100TWC - Day 27: Lost and Found

The city shivered. And with it, Carl. Sat on his favourite corner of Mason, leaning against the cold marble of a high-rise office block, his hat on the sidewalk in front of him. A dog-eared cardboard sign was propped at a dangerous angle behind the hat.

VIETNAM VET. PLEASE HELP.

He watched the people. They ignored him. Intent on their Christmas shopping, wallets and purses bulging with cash, or gold credit cards, they rushed from one retail opportunity to the next with scarcely time to draw breath. Their attention was nailed to the sales signs, bright window dressing and 2-for-1 offers. They had none to spare for him. Thirty years on from his last trip to 'Nam and he was still flying beneath the radar.

"Woof!"

A dog's bark jolted him from his war memories. Between the criss-crossing legs of the Yuletide shoppers, Carl caught a brief glimpse of a black-and-tan collie nervously checking out the faces of the rapidly passing throng. The dog ran first one way, then the other, its head permanently held at an upward angle, its eyes flicking from face to face. Occasionally the collie's tail would wag tentatively before curling back down between its hind legs in fear.

"Here, boy!" Carl called, uncertain whether the dog was in fact male but figuring it wouldn't be offended. "Come on! Come here!"

Attracted by the sound of a friendly voice directed toward it, the collie stopped, staring across the few yards of pavement that separated them. Trying to decide if this was a friend, or a trick.

Carl rummaged in his filthy knapsack for the remains of his meagre breakfast. The last inch of a cereal bar was all he had left. He held it out to the still waiting dog.

"Here y'are fella! Come and get it!"

The dog cocked its head to one side, considering. A kindred lost spirit, thought Carl. He could understand its reluctance to trust a stranger. He set the crumb of comfort down on the sidewalk beside his hat and sat back, regarding the dog with what he hoped was a friendly expression in canine terms.

After a moment's further hesitation the collie approached, sniffed the cereal bar, and snapped it up in a single bite. Carl held out his hand for the dog to sniff. It wagged its tail and came closer. Carl ruffled the nape of its neck gently.

"There boy. See? You can find a friend in the strangest places. Lost, are ya? Lost your folks?"

The dog whined and lay down on the sidewalk beside Carl. He had just begun to consider the benefits of having a dog to attract greater sympathy from the passing crowd when an excited voice cut through the street noise.

"Roger! He's here!"

A young woman in expensive looking jeans and a cut-off top that reminded Carl of his Vietnam lifesaver vest struggled to push her way towards him through the mass of people who all seemed to be rushing in the opposite direction.

"Vince! Vince! Mummy's here boy!" she called. Carl noticed a man a few yards behind the woman, an empty leash trailing from one hand. Roger, he guessed. The woman had successfully negotiated the crowd and crouched down beside the dog. Vince looked at her, panting. Carl would've sworn the dog was smiling.

"Ruff!" the dog exclaimed quietly, starting to lick the woman's hand.

"Thank God you found him," the woman exclaimed. "We thought we'd never get him back in all this mad crowd."

"Actually, he found me," Carl began to say as Roger breached the last of the shoppers and joined his wife and dog by the wall.

"Hey fella!" Roger said. Carl was unsure if he was addressing the dog, or him. The dog, still intent on washing his mistress's hand, ignored Roger. Roger reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and fished for a bill.

"Here, buddy. Thanks for looking after Vince. We thought--"
"You'd lost him. Yeah, your wife said. It was nothing, really. He found--"
"No, take this," Roger said, holding out a hundred-dollar bill.

Carl's eyes widened. More money than he'd seen in a month. He hesitated.

"Come on, take it. Look as if you could use it, and we might never have found Vince if he hadn't stayed with you. He doesn't normally take to strangers."

Carl took the bill. He turned it over in his hand.

"Vietnam eh?" Roger went on. "Did two tours in Iraq myself. Tough times. No worse than what you went through, I guess."
"I guess."
"Listen, do you have a place to stay friend?"


[ this story is continued later in the writing challenge - on Day 81 in "A Place to Belong" ]