Star Composed--Star Story Number 3

Gloria Shepherd amazed herself, the distance she walked now. The first week she had her border collie (she had never even heard of “border collie” dogs before she acquired Star the previous month), she had barely hobbled with the dog on a leash to the end of the road in front of her house and turned back with her, shuffling, at times, it would not even be an exaggeration to say staggering, home. Fortunately, Star, her pretty dog—it took about a day before “her dog” fell easily from her lips—didn’t seem to mind short walks as long as she could spend some time in the small back yard. By intuition, Star seemed to know the limits of the yard’s boundaries. As the two of them continued to walk, Gloria found herself able to go a few steps further each outing. Then they started two strolls a day. Faster than Gloria would have believed possible, the ‘strolls’ morphed somehow into true hikes.

Well, hikes for Gloria.

The old woman found herself moving with more ease than she had in years, able to rise and sit from her paisley knitting chair beside the small table that had for weeks held her diminutive Christmas tree, but now just held pictures of Christopher, her son, and, more recently, the picture of Star she took on one of the walks, that beautiful doggy smile looking up at her, the blaze and mark that gave the dog her name prominent on her forehead as her luminous brown eyes wisely watched the world around her, both pictures under the small milk glass lamp, used to help see the knitting Gloria still did each evening, that sky-blue jacket for Christopher almost complete….and would a hat to match be appropriate?

Star had so quickly changed Gloria’s life; Gloria no longer first thought of herself as “an old woman.” Instead, now her first thoughts centered around the dog and what Star needed or what Star wanted, or, even stranger, what Star thought she wanted. That didn’t mean what Star might or might not want, but what she communicated to Gloria she wanted by some mysterious ESP method that Gloria had given up trying to understand but that she had also come to listen for with her mind’s ear.

Gloria very seldom said those words “listen with my mind’s ear” out loud. She knew how weird it sounded, meaning when she actually spoke the word, not thought it. Communication could get very confusing around this uncommon, loving, pretty dog. At times, when she tried to explain it to people, it baffled even her so much, she felt a headache coming on, so, generally, she just let it happen, these exchanges with her dog.  “Her dog,” two words she loved so well; words she had never even thought of just a month before. So different was Gloria’s life now that just the week prior, she had driven to the mall and bought a pair of blue jeans, the first pair she had owned in at least 25 years. To her surprise, just wearing the jeans made the walks easier, more energizing, so much so that she returned to buy another pair. She did pick up a third pair, but stopped herself before she bought yet another set.

Let’s not get crazy, she thought.

At least not yet.

At the end of a month of walks, she knew that two times a day she and Star navigated two miles at a time. Have mercy, she thought, I am walking four miles a day!

The fact would, she knew, shock her son. For some reason, she didn’t tell him when he called. The once-a-week call, maybe, rarely, twice, kept them up-to-date with each other, at least the peripheral things. “How’s the weather? How are you feeling? Do you need anything? What’s for dinner?” But, deep topics seldom came up.

How, for example, would she explain that her new dog thought conversations to her? For that matter, she should probably explain soon to Christopher that she had a new dog. It might take him a bit of time to adjust. As a child he had never really longed for a dog, and she had never suggested it.

Or, and this thought made her stop suddenly as she and Star strolled along a familiar road filled with lots of trees for her to sniff, had Chris really just never asked because he knew his mother would have never let him have a pet—dog, cat, parrot, gerbil, anything? Money had been so tight, she would have explained to his little boy self, and they were gone so long in the day.  Truthfully, she had just not wanted anything else to have to take care of.  As this thought overtook her, Star sniffed a tree carefully, from the ground slowly, intently to about a foot from the ground, then all around the tree from that height down, then from the ground up a foot, or so, down, around up. Gloria followed her as needed, mulling the years past, her mind reliving scenes from her boy’s childhood, striving to recall any mention of a pet, an offhand request made for a dog, a cat, even a fish, for Pete’s sake. She could not remember any, but what child didn’t at some point ask for a dog?

