The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge

by Jim Kraus

  “One last question: Was there, or is there, any other dog rescue or animal shelter adopting out dogs in Lewisburg?”

  Judy scowled.

  “No. And that’s just such a darned shame. We were the only ones doing it. And thanks to somebody spending our money on a crappy RV that I hope breaks down in the middle of the desert, no one is doing what we did in Lewisburg. Now people have to drive over to Sunbury or Reading. Thanks a heap, Emily.”

  “And did you ever do any business with a man named Bill Hoskins at your shelter?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “Thank you, Judy. You have been so very helpful.”

  Judy tried to smile.

  “And if you manage to track Emily down, let me know. Or just punch her in the nose for me, okay?”

  The screen went black.

  Heather slipped the phone into her suit pocket and smiled a sugar-coated smile at Bargain Bill, who looked more than a little nervous.

  Actually, he looked a whole lot nervous, as if he were trying to think of some way out of this obvious dilemma.

  “It appears, Mr. Hoskins, these dog rescue women never saw Hubert before. And never saw you. And since she never had him, Hubert could never have been adopted out—not by you, not by anyone.”

  Bargain Bill swallowed hard.

  “And it appears that your telling the good citizens of Wellsboro that he was yours is a very elaborate falsehood. In other words, you lied. To the public. That is not a good character trait for a man who sells used cars for a living, now, is it?”

  Bargain Bill narrowed his eyes. Then he put on his best car salesman smile.

  “Okay. You got me. Now what do you want?”

  Mayor Witt banged on the table a dozen times, thinking that the muffled gavel sounds were hard to hear over the general rumbling of the crowd. Slowly, they began to make their way back to their seats, virtually all of them now holding a white foam cup filled with Lutheran coffee.

  “Okay, everyone, sit down. We’re about to start again.”

  Hardly anyone paid attention, but eventually, the crowd quieted.

  “Okay, now, we’re back in session.”

  He hit the gavel on the table one more time, as if a gavel banging made a meeting official.

  Before anyone spoke again, Bargain Bill stood up. He stood slowly, as if he really did not want to stand, but both Heather and Lisa were staring at him. Heather had taken her phone and held it where Bargain Bill could see it—just in case he decided to change directions on them.

  Lisa reached over and grabbed Stewart’s arm and hugged him close to her, and smiled down at Hubert and gave his head a gentle pat.

  She leaned up and whispered something in Stewart’s ear and Stewart responded with a most quizzical look.

  Bargain Bill paced a few steps.

  He started off by saying, solemnly, “Your Honor…”

  “Mr. Mayor is fine, Mr. Hoskins. I’m not a judge. I sell insurance, remember?”

  Bargain Bill offered a weak smile.

  “Mr. Mayor…”

  He grew silent for a long moment, and looked as if he were thinking deep thoughts. Then suddenly his eyes opened wide as if a wonderful new thought had entered his consciousness, a liberating, freeing thought.

  He turned to the crowd and opened his arms.

  “First, I am publicly stating that I, personally, will pay whatever fine, or special fee, the city council deems right to levy against the actions of this poor dog. And I will pay for every piece of merchandise that he took from the Tops Market. As owner and operator of Bargain Bill’s Dynamite Used Cars on Route 287 at Charleston Street, I have always tried to do what is best and sometimes I let my heart get in the way of my head.”

  He looked down at his hands.

  Heather leaned over to Lisa and whispered, “He’s good.”

  “I can see that a bond has developed between the dog and Mr. Coolidge, who rescued him from the streets,” Bargain Bill continued.

  This is when Bargain Bill choked up and put his fist to his mouth as if he were holding back a sob.

  “I have to admit to you—to all of you—my friends and family and customers and citizens of Wellsboro…that I have misled you. On purpose. A good purpose, but I have not been honest.”

  No one expected a loud, collective gasp to ripple across the audience, but that was what happened.

  “The poor dog there…he was never my dog.”

