eggs and a slice of toast on it, and put it on the floor. The food was gone almost before he sat down again.

  “Where the hell did that come from?” Adam asked, coming into the kitchen.

  “He’s with me, if you mean Bull,” Cole replied, then told Adam the story of why the dog was there.

  “You have no idea who his owner is?”

  “No.” Cole replied. “Best guess it, someone dumped him there, maybe because of his size, and people who saw him were afraid to approach to see if he had a collar and tags—which he doesn’t.”

  “I suspect you’re right. His owner probably got tired of paying to feed him.” Adam eyed Bull. “That could be a big problem. I wonder what he did for food before you found him.”

  “Took up dumpster diving?” Bret said, chuckling.

  “He’s damned near big enough to do that,” Adam responded. “We’ll need one of those fifty pound bags of dog food, for starters. And I bet I can get the butcher down at the grocery store to give us scraps and some bones.”

  “Hang on. I don’t want you putting yourself out,” Cole said hastily. “I have a few dollars. I can buy dog food for him.”

  “And carry it back here?”

  “Well…”

  “Thought as much. Give me what you can afford. My wife and I are going grocery shopping for the place this afternoon. We’ll pick up his food, and like I said, hit the butcher up for scraps.”

  “Thank you.” Cole took out his wallet. “Do you think thirty dollars is enough?”

  “Probably more than enough,” Adam told him, taking the money Cole handed him. “If not, I’ll make up the difference.”

  “No. I want—”

  “Cole, it’s okay. I feel about animals the same way I do about all you guys who come here. They need to eat, the same as you.”

  “So we rate right up there with a dog?” Bret asked, laughing.

  “Well, maybe a bit higher,” Adam said with a straight face. “The main thing is, if Bull’s taken on protecting Cole, he needs to keep up his strength. Right, Bull?” He scratched behind the dog’s ears, earning him a slobbery lick. “Okay, that I did not need,” Adam grumbled, going to wash his hands.

  “Did you get any sleep last night,” Bret asked Cole.

  “Some, but…”

  “There’s an empty bed. I suggest you use it. The way you look right now, you’ll get nowhere fast, trying to job hunt.”

  “Can I take Bull up with me?”

  “I have the feeling you’d be hard pressed to keep him from following, so yeah. As long as you’re sure he won’t try to protect you from anyone here.”

  “He didn’t bother people on our way over.”

  “Bullmastiffs, and that’s what he looks like,” Adam said, “are supposed to be very friendly unless they think their owner is being threatened.”

  “Then I better not get in any arguments with the guys around here.” Cole smirked. “Not that it’ll happen. I’m not someone who looks for trouble.”

  “I figured as much,” Adam replied.

  Cole picked up his backpack and headed upstairs, with Bull right behind him.

  * * * *

  Cole slept until late in the afternoon. After using the bathroom, he got dressed, deciding to wear his shoes instead of the sandals since he knew he’d be doing a lot of walking. He went downstairs to find Adam and his wife, Paula, in the kitchen putting away groceries, with the help of a couple of teens. Cole immediately pitched in after thanking Adam for the bag of dog food sitting in the entryway by the back door.

  “There a ton of scraps and bones, wrapped in white paper packages, in the big fridge in the basement,” Adam told him. “The butcher’s going to start saving bones for Bull.”

&nb
sp; “That’s fantastic.” Telling Bull to stay, Cole picked up a load of non-perishables, taking them down to store on the shelves in the pantry, then got one of bones and a package of the scraps. Going upstairs, he took Bull into the backyard to let him eat. When he got back to the kitchen, he found Paula had filled an old pot with dog food and put it in the corner of the entryway. “So he’ll be out from underfoot when he eats,” she said.

  Cole thanked her and continued to help put everything away. When he checked on Bull a few minutes later, the dog was happily gnawing his bone.

  “As soon as I eat,” Cole told him, “you and I have to hit the road and find a good place to bed down for the night.” The moment he said that, Cole realized it wouldn’t be in a shelter. He knew they wouldn’t allow Bull inside, to say the least of sleeping next to his bed. And he wasn’t about to leave Bull to his own resources and take the chance someone would call animal control.