Great. Now she felt guilty for something she might not even really bear guilt for!

Star tugged gently at the leash, and Gloria started walking again, not as briskly as before, but still a it more flexible than in previous, er, decades.

“You should just ask him.” The words breezed through her mind with no audible sound, but she heard them just as clearly as if someone beside her spoke them. At least she no longer looked around her for someone obviously not there talking. Instead, she glanced down at her dog who gazed quizzically up at her as they walked along, not too fast now, since neither looked ahead at this point, meaning they could easily run into something unseen.  Gloria smiled down at the dog. “Yes,” she said, “I could. Maybe I will.”

And she and Star took off at their brisker pace finishing this morning walk in a good frame of mind, enjoying each other’s company, Gloria so grateful for her new companion, wondering just what she had done before this dog had crept into her yard those few weeks before and into her heart so solidly to stay. Back at the house, they each took a long drink of water and plopped down to rest for a bit, Gloria in her soft, paisley knitting chair and Star under the small table beside it, a new “orthopedic” bed bought and delivered from Amazon to fit under it waiting for her comfort.  Star turned around three times and lay down, sighing hugely. “I like this bed.” Gloria’s heart pumped a bit faster, besotted now that a dog, her dog liked a bed she had bought for her. And that, somehow, the dog could let her know. I won’t even try to understand it anymore, she thought. I’ll just be grateful.’’

Soon, Gloria decided, holding her glass of water, watching her special dog sleep, she must take Star to the big pet supply store and buy her a pretty new leash and collar, much nicer than the grocery store ones she had gotten so soon after Star arrived just so they could go to the vet. The collar and leash served their function okay, but Star deserved a pretty collar, a leash that showed her value, that said, when anyone saw it, “This dog is one valuable dog!” With a sigh, Gloria set the water on a coaster on the table, leaned her head back on the chair, planning their trip as she dozed off. Then the words “That’ll be fun,” breezed through her head.

She could not help but giggle as she fell off to sleep….

Revin Stabler hefted another case of cat “Yummy Yammy Cat Food” from the flat in the store room in the back of the store and carried it to the appropriate shelf in the CAT section of the Pet Paradise store. Looking at the different flavors in the case, he wondered if any cat anywhere truly wanted “Cheesy Tuna Cake Bake” or “Beef Wellington Bonanza.” Or if, really, they just represented more little cans the owners could open so the cats could turn up their noses at them, forcing the owners to open another can….and another….and another. Obviously, the cats ate something. Revin just never knew what. Almost every cat owner he knew talked  about how their cats drove them crazy fussing about food. Only Yummy Yammy cat food put different flavors in each case; other companies put only one flavor per case. For a brief second, Revin wondered if he cared enough to wonder why Yummy Yammy had this different practice.

Then he knew he just really didn’t care one bit, and he placed the cans on the shelf where they belonged.

Revin’s own cat ate dry kibble and the chicken pieces Revin boiled for him twice a week. It cost more than Yummy Yammy did, but not really when you counted the cans people tossed, Revin bet. Besides, Walter, his cat, meant more to him than most cats—or at least he assumed so. He never actually counted the money cost; Walter mattered enough to get good food, real chicken, and not whatever mystery meat Yummy Yammy dug up to put in these little cans. His life couldn't afford extras, but Walter didn't rate as an extra. At times, Walter kept him sane.

Revin didn’t have a lot of friends. He knew he was friendly enough, good looking enough. But, trying to get through college and working two jobs to pay for it all the while trying to help his mom support a couple of younger siblings just didn’t leave enough time for friends. Didn’t leave enough time for enemies, either.

Just didn’t leave any time.

