Wes, the Terrible Terrier

“Ahhh! Ahhh! He`s chasing me! He`s going to eat me!“ I screamed as I tore through my Grandma’s home, tripping over chairs and dog food in my haste, with the ecstatic white terrier right at my heels. Wesley, a small West Highland terrier which seemed humongous to my five-year-old self, was having the most ferocious time of his life. I was running for my very life! The faster I ran, the faster he ran. When I ran out of breath, he pounced on me and trailed his disgusting, slobbering tongue all over my face. I shrieked in terror. He was panting with delight. His tail wagged non-stop. I tore away at my highest speed— and promptly tripped over a makeshift cardboard fence my thoughtful Grandma had placed in a doorway for my good. She hoped that the high cardboard would intimidate Wesley, and will be a safe haven for dog-crazed (literally) little girls like me.

I was on the other side of the fence, helplessly stuck on the ‘doggy side’. The white oblong ball of hair was on me in no time, pacing up and down my shaking, sprawled body. I yelled as hard as I could before his tongue located my face. He began to kiss me with his lolling tongue – dog kisses that I was totally disgusted with. My dad, who was weak from laughing so very hard, did what he could to rescue a crazy, shrieking damsel-from-distress, and helped me up and over the two-feet-high fence.

“Dogs will always run after you if you keep running. You have to stop!” Dad told me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The funny twitching at the corners of his mouth did not do me any good either. I still shook. “But—but—but– he’s going to eat me!” I wailed. “No, Odelia, he would not–”

I ran away at top speed before he could finish what reassuring sentence he was formulating. The snowy terror had leaped over the flimsy fence, and had continued the chase with renewed fervor. I dashed into the upstairs bathroom and closed the bath room tightly. “There,” I panted to myself, “That should keep him out.”

I underestimated my grandma’s dog’s intelligence completely.

Clicking toenails climbed steadily up the smooth, wooden stairs. The sound came ever closer, and my heart beat began to speed up. The sound came up to my closed bathroom door, and paused questioningly. A curious nose sniffed the door. Then the door knob turned. For two tense seconds, the horrifying thought—“Is Grandma’s dog that smart? — flashed across my mind.

A wet, pink tongue and black nose peeked around the door-frame. I shrieked in fear and hopelessness. Was this to be my remembrance of every visit to Grandma’s house? Was this dog going to be my tormentor forever? AHHHHH!

 

P.S. As of today, I love dogs soooo much—although I would much rather not be “kissed”.

 

Odelia

Bird against Cat

Swoop! Swish! Flap, flap, flap. Caw! Caw! Caw!

A mass of black feathers fell swiftly from the cloudless sky, then righted itself on a high clothes line. A pair of arrogant beady eyes peered down at a frustrated long-haired orange tabby cat. “Ta-ta! You can’t get me!“ strutted the back bird, cawing proudly. Chevy, on the grass, glowered at him, bristling his hairs. The raven swooped down teasingly again. Chevy leaped high into the air, but completely missed the feathered show-off. Chevy, dejected, hissed angrily at the proud, triumphant bird perched on the other side of the clothesline.

A lonely raven called in the distance. Chevy’s antagonist tilted his shiny head intently. “Na,” he thought, “This is way too fun. I’ll leave this ole’ catty soon enough.” With another boasting caw, the bird swerved down at an angle from the air—but not too quick for determined Chevy. This time, the bird lost five feathers from his once handsome right wing. Chevy did a little two-step—or rather, a little four step—while Mr. Raven screeched at the victorious feline.  Chevy crouched again, waiting. The bird swooped for the last time, losing another five feathers to Chevy’s lightning paws and strong, quick teeth. He flew away, angry, annoyed, but dignified.

Chevy danced a little again.

“Hey, this is a pretty good ending to such a nice day,” Chevy thought, as he stretched himself in the afternoon sun, “I caught a rat behind the rain barrel, a mother mouse in the barn, and now I almost caught a real, live raven! Yay!

Great job, Chevy boy—and farewell! Happy adventures!

From Darkness to Light (part 7)

“My darling, my darling,” he wrapped his arms lovingly around his daughter’s neck.

