Ryden Oneshots

Xenodochy

Xenodochy
n. Reception of strangers; hospitality

The dog looks vaguely like a Jack Russell with two floppy ears, big almond eyes and a tiny black button nose. It’s got brown spots here and there on its otherwise white fur, and it’s got a rod-like white tail that’s not wagging. It’s staring, Ryan thinks, if dogs could stare, that is, and it reminds him of Button so much that he’s startled. It can’t be Button, though, because that was years ago in Vegas and this new dog looks like it’s still coming out of puppyhood.

“Hey, girl,” he says, and the dog jerks backwards a little. It stares and then swirls around quickly, making sand fly from the impact of its little paws, and then stops and stares again. “Oh. Sorry, you’re a boy.”

Not too far off, Ryan’s friends are still enjoying the warm summer evening by the bonfire, and it sounds like Alex has gotten his guitar out. Ryan keeps sitting a bit further away, smoking a cigarette and now observing the dog that came running along the beach, coming to a weird abrupt stop at the sight of him.

The dog is now looking back and forth, like it’s hesitating – if dogs could, of course, but this one’s got an endearingly expressive face that is making Ryan smile wide. The dog then takes off, but he calls out, “Hey! Come here, boy! Don’t go yet!”

To his surprise, the dog stops and looks back.

“Aw, come on,” he says, trying to sound as sweet as he can. “Come here! I, uh. I’ve got snacks?” He feels around his pockets. The dog’s sat down facing him, tilting its head like it has to see this one. “I’ve got,” he says and pulls out a crumpled receipt. “Nothing. Um.”

“Ryan!” Nick’s voice comes, and he looks over his shoulder to see his bandmate coming towards him. Nick waves, and he does the same.

When Ryan looks back to the shore, the dog is gone. He looks around to see if he can see a splash of white running somewhere on the darkened beach, but he sees nothing. He gets up and dusts himself off, trying to get sand off the fabric of his pants.

Nick offers him a beer bottle. “What you doing, man?”

He takes a sip and looks along the beach. “There was this dog,” he explains. Nick lifts an eyebrow at him, and Ryan shrugs it off, pushing the thought out of his mind.

* * *

They’re packing up and stuffing sandy blankets into the back of the cars when Ryan sees the dog again. It couldn’t have gone too far, and they’ve got these sausage bites that they didn’t finish eating up. Ryan sees the dog moving back on the beach, a white dot slowly following the shoreline.

He quickly goes through the mostly empty picnic basket and stuffs the remains of their food into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says and runs back down the slope, past their dying bonfire. He slows down when he gets close, and the dog seems to be lost in its dog thoughts, not noticing him. He’s about to call the dog over, lure it with some delicious sausage, but then he realises that the dog’s limping, holding one front paw up as it wobbles along. Its ears are drooping and it’s got such an expression of sadness on its face that Ryan can feel his heart aching.

“Hey,” he calls out. The dog stops, looks his way, holding eye contact for a second, and then the dog starts running in the opposite direction as fast as it can, like a madman, or a mad dog, like Ryan needs to be avoided at all costs. “Hey!” he objects and dashes after it, sand flying, and it’s only because he’s got long legs and the dog is down one that he manages to reach the animal, launching himself at it and getting a hold of its back legs.

The dog yelps and barks, turning around and baring its teeth angrily. “No, hang on, wait,” he says, and the dog squirms as he gets on his knees and pulls the dog closer. “Don’t bite me, don’t –” The little bastard manages to take a nip of his thumb, but Ryan pulls the dog into his lap and holds it there securely until it stops struggling. “Okay. Shit, you’re a fighter,” he says through laboured breaths. The dog growls as a warning when he takes a hold of its left front paw, and he says, “I’m just gonna take a look, just...” He turns the paw gently until he sees a shard of glass stuck to it. “Ouch. You need this taken care of, huh?”