Page 57 of Beau

With only the starlight shining through the window of an open bedroom door to guide him, Beau held the gun in one hand and reached for the kitchen light switch.

Aurelie inched up behind him as he flipped the switch.

Light flooded the kitchen. A high-pitched yelp sounded.

Beau rounded the corner, Aurelie behind him.

He pointed the gun at the overturned trash and something hiding in the corner behind it. Too small to be a human, the creature hid behind the trash container a pale, brownish blob, visibly shaking.

Beau aimed the gun at the animal. “Stay back, it might be rabid.”

The blob moved, darted out of its hiding place and ran straight for Beau and Aurelie.

As Beau aimed, Aurelie reached out and brought his hand down. “Don’t.”

She dropped to her haunches. When she did, the creature launched itself at her.

“Watch out!” Beau called out.

Aurelie opened her arms as the small animal leaped at her.

She fell backward, the animal landing on her chest.

“Aurelie!”

She struggled for a moment to grip the animal in her hands, her body shaking as she set the wiggling, mass of matted hair at arm’s length. “What have we got here?” she said, staring through an impossible tangle of dirty brown fur at a black, button nose and a hint of black eyes buried in overgrown fur. “Are you a dog?” she asked, her eyes clouding with tears. “You poor baby. You can’t even see through all that hair.” She pulled the creature close as it snuggled against her, shivering in the heat.

Beau lowered his gun and sat on the floor beside Aurelie. “Are you sure it’s a dog?”

“I think so,” she said. “But it’s so matted, it’s hard to tell. Do you think it belonged to Old Man Pearson?”

“I can ask my mother in the morning. In the meantime, it’s a biohazard. I’m sure it’s covered in fleas and ticks and who knows what else.”

“We have to do something for it. I can feel it’s ribs through the matting. All the hair makes it look bigger than it is. I bet it doesn’t weigh more than seven or eight pounds. I wonder how long it’s been running wild.” She pushed to her feet, the animal in her arms.

“If it was Pearson’s dog, surely he had some way of trimming its fur. I can’t imagine he’d let it get this out of control while he was alive.” Beau searched the cabinets, drawers and pantry for a set of clippers. He entered the laundry room and went through all the cabinets, finally finding an old pair of electric clippers.

“Thank God,” Aurelie said.

“We should do this out on the porch.” He carried the clippers outside, found an electric socket and plugged in the clippers.

Aurelie let go of the breath she’d held, praying the clippers would work. She held the pup while Beau sheared the matted hair off its body, a little at a time, careful not to nick its skin. When he was done, Aurelie looked down at a tiny, naked dog with big black eyes and a black nose.

“It’s a female,” Beau said. “She’ll need a bath next. You’ll need to drown the fleas and pluck the ticks.”

Aurelie carried the dog to the kitchen where she filled the sink with warm water and placed the animal in it. Using dish soap, she scrubbed what was left of its fur, making the water cloudy with the dirt and grime she’d collected while running wild.

When she was sure the fleas were dead, Aurelie emptied the sink and rinsed the dog’s fur once more.

Beau found a bowl, poured some of the dog food they’d found in the pantry into it and set it on the floor. He handed a towel to Aurelie.

After drying the animal, Aurelie set her on the floor and watched as the little, now white, dog wolfed down the food Beau had given her.

Aurelie’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. “She was starving. Look at those ribs.”

“I never would have believed she was white.” Beau shook his head. “What do you think she is?”

“Now that she’s not matted, her hair is soft. I’d say she’s maybe a mix between a poodle and maybe a Maltese?”

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