As in, he now needed to find time to study for his history test tomorrow, and after work he had promised to take his younger brother to soccer practice so his mother could take his sister to some other practice or other. The end of February seemed early to start soccer, but in this town, sports seasons changed on some strange schedule. Dinner for them all might be nice at some point; his mom had promised she'd take care of that tonight.

Sounded like a Wednesday to Revin.

The “why” story bored even Revin; a father who ran off while the children, still young, demanded too much time, too much work. A mother who labored too many hours to care for children’s needs, trying to give them with one parent what only two parents could provide. The older son trying desperately to lighten the load of the parent left and still make a life for himself.

Check out the ABC Monday Night Movie of the Week.

Revin checked out the shelf of Yummy Yammy food. Perfect. Well, perfect enough. A glance at the clock told him he had just enough time to return the empty box to the back of the store, clock out, and head home to pick up his brother for the practice.

I hope, he thought, the car doesn’t give me any trouble.

And, it didn’t. Thankfully.

He raced home to his little brother, Kevin (his mother liked rhyming names for siblings), waiting on the front steps of the house. Kevin flew down the steps, trailing his soccer bag behind him, jumped in the car, and happily greeted Revin.

Revin grinned at the younger boy. “Hey, Kid,” he said, scratching the top of Kevin’s head roughly, knowing this young boy held his heart in ways even his mother and sister did not. Probably because Revin remembered their father better than either of the other children, he felt deeply felt the absence of a father in a son’s life. He tried hard to help replace that loss for Kevin, but no matter how hard he worked at it, a brother could not bring love and life lessons of a father.

Revin shifted in the car seat. He would certainly try, though. He would try for his sister, Devin, as well. He just couldn’t identify with her as closely as with a brother. But, then, he loved being big brother to a little sister, too. Time. He needed more time.

For now, Kevin flew from the car as soon as they got to the soccer field and ran to greet his coach, a father of one of the players, the group of young boys smiling, putting on soccer cleats, running to “warm up,” as if they had not all been jumping around all day. Revin reached behind the seat to grab the notebook and text for his history class. At least he had a free hour to study for the test tomorrow; maybe an hour and a half.

Revin balanced his texts and notebooks as best he could inside the car, reciting facts to himself, names of people long dead, important to Revin only as answers to a test important to Revin only as a grade leading to a step to a higher step to a goal beyond, well, here.  Revin knew any hope he had of finishing college would take every penny he could earn and the keeping up of every grade so he would not lose the little scholarship he had to help with the cost. Without that bit of help, there were not enough cans of Yummy Yammy heft-able onto shelves to keep him in college. He needed to finish a degree, to get a good job, so that Kevin, even now flying down the field, pushing a ball in front of him, and Devin could get an education without having to worry every day the way he had to do.

Revin sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back on the head rest for just a moment. Checking the time on his phone, he saw practice ended in about fifteen minutes. He closed his books, put up the notebooks, and got out of the car. Kevin loved his older brother to watch him practice. Revin never got to the games; his work schedule just didn’t allow it, so he tried to watch at least a few minutes of the practice each week. As he strolled over to the side of the field, he crossed the sidewalk—and almost knocked over an elderly woman walking a black and white dog.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the woman chirped. “I didn’t see you coming. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Revin said, anxious to get away and watch his brother on the field. “I’m sorry, too. No problem at all.” To his annoyance, the dog stepped in front of him. He moved to the right. The dog shifted, for all the world acting like he (she?) intended to get in his way.

“Well, you’re too young to have a child practicing,” said the little old lady. (The more irritated Revin got, the less generous his thoughts about the world around him—and himself.)

“My brother,” he snapped, then felt bad for being so abrupt.

But, the lady just beamed at him. “How nice! I’ll bet he loves you having here at his practice!”

“Yeah, he does,” Revin answered, a little more nicely this time, again trying to go around the dog. I’ll be darned, he thought, as the dog, sniffing the ground at her (his?) feet moved his (her?) feet just enough to prevent Revin from heading off without danger of falling on his face.

