A Boy and a Dog

The man was old, too old to be starting out new, too old to be a father again, but he had promised. Promised his new wife they would start a family. She made him happy when he hadn’t thought that was possible. So that’s why she was in the small house with the midwife, and he was in the barn with the dog.

His son and the puppy were born on the same hot prairie night. He could hear his wife's suffering through the open windows. He tried to block it out. Make himself busy brushing the horse, helping the dog, although, dogs don’t really need help having pups. She was a good dog. Like him, kind of old to be having pups. Might be her last litter. He patted her white head and waited. Poor dog, she only had one puppy that night, but that was good. The man could only keep one. He was pure white, and the man named him Spirit.

The boy and the puppy grew up together. At first, the puppy took the lead, growing faster than the boy. So that when the boy learned to crawl, the puppy was twice his size. The boy crawled over the puppy, and under the puppy and the puppy didn’t seem to mind. In turn, the puppy nuzzled and licked the boy and the boy laughed. The boy used the puppy to steady his first steps. When he learned to talk, his first word was Rit, because Spirit was too hard to say. From then on, the dog’s name was Rit.

For a few years, times were good for the man and his second family. The crops grew and the boy and Rit grew too. Rit was full grown now; big, and pure white with piercing eyes. It was the boy that took the lead now and continued to grow and grow. The old dog, Rit's mother, died quietly in her sleep one night, but that was ok, it was her time. Rit took her place. He played with the boy and was company for the man as he tried to tame the wild prairie.

But the good times did not last, one year of drought followed another. The crops failed and the man said, well, next year there will be more rain. But it didn’t rain. The prairie dried up and the wind tried to blow it away. Gray with dust that would not wash out of his fur, Rit guarded over the boy and his family.

When the boy was five, the man’s wife died. Leaving the man and the boy and Rit. The boy stood in the shadow of the barn, out of the hot, relentless sun and the blowing dust. Hidden. Rit at his side, the boy watched the people come and go and didn’t understand why his mother was laying on the table wearing her Sunday dress. Rit stayed by the boy and watched them plant the boy’s mother in the dry earth.

*** My grandfather travelled extensively throughout the western United States during the 1920's. He took this picture on one of his western adventures. I do not know who the boy is or where the picture was taken.