REX [WattyAwards2015]

chapter ii :: who left the dog out?

There are two types of people in the world. The one who can walk into an animal shelter and not suddenly become the world's most charitable heart and then there's the one who walks into an animal shelter simply to crumble into a pile of emotions while attempting to snuggle with a wiggling animal. Nigel was neither. At least, so he thought. The little black puppy hiding behind the rubbish bin stirred a part in Nigel's heart that he didn't even know existed.

It wasn't in Nigel's nature to collapse at the knees at the sight of a puppy, but he knew better than to leave the helpless creature to fend for itself. He knew Jack would've rescued the puppy without a moment's thought, but that was because Jack had an inborn talent in "communicating" to animals. Nigel never could understand how any animal, no matter their background or size, flocked to Jack. He wasn't jealous, that certainly wasn't in Nigel's nature, but he did find it all a bit odd and unsolvable.

It was on his way to his house when he saw the puppy hunkered down in the shadows on the corner of Liberty Street. There were a lot of dark parts in downtown Winston-Salem, so it was quite surprising Nigel noticed the dog at all. Perhaps it was the shrill, pathetic whining that drew Nigel's attention.

"Hello, boy," Nigel whispered as he placed one foot on the sidewalk. He could feel the sweat collecting between his hands and handlebars. Gnawing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, he looked around at the old brick buildings and streetlights, wondering if he should just continue on his way. But it was deathly hot outside and the puppy was bound to die of thirst. Carefully lifting his other leg over the seat and gently placing his bicycle on the ground, Nigel crept over to the cardboard boxes and turned over cans.

Extending the back of his hand to the creature, Nigel spoke again in a soft voice. "Come on, mate, it's all alright."

The puppy's liquid beady eyes peered from the shadows and a small whimper was heard. The cardboard boxes shifted as the animal tried to escape the human. But the only way out was into Nigel's arms.

"Come 'ere, little fella, no one's gonna hurt you. Come 'ere." Nigel managed to sit down on the hot concrete and move the boxes off of the dog. Slowly, more and more patches of black fur appeared and it wasn't long before the whole puppy was standing in front of Nigel, tail tucked and ears flat against its round head. Feeling another strange tug at his heart, Nigel slipped off his jacket and placed it over the dog's body. The puppy wiggled and fought against the fabric, but Nigel quickly scooped it up and deposited it into his bike's basket.

Feeling as if he had stolen a precious and valuable jewel, Nigel glanced over his shoulders and hopped onto his bike. Pushing off the ground, he started off towards Jack's house. He knew Jack would know what to do, and hopefully they would find a proper shelter for it by tomorrow.

When he arrived at Jack's house, which was only twenty minutes away from his own house if he took a bike and then the bus, Nigel cradled the puppy in his arms and ran across the gravel driveway. He could feel his own heart crashing against his chest and he wasn't sure why he was so excited. He was eighteen-years-old and more interested in girls than dogs, but there was something different about the parcel he carried, and he knew, the closer he got to Jack's front door, neither would have the answers.

"Oi! Jack! Open your door!" Nigel hollered when he found the screen door latched. It was usually open, but that was only if someone else in Jack's family was home. The family parrot, Dean, squawked several loud impressions of the screeching screen door and then babbled on about something that sounded like a television advertisement. "Jack?" Nigel looked over at the driveway and saw Jack's car parked. He was probably out running or asleep. Cursing under his breath, Nigel peeked at the puppy under the hood of his jacket and, seeing it was asleep, placed it on the doorstep. With both of his hands free, he reached for his phone in his back pocket.