A fictional short story about James and his companion. By Vanessa Ray-Zarate
“Come along, James,” Mrs. Winthrop called out as she fastened her peacock blue silk scarf around her beautifully sculpted pewter curls and delicately powdered face.
A small gray dog with brilliant blazes of white on his chin and eyebrows quickly finished the last bite of his toast and trotted along the hall to the foyer. James had “character”. He looked part feather duster and part dust bunny. One might think James was a rolling ball of dryer lint on the sidewalk until they were met by his jewel-like shiny black eyes and noticed his elegant, if a little short, sturdy legs.
He bowed gracefully at Mrs. Winthrop’s feet, and readied himself for the morning walk. His back legs performed a restrained two-step dance while his front legs ceremoniously stood at attention, a gesture made so Mrs. Winthrop could attach his long brown leather leash to his shiny red collar. “Good boy, James”, Mrs. Winthrop praised her four-legged companion with an air of dignity reserved for commending big dogs who find standing still a much simpler task. This made his tail happy.
The two met when James was not much bigger than a pair of balled-up socks but he remembers knowing that this person was his the moment her hands cupped his head and rump as she clasped him to her chest and declared that he was “beautiful”. Mrs. Winthrop carried him home on the bus, wrapped in a blanket and placed at the bottom of an old woven lunch basket. She pretended the high pitched whining was her reacting to the bumps on the road. “My arthritis,” she’d offer as she winced and gestured to her knee when curious fellow passengers glanced her way upon hearing the noises coming from her direction.
Mrs. Winthrop had no other puppies, nor did she have any cats (thank goodness), but she and James were just what each other needed to be a family. Mrs. Winthrop did seem to have a Mr. Winthrop in the home but James had never met Mr. Winthrop personally. James knew Mr. Winthrop must be very small and special and that he lived on the mantle; Mrs. Winthrop would only ever stand at the mantle where she put her small and special things when speaking to him.
Mrs. Winthrop would say things like, “Stanley Winthrop. You would have been knocked over by a feather if you saw what Evelyn McGillis wore to church this morning. It’s not been two years since her Ian left this world, God rest his soul, and she’s dressed like a trollop. Susan and I couldn’t help but laugh all the way through Reverend John’s sermon on living with restraint.” She would chuckle to herself for a moment or two, sigh happily, and say, “that’s enough gossip for now. You’re a bad influence, Stanley. What are we teaching young James? He’s very impressionable.” James would wiggle gleefully as Mrs. Winthrop would turn to him to say, “Oh, James. How silly I am.”
James loved Mrs. Winthrop, silliness and all. He knew that Mr. Winthrop must be silly and loving because Mrs. Winthrop only kept the best kind of company, even if her circle was quite small and of mixed sizes and species (cats excluded, of course).
James followed Mrs. Winthrop slowly down the small set of steps of their cozy orange brick bungalow. They switched positions at the bottom of the stairs so James could respectfully guide Mrs. Winthrop down the path to the city sidewalk. He knew that she thought she was walking him but in fact, he was walking her. He held his head at a bit of an upward tip as though in a royal procession and Mrs. Winthrop was the Queen.
Mrs. Winthrop and James were creatures of habit. Their daily routine was predictable but perfect as far as they were concerned. First, the duo would share a healthy breakfast of tea, boiled eggs, and toast (and kibble for James, much to James’ dislike). Next they read the daily newspaper aloud (Mrs. Winthrop would do the reading as James knew she enjoyed reading more than he did). Then they would get ready for their mid-morning walk. While passing by the Garrisons’ house at the end of their street they would pause to allow the youngsters to pat James. They would not always be outside but when they were, James would shamelessly roll onto his back to allow for proper belly rubs. There was never enough time given to this part of their walk, James firmly believed.
Next, the duo would walk along Maple Avenue to the grocer’s where Mrs. Winthrop was warmly greeted. She often bought that day’s finest cut of meat for dinner. If Anthony was working, James would receive a cube of cheese for valiantly walking his Mrs. Winthrop. If Sheila was working, he would receive a smile and a pat on the head. James preferred Anthony.
