by Iorhael
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction. Yadda… yadda… yadda…
You stood in front of the dining table, unmoving. Your two skinny legs trembled as they tried to support your shaking body. Your eyes were cast down, involuntarily watching how the fingers of both your hands gripped and played with the tablecloth, as if they were ready to tear it to pieces. Across from you, at the other end of the table, sat a hard-faced woman, unyielding, even to the tears welling on the rims of your eyes.
She was your mother.
Although only a thirty-something lady, the toughness of life had taught her not to give in too easily to a weepy son. Her own son. A ten-year old. Asking her only for a puppy. A puppy for his birthday gift.
The woman never ceased from her own activity, stitching the cut-down clothes. Your big brother's old clothes, to be worn by you to school tomorrow.
A sudden, brief movement in the corner of your eyes startled you. You let go of the tablecloth, rubbed the unshed tears, and turned to the partially open door to your right. Through the narrow slit you caught a familiar shadow of a slightly bigger form peeping in. You threw a glance to your mom and back again to the door. You knew it was your older brother, whose clothes would be yours in a short while.
You heard a soft hiss coming from him and a quick, “get down here!”
You hesitated for a moment, torn between curiosity and your determination to try your luck further on your mother.
“Gabe, you stupid!” wheezed your brother. “What are you doing there?”
Eventually, reluctantly, you dragged your feet away from the table. From your mom. From the room.
Your brother took your wrist a bit too roughly when you got to him.
“What?” You winced but you dared not protest for your brother was the only one who always cared for you.
You both went to the front yard and your brother turned to you.
“It’s a friend of mine. His mom’s a vet and his house is always full of pets. Just thought I would bring you some time to have a look. They won’t mind.”
Your eyes widened in excitement. Seeing those cute animals with the possibility of coddling them? You asked your brother the question and he nodded, grinning heartily.
“We can ask.”
You didn't waste a single minute. Luckily your brother did not have any homework to do and neither did you. He took his bike and in a moment you found yourself sitting behind him as he pedaled lightly down the road to his friend’s house.
The house was big and the fence was high. Your brother stopped and found the bell, ringing it immediately. You felt as if you were in a dream as events went on: someone opened the big gate, let you and your brother in, showed you the way to the vet’s office, led you to the back room where there were many - many - caged animals.
And your eyes stopped right there - at a compact, short-backed pom. And your brother knew immediately that it would take a mighty effort to pull you out of the place.
You heard yourself whisper, “Dad would gladly buy me this if he was still here.”
And your brother’s compassionate look toward you went unnoticed.
* * *
That night you dreamed. You knew it was a dream for you could not see anything farther than ten steps from you. Around you was a complete blur. You saw nothing but a dog and your father standing before you. You inhaled sharply and reached out. Yes, he was your father. But again, unfortunately, this was only a dream.
And you knelt down, fingers brushing lightly at the long, straight, glistening, and coarse coat of the dog. The dog was quite small. A Pomeranian. Your favorite kind.
“Mine?” you croaked, looking up at your father. He smiled and lowered down himself.
“I thought you'd love it. Yes, it’s yours.”
And you laughed, its sound almost hysterical. You gathered the puppy in your arms and you gave a tight hug.
Your father ruffled the straw-colored hair on the dog's round head.
“Do you know that a pom descended from the sled dogs of Iceland and Lapland?”
You shook your head, looking clearly amazed at the new-found knowledge.
“They did,” nodded your father. “Just feel it. It might be small but if you feel the legs, their length is in proportion to a well-balanced frame and they are sturdy.”
You smiled and did what your father asked. Seeing for yourself that he was right, you sighed and brought the dog to your face, kissing its muzzle lovingly. The dog whimpered a little and nuzzled at your cheek, looking pleased.
“Thank you Papa,” you mumbled, rising with the dog settling warmly against your chest. “I knew you would give me one.”
“Ssshh. Now, what will you name him?”
You were silent for a while, and a smile reappeared.
“Danke. Because I’ll always be grateful for the gift.”
And with you deep in your slumber, you failed to notice the squeaking little creature put in the bed beside you by your kind big brother.
“Danke. Hmm,” muttered your brother. You must have spoken the word out loud. “That’s not a bad name for a dog.”
And your brother smiled in satisfaction, caring not for all the work he needed to do to pay for the puppy.
End