  Another gasp, this one a little less gaspy.

  “I lied to you. And do you know why I lied?”

  He let the audience hang there for a long moment.

  Heather leaned over again to Lisa and whispered, “I take that back. This guy is really good.”

  “I lied to try and save this poor American dog from death. I thought I could make a difference in a poor dog’s life. When Mr. Arden began offering a reward, I was terrified that they would catch the dog and put him to sleep.”

  He paused, theatrically.

  “And I could not live with myself if that happened.”

  He sniffed loudly.

  “So, I made up the story that the dog was mine. To save his life. To make sure he had a home. And now that he has found a loving home…”

  Bargain Bill’s voice cracked.

  “I am happy. He has found what he was looking for. A home.”

  The audience had been on the edge of their seats. Normally, to find this sort of emotion, people would have to pay twelve dollars for a ticket at the Arcadia Community Theater.

  “We have saved this poor animal from death. And that alone is my reward.”

  And then the audience stood, a few at first, then most everyone, and applauded. Some even cheered.

  And Bargain Bill raised his head and looked skyward.

  This time Lisa leaned over to Heather and whispered, “This is great publicity for him, isn’t it?”

  Heather nodded. “He is very, very good. And this will make a dynamite segment. Absolute dynamite.”

  The mayor tried to bring the meeting back under control, but after everyone rose in their seats and began swarming over Bill and Stewart and Heather Orlando and Hubert, he decided that it was no longer necessary.

  He turned to Paul Hatch, the city clerk, and nearly shouted over the noise.

  “Issue a fine—or a fee, for one hundred dollars. Make sure he pays for the stolen merchandise. And make sure the young man with the dog buys a dog license, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  “And we can call this meeting closed, okay?”

  “We can.”

  Stewart and Lisa hugged in the midst of the crowd while Hubert bounced and barked in happiness. Heather was busy signing autographs and having pictures taken with the mayor and every member of the city council. Even the Tops attorney, Robert Kruel, asked for a picture and an autograph. The Action News camera crew was busy getting all sorts of feel-good images of the dog and the citizens lined up to pet him and Bill Hoskins beaming and shaking everyone’s hand—while passing out business cards, of course.

  The only person who immediately left the meeting was Mr. Arden.

  Once he saw that there would be no justice served, he stormed out in a huff, mumbling to himself about backwoods kangaroo courts and pea-brained elected officials, wondering if he could force a stock boy to remove all the posters and how he might mark that on the official time sheets that were turned in weekly to the central office.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  STEWART ROSE exceptionally early the next morning, still excited and happy over the outcome of the previous night’s meeting. He actually had had to go to the mayor, after he was done taking pictures with Ms. Orlando, and ask him what the council decided.

  “That means I get to keep Hubert?”

  The mayor, who looked as relieved as anyone at the meeting, grinned. “It means you keep the dog, Mr. Coolidge. But stop by city hall tomorrow and buy a dog license. It’s eight dollars and forty-five cents. But two dollars less if the dog is—you know—
fixed.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, thanks so much.”

  This morning, both Stewart and Hubert had been up well before sunrise. Stewart had his necessary cup of instant coffee while Hubert sat next to the kitchen table, grinning and watching him.

  “Looks like we’re a team now, Hubert. Officially.”

  Hubert started to wiggle, just a bit, and that wiggling backside had always preceded his full-bounce dance of happiness.

  “You should be happy, Hubert. You don’t know how close you came to being given to Mr. Hoskins. Or worse. Really. That could have happened.”

  Hubert was having none of that. His eyes indicated that he never had any doubt that he and Stewart were somehow meant to be together.

  “I bet you think it’s all part of God’s master plan for my life, don’t you?”

  At this, Hubert did bounce, and dance, and growl with happy growls, his backside almost overtaking his front paws as he maneuvered about the kitchen, his nails making small tap-dancing sounds on the smooth linoleum floor.