  An hour later, after eating dinner, Cole got his backpack, and Bull, and they took off. Since he’d given Adam half his money for Bull’s food, Cole decided it was about time he tried spanging, as Adam had called it. He had no intention of being penniless if he couldn’t find a job—something he was beginning to think wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

  While they walked toward downtown, Cole again noticed the people they passed giving them wide berth and wondered if Bull might turn out to be a drawback to his spanging. He decided to test the theory, choosing a movie theater where people were waiting to buy their tickets. He leaned against the wall, telling Bull to sit. Then he held out an empty soft drink cup he’d found in a trash bin they’d passed.

  Most of the people avoided looking at him, as if not wanting to admit he even existed. Others seemed leery of Bull and kept their distance. Cole was about to give up and move on when a girl who looked about twenty came over.

  “Is he tame?” she asked.

  Cole chuckled. “Yes. He’s not a wild animal. He’s also friendly.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she tentatively petted Bull’s head.

  “Watch out he doesn’t lick you,” Cole cautioned. “He’s slobbery.”

  “That’s okay. I’m used to it. I have a boxer.” She continued petting Bull, while asking, “Are you trying to get enough money to feed both of you?”

  “Yeah, but especially Bull. He eats like a horse.”

  She pulled her hand away before Bull had a chance to thank her with a lick, digging into her purse. “Here,” she said, putting a couple of dollars into Cole’s cup.

  By then, there were a few bystanders watching and listening. A man commented on Bull’s size, asking Cole what breed the dog was. Cole told him, then thanked him when the man dropped a handful of change into the cup.

  “You know,” a woman said as she also put a bill in the cup, “you should make a sign saying you’re trying to make enough to keep him in dog biscuits, or something like that. Everyone wants to help animals.”

  More than people, I suspect. Cole thanked her for the suggestion, saying that was a great idea.

  Once the ticket line dwindled down, Cole pushed off the wall. “Let’s go to the mall,” he said to Bull. As if he knew where that was, the dog took off walking in the right direction so rapidly Cole had to quicken his pace to catch up. “Slow down,” he muttered, and Bull did, giving Cole a chance to see how much money they’d made. “Whoa. I can afford to buy us both steaks,” he commented happily. “Big ones.”

  By the time they got to the mall it was dark. Not that it mattered, since the mall was well lit. Cole spotted several homeless people, teens, and adults, leaning or sitting against shop walls, or on the low walls in front of a couple of plazas. He found a vacant spot by one of the plazas and sat. Bull immediately took his place beside Cole, watching the passing pedestrians with interest.

  Again, as earlier, a few people drifted over, attracted by Bull. Some of them dropped money into the cup at Cole’s feet, when he said he needed to feed Bull.

  They had been there an hour when an obviously homeless man wandered over to sit beside them. “That’s some racket you have going,” he commented. “Maybe I should get me a dog.”

  Cole shrugged. “Not really a racket. Keeping him in food, and me too, costs.”

  “You might try the dumpsters behind some of the restaurants, if you’re not squeamish. You won’t find much, but I bet he’s not too fussy when it comes to what he’ll eat.”

  “Not that I’ve seen so far,” Cole admitted. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “You’re new around here.”

  “Yeah. I’ve only been on the streets for a few days.” Cole shook his head. “It’s hard.”

  “No shit. At least you have the dog gimmick going for you. That’s more than most of us do.”

  “True, but when it comes down to it…”

  “You’d rather be home in a nice warm bed. I know that feeling.” The man sighed and got up. “I’d better get moving before someone snags the spot where I crash. A word of advice, kid. Don’t try to bed down in the alleys around here. The cops will roust you real fast. They don’t arrest you, but they will make you move on.”

  Cole nodded. “I heard that. Last night we tried down by the creek.” He told the man what had happened.

  “So he’s homeless, too.” The man patted Bull’s head. “Take my advice, kid, keep him close and get yourself a piece of pipe or a hunk of tree branch. That way anyone who decides to mess with you will have second thoughts.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Cole replied. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good to meet you. Stay safe,” the man said as he walked away.