“Boy is the only young man whom I would ever allow to hand my dear daughter to. He is the noblest man I’ve ever met. So self-controlled too. I’ve known this was coming.” He released her with a smile, pinching her pink cheeks gently. “Who could not your charming smile?

“But I will miss my little girl—“

“Oh no, father,” Elizabeth cried,  “We will not leave you alone!! We will live…”

“Ah, so you already had a secret lover’s meeting?” he teased.

“No… Nothing, father, truly. Oh, has the sun set? He told me to…”

She left her sentence unfinished, and rushed through the door toward the orchard. Her heart beating rapidly, she walked slowly through the orchard.

Suddenly Boy was in front of her, with both of her hands in his. Looking into her eyes with his heart in his, Boy whispered softly, “I would like to be something more than a friend to you—something much more.” Her eyes dropped to the ground, her cheeks on fire. “I love you, Elizabeth, from the bottom of my heart. You are all the world to me.” He lifted her face to him for a moment, then got down on one knee.

“Elizabeth, I want share the rest of my life with you. Will you be my wife?”

She looked down searchingly into his earnest, blue eyes.  She felt the plain ring being slipped onto her finger—an engagement ring.

She could not refuse him.

Yes. She loved him.

“Yes– I do.” Tears chased themselves down her cheeks. “I will be your wife.”

He rose, and encircled her with his arms. She reached up, and wrapped d two soft arms around his neck. They leaned toward each other. His lips met hers for the first time. He pulled her closer to him, and kissed her again. “My darling, my treasure.” He whispered into her ear, stroking her shoulder with his right hand. “My man.” She whispered back, running her fingers down his cheek.

They stood there for a while longer, arms around each other, and their minds both wandering back to the day they met each other for the first time. A lot has changed.

“You asked me if I needed help in my journey,” boy murmured, without needing to explain when he was referring to.” Now, my journey has ended. Now I have come home. To you.”

The moon rose over the trees, like some mischievous onlooker to an intimate scene. They entered the quiet house, arm in arm.

Peace, joy, and love filled Boy’s once empty, bitter, hungry heart to overflowing. His struggle at life was over. Once and for all.

Love was his victory.

From Darkness to Light (part 4)

All night he struggled. And as the morning sun rose over the misty woods, a new life has begun. He could—he would—by God’s help forgive his tormentor.  He could put the past behind him and release Alexander from hatred—and perhaps win the girl that has innocently and unknowingly captured his heart.

Retracing his steps determinedly, he reached the small clearing again. As soon as he stepped into the bright sunlight, Alexander, who was on the porch searching for him, rushed to him with out-stretched arms.

“Boy! What have I done against you? Tell me, and I will beg your forgiveness! What have I done wrong?”

“You have done nothing wrong!” cried Boy. “It was my hatred against your brother—the man that—“

“What had he done to you?  I thought he had… but come. You must be famished. I will get Elizabeth to prepare something for you.”

“Elizabeth.” Boy whispered to himself in such tone that made his companion look at him keenly. So her name is Elizabeth.”

“Yes, and what a blessing she is!! Not yet 20 years old, but she managed everything here while I was away at war. But now I am ‘home, no more to roam”

“So I am not too old for her. Twenty four years old now, I am, and I look fifteen years older.”

Arm in arm, like old friends, the two men walked back into the house. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise at the peaceful countenance on the face of the desperate visitor of yesterday. But, as the wise woman she was, she prepared a meal wordlessly at a sign from her father.

Boy told them the pitiful story briefly, dwelling less on his prolonged imprisonment than on his painful wanderings in the forest. He told them what little he knew of his past. Except of the ring around his neck.

They invited him to lodge with them: the offer which he gladly accepted.

Thus two years passed happily, the first years of his life that he could remember being happy at all. The first time that he had a friend that he could speak to as the older brother he’d never had. And the first time that he felt love stirring in his awakened heart. Never had she been let to know and understand by his actions and glances that he loved her. No, Boy was diligently keeping his deep, agonizing feelings to himself. Even keen-eyed Elizabeth was unaware that she was kept in the treasure chest of his heart.