And, then, from out of the sky, Revin heard, sort of in his head, “He knows you’re here. You can relax if you’d like.”

Revin’s feet quit shifting, but his head swiveled, looking to find who was talking to him. This voice did NOT sound like the little old lady. Not seeing anyone close to him, certainly no one close enough to have said words he could hear that way, he looked down at her. She smiled a funny little smile.

“Which one is your brother?” she asked.

“Uh, the one with the ball right now,” Revin answered, watching again as Kevin slipped past a defender, then passed the ball sharply across the field to a team mate. “Good pass, Kevin!” he hollered.

“Yes, he’s quite good,” the old lady agreed.  “I’ve been watching as we walked along here. It’s amazing how they can control that ball with their feet!”

“You should relax, really,” Revin again heard words INSIDE his head. Again, his head whipped left, right, then back left. The old lady sighed, then patted his shoulder.

“Ah,” she began, “did you kind of hear something in your head?”

Revin’s mouth dropped open, and he stared down at her. How on earth could she know that?

“No!” he said.

“Oh. Okay,” she said, looking a bit flustered. “Well, I’m sorry we bothered you. Come on, Star! Let’s go, Girl!”

At least he knew the dog was a girl now. But, the dog (girl) didn’t move out of his way. Rather, she backed just a bit, the movement causing him to glance down at her, she looked up at him with amazingly deep brown eyes, and watched his face as he looked down at her. Didn’t dogs blink? He had never had a dog…..his dad had promised that they would have one “soon.” But, like so many things, “soon” ended after his dad ran off.

“Star,” the old woman repeated, “come on!”

And the dog sat down right in front of Revin, just far enough away so she could continue to gaze up at his face. Revin looked away, out onto the field where Kevin again whisked by, controlling the ball with his feet, not even noticing if Revin watched or not. Still, he had left the car to watch his brother, not be grilled by a dog.

Not, of course, that the dog was asking questions. What was wrong with him.

“Star?” the old woman said. Frankly, Gloria didn’t know what to do. Star had never disobeyed her before.

“You shouldn’t lie to nice ladies,” Revin heard.

Wait, WHAT? Heard HOW? “Who’s talking to me?” Revni said, again twisting his head left, right, turning his body backwards.

“Oh.” The old lady put out her hand, the universal gesture for greeting, and Revin shook her hand, albeit not very strongly. “I’m Gloria Shepherd, and this is Star.”

“Hello,” Revin answered, still glancing around.

“It looks like they’re going to be a few more minutes. Can you walk with us to the end of the sidewalk?”

Revin wanted to walk down the sidewalk with this woman and her dog as much as he wanted to heft another case of Yummy Yammy cat food.  He got the strangest feeling, though, that if he tried to pass the old woman and the dog, somehow the dog would stop him. As it was, she stood, staring intently at him, seemingly willing him to walk with them.

Again in his mind, he heard someone talk. “I could nip your heels to make you move.”

Revin jerked his head down and stared at the dog, still patiently staring up at him.

“Move, please.”

Revin shook his head, looked at the dog (did the dog NEVER blink?) and saw her lower herself into a crouch, almost lie a wolf stalking prey. She continued staring at Revin, then took a small step towards him. Unconsciously, Revin took a step back,then looked over at the old lady (Shepherd? Was that her name? Mrs. Shepherd?)

Whatever, Ms., Mrs., or Miss, the lady smiled and nodded. “You heard right,” she said, “now, let’s take a walk for a bit.” She looked over at the soccer field. “They still look like they might take a few minutes to get all through.”

Revin started walking beside the woman, and the dog, now upright again, settled in between them, quietly walking on the woman’s left, Revin’s right. “Exactly what did I hear?” he asked.

For a minute, the woman didn’t speak. Then, she said quietly, “Well, I didn’t hear it, so I don’t know the words exactly. But, I would imagine you heard something in your mind that your ears didn’t pick up on. Does that kind of describe what happened?”