  “You too,” Cole called out.

  “Plan on it,” the man replied without looking back.

  Cole and Bull spent another hour on the mall before Cole decided it was time to see if they could find a spot by the creek where they could spend the rest of the night. At least now he had a sleeping bag, thanks to The Haven’s donation room. And someone to watch my back. He patted Bull’s head, pulling his hand away quickly to avoid getting slobbered on.

  Cole had no intention of returning to where he’d crashed the previous night. He wasn’t about to tempt fate. So he and Bull continued on down the bike path, heading farther away from downtown. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he saw a spot he thought would work—three small trees surrounded by bushes, abutting the concrete retaining wall, with large rocks between them and the creek.

  Taking off his shoes and socks, and rolling up his pants legs because the creek was deeper here, Cole waded across and scrambled over the rocks.

  “What do you think, Bull? Perfect, huh?” Cole thought it was. There was just enough room between the bushes and the wall for him to spread out his sleeping bag. The bushes were thick, which would keep them from being visible to anyone on the bike path, or from the grassy area at the top of the wall. “Home away from home.” Not a happy thought, but one he was getting used to.

  Bull must have agreed, because he settled down right next to Cole when the teen crawled into the sleeping bag. Soon, despite the sounds of traffic and occasional voices along the path, Cole fell asleep.

  Sunlight woke Cole the next morning. For a moment he was disoriented, before realizing where he was—and that Bull was nowhere in sight.

  “Guess he didn’t think this was such a great spot after all,” Cole muttered disconsolately as he got out of the sleeping bag and rolled it up. Desperately needing to pee, he made his way down to a bush by the edge of the creek a few yards from where he’d slept. It gave him just enough cover to relieve his bladder without anyone seeing him. Going back, he used the bungee cord Adam had given him to lash the sleeping bag to his backpack, then slung the pack over his shoulders.

  Just then Bull appeared. He dropped a fast food take-out container—gripped carefully in his large jaws—at Cole’s feet. More than a bit surprised, Cole opened it to find a partially eaten breakfast burrito and the remains of some hash browns.

  “Been
dumpster diving?” Cole asked, chuckling. Of course he didn’t get an answer. “Here. I’ll share.” He split the burrito in two, giving one piece to Bull while devouring the other plus the hash browns. “This should tide us over until we get back to The Haven,” he told Bull.

  They waited until there was no one in sight on the bike path, then waded across the creek. Cole took out his phone, intending to find the quickest way from where they were back to The Haven, only to find out the phone was dead. And stupid me, I didn’t bring the charger. Not that I could use it right now, but…Shaking his head, he stuffed the phone back in his pocket, put on his socks and shoes, and took off walking along the path with Bull by his side.

  Chapter 3

  “Someone slept rough, again?” Bret asked when Cole and Bull came into the front room of The Haven.

  “Not as rough as two nights ago,” Cole replied. “And believe it or not, Bull can dumpster dive, or at least get stuff out of trash containers. He brought me breakfast, or what was left of one that someone threw away.”

  “Impressive.” Bret patted Bull’s head. “Cole, why don’t you go clean up while I feed the beast. Then you can eat lunch before you take off job hunting.”

  “Like I’m going to find one,” Cole muttered.

  “You won’t with that attitude,” Bret said. “Have you hit up the shopping center yet?”

  “Where is it?”

  “About three miles west of here. You can’t miss it. It’s not big, but…” Bret shrugged. “There’s also a mall northwest of here.”

  “I’ll give them a try,” Cole told him before going to shower and change into his last pair of clean jeans and a shirt.

  When he got back, lunch was set out for all the teens who were there. He found a spot at the end of one of the tables after getting a sandwich and a bowl of fruit from the serving counter.

  “You’re the guy with the big dog,” the girl next to him said. “Is he friendly?”

  “Yep, if you’re not trying to hurt me.”

  “Must be nice,” she said wistfully.

  They talked for a few minutes about living on the streets, with other teens chiming in. In the process, Cole found out there were some safe spots to crash in the area—mainly around Sloan’s Lake, or at park along a creek about ten blocks south of The Haven.