  “How could you be so sure, Hubert?” Stewart asked. “I mean, you’re a dog, and dogs don’t understand faith and God and all that.”

  Hubert abruptly stopped all movement. He actually appeared hurt.

  Stewart saw his eyes. He thought he could see a reflection of disappointment.

  “You do understand?”

  Hubert bounced and growled.

  “And you know about God and faith and stuff?”

  Hubert looked hard at Stewart, then began to bounce again, smiling.

  Then the dog stopped.

  “And this was part of the plan all along? Your plan?”

  And Hubert danced and growled his way around the kitchen and did not stop until Stewart, laughing, got out his leash and put on his shoes.

  Spring had turned to summer during the dog’s thievery streak and the mornings grew warmer and the walks longer. Hubert trotted along, smiling, looking back over his shoulder every so often, as if to make sure Stewart was following him. When Hubert saw that his walking companion was still with him, he smiled, and turned back to sniffing and exploring as they walked.

  They walked along the nearly empty streets of town, and when the dawn colored the sky red, Stewart made a left turn and headed back home.

  “Time for breakfast, Hubert. You hungry?”

  Hubert bounced up and down, indicating that he might be nearly famished, even with the two celebrative real hot dogs he ate last night.

  Stewart added a cup and a half of kibbles to Hubert’s dish and Hubert looked back at him as if to ask, “Where are the hot dogs this morning?”

  “Hot dogs are only for special events, Hubert, not a steady diet.”

  Hubert waited another moment, just to make sure Stewart was absolutely serious about that new dietary restriction that Hubert had not agreed to.

  Obviously.

  Stewart did appear totally serious, and Hubert methodically nibbled on his food, taking a long time to eat.

  Stewart made himself another cup of coffee and was about to sit down in the living room and watch the sky brighten when he heard a very faint, very soft, tapping at his door.

  Lisa stood there, in shorts and an oversized man’s shirt, appearing as if she might have slept in those last night.

  “Do you have any tea?”

  Stewart heated water and Lisa greeted Hubert with a long hug of celebration, which Hubert appeared to expect that morning.

  When the tea was ready, Stewart added twenty seconds of microwave to his coffee, so his coffee and her tea would be at the same temperature.

  They sat in the two chairs in the living room.

  Lisa sipped her tea and remained silent, appearing to be deep in thought. Stewart didn’t mind. He just liked having her near.

  “I have some big news,” she said, almost with a hint of fear, or perhaps regret, in her words.

  Stewart waited. He had a good idea what that news might be. His heart hurt, just a little, but he had steeled himself for every eventuality.

  People leave. I have to accept that.

  “Heather Orlando…she offered me a job. As her assistant producer.”

  “In Pittsburgh?”

  Lisa thought Stewart was being funny and smiled, then realized he considered the question legitimate.

  “Yes. In Pittsburgh. On the Action News team.”

  Stewart maintained a calm exterior, but his interior was suddenly in turmoil.

  How do I respond?

  “That sounds like your dream job.”

  “It is. It’s not reporting, but I’ll be working on a news show. This is huge, Stewart. Huge.”

  “That sounds great,” he said, hoping he sounded truthful.

  Hubert arrived in the living room, his chin still dripping water from his after-kibble drink. He looked at Stewart and tilted his head as if not understanding something. Then he looked at Lisa, stared for a moment, and whimpered. Then he lay down between them, a little bit away, so that he could see both of them without turning his head.

  After a long period of silence, Lisa said, in a mouse-small voice, “Come with me.”

  Stewart had not expected those words, nor that request. None of it matched his daydreams of the past several months.

  “But I don’t have a job. I mean, I don’t have a job in Pittsburgh.”

  Lisa leaned forward in her chair, suddenly very earnest. “You could work at a Giant Eagle store if you had to. Or you could go back to school at Pitt. They offer a degree in law enforcement. I looked it up last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Stewart listened, totally unsure what to say next.

  I guess they need bag boys in Pittsburgh, too.

