Chairs Beside a Fire

"All a dog wants is to be happy." 

He stroked the rolls back from the Labrador’s eyes. She was laying on the coupled chair next to his with her head draped over the edge. The fire had lulled her to sleep. 

“Tess, you big old bear. Even that tattered chair can put you to sleep.”

The man quietly laughed to himself, enjoying the warmth of the old creaking house. Winter winds challenged the fortitude of the exterior and while the white paint surrendered to the currents, the tiny house bore itself bravely.

It had been only two weeks since his son had stopped in for a visit. Boy! –had he grown into his shoes! And a handsome devil he turned out to be! “Definitely has my blood in him,” boasted the old man to himself. His son's wife wasn’t far from pretty either, but there was something the old man couldn’t put his finger on. Even Tess put a halt to her tail-wagging when the woman knelt to cuddle with her. Her shiny manicured nails and overwrought dress was a mismatch with his boy who had worked shirtless in the dirty fields of the farm during his youth. Dirt was something foreign to her.

“Aw,” he thought, “this isn’t my lesson to teach.”
Tess concurred with a wagging tail then licked his face in support.

Three days ago the boy left the old white house he had grown up in. Tess whined pitifully at the door, offering a chew toy in exchange for his return. She was his dog alright. He always wanted a golden lab to wrestle with, but when she got too old to win the fight, the boy found a new interest-- college. She sat at the door for months staring with those sad puppy eyes; those eyes that broke the old man’s heart. 

Tess was a good and gentle girl who would welcome in a robber with loads of licks. Just as the man was amusing himself with this thought, the wind blew a stick against the door with a loud bang. Tess’s head immediately shot up with raised ears. She was anticipating the heavy step of her friend, but her disappointed look melted the man’s heart as she stared at him imploringly. Her head dropped onto her paws and she licked her nose.

“I know, girl. I wish he’d come back, too. We’re getting old, aren’t we? So is this house, but I wouldn’t sell it for the world. I like the dirt in the corners and the smell of the fireplace. It has the smell of you and me, Tess. It takes many years to get a house smelling like you, and besides, these chairs have molded perfectly to our rumps. There’s no accomplishment like making a house your home.”

He stroked the rolls over her eyes as they lazily watched a spider scurrying across the wooden panels of the floor. It wasn’t long before she began to snore. The old man lay back in his chair, hypnotized by the fire.

“An old dog just wants to be happy,” he thought.

© Mikal Minarich