If while on their walk Mrs. Winthrop and James came across the miscreants of the animal kingdom, known to humans as cats, James would make his low opinion of them known. Mrs. Winthrop would hush him and ask him to mind his manners. She would then give a wink while calling him a “grumpy old gossip.”
The pair would make their way back home. Mrs. Winthrop would carry James up the steps, hang up her scarf and coat beside James’ leash, place their dinner in the fridge, and carry on with the daily tasks. A perfect post-walk routine included drinking tea, cuddling on the recliner to watch The Price is Right, and sharing a tuna sandwich. The afternoon would wrap up with a nap together. Mrs. Winthrop would choose to sleep on her bed. James in his own bed would find himself chasing cats in a most beautiful dream.
After a beautiful dinner for two, they would take their evening stroll through the park nearby. Mrs. Winthrop would chat with young folks out walking their dogs at the same time. She always remembered what was going on in the lives of some of their favorite pairs: Mindy and Cindy (James wasn’t sure who was Mindy and who was Cindy between the tiny woman and her very large lab mix), Juan and Chula (James knew that Chula was the small tawny colored chihuahua as Juan was always pleading for “Chula” to “be nice” when they stopped to say hello), and Raymond and Buttons (James was fairly certain the older man was named Buttons as “Raymond” seemed to suit the small black poodle most).
Some might say their lives were boring or lonely but Mrs. Winthrop and James truly enjoyed their time together. Their days were just the right mix of chatting and patting.
Today’s walk would be the same as those they had taken these past eleven years, although there were a few changes over the years. The Garrisons had even more children, some now only home for holidays. Some food changed at the grocer’s and they no longer sold Mrs. Winthrop’s preferred jam. Local dogs and people moved away and others became new favorites. Mrs. Winthrop and James were not bothered by the changes, even if it meant fewer belly rubs at times and a bit more silver in their fur. The two were slowing down. They would sometimes forgo an after dinner stroll in favor of a quick piddle on the lawn and early bedtime. They were the best of friends no matter what the day or their knees called for.
One morning a few days past James’ 16th birthday, Mrs. Winthrop sat quietly at the table and drank her tea without her customary egg and toast. A few moments passed when James made the most unusual observation: Mrs Winthrop had not put a slice of toast with his favorite strawberry jam in his bowl. Nor had she poured out a small scoop of his terribly bland kibble he was polite enough to eat every morning. Perhaps she didn’t see him there, James thought. He nudged her foot. She did not seem to notice. He gave a peppy bark. She did not seem to hear him. Instead she sighed as she tied her favorite scarf around her face, tucking slightly unkempt curls out of sight. She fastened her blue wool coat slowly, gave her foyer a pained glance, and lowered her head as she headed out the door.
If James were any other dog, he might have run away when unleashed at the door but he knew what was required of him and quickly slipped out of the house behind her. Perhaps he no longer needed a leash but the freedom did not lead James to poor decision making. In fact, he was so dutiful and aware of their routine that he was quite surprised when they did not stop at the Garrisons’ front yard for belly rubs. Mrs. Winthrop must be in quite the hurry to get to the grocer’s today, James assured himself.
The two made their way along Maple Avenue but James was beginning to wonder if Mrs. Winthrop was unwell. Perhaps she had eaten a houseplant. She was rather quiet and was not asking James to ignore dastardly cats who had dared to cross their path. He decided today he must be on his best behavior. When they arrived at the grocer’s, Anthony greeted Mrs. Winthrop but did not give one moment’s notice to James. He must be worried about Mrs. Winthrop as well. Now is not the time to be sensitive about who gets a hello and a sneaky piece of cheese, James reminded himself. Anthony used some strange words but a few James knew for sure were “oh dear” and “good dog”. Mrs. Winthrop tucked her smaller-than-usual parcel of meat into her pocket and the two made their way home.
After putting the dinner in the fridge, Mrs. Wintrop sat at her table and sniffled as she drank her tea. They must be out of cookies, James thought. They can add that to their shopping list. Next, the two sat in their favorite chair, as usual, only Mrs. Winthrop did not turn on the television. Instead, she looked out the window for some time before deciding to move on to a nap.