  Hubert whimpered and looked at Stewart with deep, serious eyes.

  “But…what about us?”

  Lisa’s bottom lip trembled, just a quiver or two.

  “We are a couple, aren’t we?” Stewart added. “I mean…we’re us, now. Right?”

  Lisa smiled and nodded.

  “We are, Stewart, we are. Us. Me and you. I love you, Stewart.”

  Hubert stood up and growled and whimpered and looked for all the world as if he were trying to tell Stewart something important. He walked over to Stewart and butted his thigh with his head, like he was trying to impart some wisdom to Stewart—or like he was simply telling Stewart to “wake up and smell the coffee.”

  Even if it was instant.

  “Well…” Stewart began, then he paused.

  Hubert barked, twice, very seriously, very firmly, and stared at Stewart, then at Lisa, and then back at Stewart.

  “Well, I love you. So we should get married,” Stewart finally said.

  Lisa smiled. She more than smiled, but that was all her face could do that early in the morning.

  “Stewart, that’s what I was thinking, too.”

  Epilogue

  LISA CLIMBED the steps to the apartment, on the third floor of a grand old Victorian—this one well maintained and freshly painted, in Shadyside, just to the east of the campus of the University of Pittsburgh, and only a fifteen-minute bus ride from the Action News studio. She walked softly, almost on tiptoe, and carefully inserted the key into the door, hoping it would not click too loudly.

  She nudged the door open and peered inside.

  Lying in a pool of afternoon sunlight, on the couch they’d bought at the resale shop in Wilkinsburg, was Hubert, his paws hanging over the edge of the cushions, his head resting on the thickly padded arm of the sofa.

  He was snoring.

  She crept up to the couch and sat down beside him. He snorked once, and raised his head, and when he saw it was Lisa, he smiled and growled a happy greeting, his tail wagging.

  “Don’t get up, Hubert.”

  He didn’t.

  She sat, quiet, next to the dog, stroking his side. Hubert’s eyes closed. In a moment, Lisa was asleep as well, a quick afternoon catnap for the both of them.

  Ten minutes later, the door opened again.
This time it was not opened silently. Stewart walked in, wearing a gray police academy sweatshirt.

  Lisa jumped up and hugged her husband and he hugged her back and Hubert stretched, allowing them to have their private greeting, which they apparently enjoyed, and then he slowly made his way off the couch, grinning and growling and dancing about the living room, surrounded by the two people who loved him and the two people whom he loved in return.

  And at that most perfect of moments, at that most clear and wondrous of moments, the two most important humans in Hubert’s world stood together, his world now complete—and he basked in the smile of his Creator in the warm afternoon sunshine on the third floor of a house just east of Pittsburgh.

  Reading Group Guide

  Hubert, the good dog, did not really have a human understanding of God—yet helped Stewart find his way to faith. Do you think God would use an animal—like Hubert—to draw people closer to Him?

  It seemed as if all the main characters in the story had a painful past—Lisa, Stewart, and Hubert. Do you think that pain prevented them from finding the truth—or helped them find the truth?

  Lisa assumed that Stewart had a faith in God simply because he had a Verse-a-Day calendar in his apartment. Was she simply fooling herself or did she truly believe that was all it took to indicate a belief in God? Does that say something about Lisa’s spiritual maturity?

  When Stewart “finds” Hubert and takes him in, he seems to realize that he is skirting the law, if not breaking it outright. Is breaking the law, or staying silent about a “crime,” ever the proper thing for a believer to do?

  Obviously, Stewart had some unpleasant experiences and memories of the church that his mother attended after leaving the family. With that in his background, were you surprised at his willingness to go to church with Lisa? Or do you think it was simply an attempt to get closer to her without having any intention of paying attention to what was preached in her church?

  Stewart’s grandmother is an obviously controlling, negative person. How was Stewart finally able to stand up to her and establish his own independence? Was it his relationship with Lisa—or Hubert—that helped him most?