Come Home

Come Home
by Vivian Gilbert Zabel

         The homeless, unwanted pup, a mongrel, appeared part wolf, part collie, part shepherd. The shy, sensitive, small-for-his-age boy loved that cast-off pup the moment she lay in his arms. The dog immediately trusted the lonely boy.

         All that first summer the two explored hills and woods, growing and loving and becoming as close as only boy and dog can. No one ever asked why he named her Sugar; he simply did. The dog with love, care, and attention developed into a beautiful animal. The boy found he had a friend. He knew that whatever his shortcomings, Sugar loved and completely accepted him.

         When school started, the dog would lie beside the drive during the day, watching the road the yellow monster, with her boy inside, had taken . When at last the bus returned, boy and dog met in a joyous reunion. Until dark the two would spend their time in a private hide-a-way or took their favorite walk through woods and over hills. For hours they would sit together. While the boy talked unburdening his soul, the dog, her eyes full of adoration, would gaze into his face. When at last the words stopped, the dog, breathing a deep sigh, would lay her head in the boy’s lap. The boy, caressing the dog’s head, his troubles eased, viewed the distant horizon at peace in his mind. No matter what rejections or hurts the boy endured at school, his dog helped heal the pain.

         But one day no happy, barking, wagging body met the bus. No one ever knew what happened: Sugar was gone and never seen again. After the first night the boy never mentioned the dog, but everyday for weeks two anxious eyes searched the roadside to and from school, and a face pressed itself against the bus window as the bus pulled up at night. Every morning a concerned mother found a pillow damp from tears when she made the boy’s bed. Finally, the watching and looking ceased. The boy withdrew into his shell. His only release from his sorrow and pain remained the tear-stained pillow.

         Trying to comfort him, the boy’s parents took him on trips. His older sister and younger brother tried to share their pets and toys with him. At last he seemed to exit his shell and enjoy his world. He made friends with a boy who moved in with his parents up the road. He, however, wouldn’t accept another dog, and he would not talk about Sugar.

         Summer came again. One day in the woods a small boy’s voice called, “Come home, Sugar, please come home! Sugar, please come home. I need you! Come home, Sugar! Come home!”

         The only answer was the echo of his boyish voice crying, “Come home... come home... come home...”

         That night the boy’s parents decided to find him another dog, thinking another puppy might help heal the wound. When a friend told them he had a litter of American Eskimo puppies ready to wean, the parents drove to the friend’s house. Leaving the sleeping boy in the car with his sister and brother, the parents looked at the pups, chose one, and carried her out to the car.

         “Honey, wake up. Look what we have,” his mother called. The boy opened his eyes and slowly sat up, his hair tousled and his eyes sleepy.

         “Here.” His father placed a white fluff ball with soft brown eyes and a black button nose in the small boy’s lap.

         “Oh, oh, is it really mine?” asked the boy, his eyes now wide and shining as his arms gathered up the wagging bundle.

         “Yes, honey, she’s yours.”

         Another love affair began between boy and dog. He named her Sugar, and the name fit her as her white fur resembled spun sugar. The boy opened his heart again, and Sugar adored her boy.

         When school started, the boy feared leaving his dog, but after the months passed and she always met the bus, he forgot the nightmare of his first dog’s disappearance. He forgot his shyness and troubles as he romped and played with Sugar. Now, he, his dog, and, at times, his brother created a world of their own: tracking bandits, hunting wild animals, or living in the wilderness -- a world much nicer than the real one.

         Just before the end of the school year, Sugar gave her boy a wonderful gift, five fuzzy puppies. The boy in his excitement believed nothing could be as special as his Sugar. He promptly reported every change in the pups to the rest of the family. Oh, yes, the boy’s world had become a truly wonderful place.

         Then came the day the family arrived home from town to find the puppies but no Sugar. The boy, his parents, sister, brother searched and called; but Sugar couldn’t be found. The boy walked miles, until his small legs ached, looking and calling for his Sugar. He finally was persuaded to go to bed, his eyes full of pain and tears.

         Two days later, the boy and his brother slipped down to their favorite playing place at the creek behind the house. Suddenly he was running, crying, screaming to the house, “Momma! Momma! It’s Sugar! Momma, it’s Sugar! She’s dead! Momma, she’s dead! My Sugar! My Sugar!”

         As his mother tried to comfort the boy, his father ran to the creek where he found Sugar lying partially in the cold creek water. Her paws, worn and torn, appeared as if she had walked many miles. Other than her paws, no other injury or mark could be found. Apparently she had walked a very long way trying to get home that hot summer day, and when she hit the cold spring-fed creek, the shock killed her. It also killed the joy in one young boy.

         Once again the boy withdrew into a shell with his sorrow. Once again a tear-stained pillow became the only outlet for his pain. Once again his family tried to help him overcome his loss.

         Months passed; school started again. One day before Thanksgiving, his mother sat writing a letter when her son came and stood by the arm of her chair. After a few minutes of silence he solemnly announced, “I know what I would ask Santa Claus for if I still believed in him.”

         “Oh, really? And what would you ask for?” The mother looked at the serious face still rounded with baby contours.

         “A puppy like my Sugar was.”

         “You mean a white one?”

         “Yep, a white girl one. But there isn’t no Santa Claus.”

         His mother slid her arm around him. “Honey, you may just be surprised at what there is.”

         A frantic search began. Finally, a friend of a friend located a kennel that sold American Eskimos. The week after Thanksgiving, the parents chose another white fluffy ball of fur, arranging to pick her up on Christmas Eve.

         On the way home from the kennel, the father voiced the wish of both, “I hope nothing happens to this dog. I don’t know how Bobby could stand something happening to another one.”

         Christmas Eve finally arrived. After the children slept, the father brought in the special gift for the boy, depositing her in a bed in front of a large chair. The puppy, after sighting a huge stuffed bear under the Christmas tree, started barking.

         The boy, if he had heard the pup, must have thought her barking a part of his dreams because the next morning his surprise and excitement overcame any desire for his other gifts. For hours the only time the puppy’s feet touched ground was the brief periods she went outside. The rest of the time he carried her in his arms.

         Thus, Sugar number three became the boy’s number one interest. They became as close as only boy and dog are able. Day by day, Sugar eased the pain and fear of pain caused the loss of the previous Sugars.

         The years passed. Sugar had become a member of the family. She accepted the others, but she knew which member she owned -- her boy. She waited patiently when he left, whether to school or to ball practice or to ball games. When at home, he found her constantly by his side. If he wanted to play, she played; if he wanted to sit, she sat. As he grew older, their love for each other never waned but continued to grow.

         Over seven summers passed. Sugar was expecting puppies. The boy, now a sophomore in high school, had become a member of the football squad. Sugar always had her time with him before his daily pre-season practices.

         One afternoon, the mother arrived from work expecting her son to be waiting to go to football practice. Instead his sister and brother came out of the house to meet her.

         “What’s wrong? Where’s your bother?”

         “Mom, Sugar’s dead.” The sister's worried eyes begged her mother for help.

         “Oh, no! What happened? Does Bob know?”

         “He found her. She tried to have her puppies; something went wrong. They’re all dead.”

         “Where is he?”

         “In the bedroom. He won’t come out.”

         Sighing deeply, the mother left the car to go to her son. When she walked into his bedroom, he glanced up from where he sat on the side of the bed, his eyes full of tears and pain. As she sat down, hugging his broadening shoulders, she heard echoing through her mind a boyish voice calling, “Sugar, I need you! Please come home! Sugar, come home!” Once again, no answer returned.