She bent down to run her fingers over James’ bed and said, “my sweet boy” before she laid down on her bed. With her hands over her face her body gently shook. James did not know what Mrs. Winthrop was doing but it felt very different from anything he had seen her do before.
It reminded him of how he felt when he hurt his paw and Mrs. Winthrop carried him all the way to the veterinarian’s office for a special bandage. It also felt like the time when Mrs. Winthrop went to visit her sister in another city and the Garrisons looked after James. They were friendly enough but he remembered how it felt that she was gone.
James felt a pulling towards Mrs. Winthrop, as though she had a sore paw. Perhaps she needed a cuddle from James to make it better.
Somehow James was able to get onto the bed by himself, something he had never been able to do before. He placed his paw on her arm. Suddenly she stopped shaking. He nudged her hand. She moved her hands slowly off her face. He nuzzled her damp cheek. She slowly sat up in her bed, her hands patting the bed around her, her eyes searching the room.
“James?” she whispered. He barked. “James?” she called out again, shakily, this time with a soft smile on her face. “I can feel you, my sweet boy.”
James wasn’t sure why Mrs. Winthrop couldn’t hear him so he jumped on her lap and put his front paws on her chest. He barked again.
“Oh, James. How I miss you!” Mrs. Winthrop quietly offered to the space around her. She paused before continuing. “Thank you for being such a wonderful little friend and my only family for so many years.” Tears streamed down the creases in her cheeks. “I miss you so very much.” She reached up and wiped her face. “I will find you when it’s my turn.”
James understood. Without realizing it, he had become the warmth of sunshine. She might be able to feel him but James was no longer someone Mrs. Winthrop could see. He believed he had been a good dog. Mrs. Winthrop had been the most wonderful friend any pup could have dreamt of. He wished he could tell her this.
He pressed his head against her chest. Mrs. Winthrop eased her body back onto the bed and pulled her blankets up around her shoulders. She fell asleep with her hands holding one another tightly. James curled up quietly in the crook of her knees.
For many more birthdays, James stayed by Mrs. Winthrop’s side, occasionally testing to see if she could see or hear him. She never could. They would go for their walks to town and watch The Price is Right and have their naps together. James was not the least bit upset that he no longer got chunks of cheese, cookies, or halves of sandwiches. In fact, he took his job all the more seriously without treats.
Mrs. Winthrop also seemed to take her job more seriously and made sure he was never left out. She would point out things to James as they made their way into town for their daily shop. At the grocer’s, she would comment to him about tonight’s meal. How delicious such a fine cut of meat will be. She even invited James to join her at church, though she was careful not to gossip with him about what Evelyn McGillis wore on any particular Sunday.
His favorite time of the day was always in the evening when Mrs. Winthrop would read her book aloud. She would chuckle at some parts and tell James to stop blushing as it was only a story. James loved hearing Mrs. Winthrop laugh most of all. Then she would say good night and he would nestle in beside her. Surely she could feel just how happy he was to be there with her.
One morning, James awoke in Mrs. Winthrop’s bed but Mrs. Winthrop was not making funny whistle sounds through her nose. He moved to get a better look at her face and noticed that while this person looked like her, she didn’t feel like Mrs. Winthrop. James went to see if she was in the kitchen making herself a boiled egg and toast. She wasn’t there.
He searched their favorite spots — the foyer, bathroom, chair by the window, and the recliner by the television. Mrs. Winthrop was nowhere to be found. After a while, he wandered back to their bedroom and decided he ought to wait for her there. He couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Winthrop was there, sitting on the bed, right next to the person sleeping there. She was the color of the sunshine that peeks over the hill in the park just as the sun awakens to paint the sky, a glory only some are lucky enough to see. She looked at him and smiled so lovingly that he was filled with a golden warmth. He was radiant with the same light coming from Mrs. Winthrop. She reached her arms out and he jumped up to greet her enthusiastically. She held him before her for a moment in disbelief before hugging him tightly.
They were together again and all was as it should be. “Good boy, James.”