Revin stopped and stared at the old lady. “Ma’am,” he said, “I really don’t have time for any kind of scam or any ESP stuff or any psychic, uh, stuff. I can’t pay you anything, and I just need to go wait for my brother and take him home, then I have to study for my test tomorrow.”

“You worry too much,” wafted through his mind.

“How do you DO that?” he demanded of the woman.

“It’s not me,” she said calmly. “I know you’re frustrated.  I don’t blame you. Look, there’s a bench over here. Let’s go sit down.”

And Gloria Shepherd walked over and slowly sat down. Star followed Gloria, but as soon as the woman sat, Star turned around, still staring at Revin. Revin thought, I could just walk away now. This is getting really weird.

“Come sit down,” he heard. He didn’t even bother to look around; just gave up all thoughts of running away, walked over, and sat down.

“Okay,” he said.  “Who is it?”

The old lady glanced down at the dog, now lying at their feet, those remarkable eyes rolled up, studying them, switching back and forth between the woman and the boy.

“The DOG?” he blurted, and laughed, “the dog.”

“I know,” the gray hair bobbed up and down as her head nodded. “It’s fantastic—fantastic as in crazy. As in cray-cray.  I know that. But, there you are. No one around here is talking to you. Well, except me. Am I the one you heard?”

Revin shook his  head. No, for sure this woman’s voice in no way resembled what he had heard speaking to him.

“But, how?” he asked.

She shrugged. “You got me. It just seems that the people who NEED to hear her, she gets through to them. What did she say to you?

He looked again over at the woman, then down at the dog. “You really can’t hear her?”

“I’ve heard her when I need to hear her for myself,” said Mrs. Shepherd. “But, when she’s talking to other people, I don’t usually hear her. One time she spoke to two of us at once, but that was only the one time.”

Revin started laughing. “You think I believe this?”

Mrs. Shepherd shrugged. “Well, no. I understand it’s impossible for a dog to talk, and for sure to do it telepathically. I’m just saying what I’ve seen and what’s happened to me. And I’ve started to see that when Star takes an interest in someone, generally that person needs to hear from her. So, what I’d say to you, young man, is you’d do best to listen to her. If, that is, she could talk to you.”

Revin looked down at the dog, who stood up, shook from her head down to the end of her tail, the way dogs do to rid themselves of all stray dirt or after getting out of a pool or lake, sat, then started scratching with her hind foot behind her ear.

“Well, she seems to have said all she wants to me,” he commented.

Gloria Shepherd smiled. “Maybe.” Gloria knew better, knew the dog probably had more to share with this tired looking young man who wore sadness like a winter jacket. But she also knew she would never convince him that Star truly connected with people. Only Star could do that; and, if she wanted to badly enough, she would.  Gloria had come to realize that Star took her work—if that genuinely described what the dog did—seriously. Gloria had no idea where these messages that Star passed along came from, and she (Gloria) feared asking the dog that question. What, Lord help her, if Star decided to answer her?

So, for now, she sat quietly as the dog and young man—she had decided ‘boy’ did not really describe Revin—studied each other.

Then, “You should rest tonight,” Revin heard. He laughed, and, looking down at the dog, said, “Now you sound like my mom.”

“You should rest tonight.” Revin quit laughing. The tone of voice (thought) was not motherly at all, but authoritative, like one who KNEW. Revin’s mother loved her children beyond reason. Revin suddenly felt that, maybe Star didn’t love him so much, well, she didn’t even know him, after all—she didn’t love him so much as just knew the best actions he should take.

“I have a test tomorrow,” he mumbled. At least Mom would have dinner cooked; Revin wouldn’t have to do that.

“You should rest.” Revin reviewed in his head the subject matter for the test—the time frame covered, the people. It dawned on him that, yes, he did know the material. He had studied along as they covered the chapters, he listened in class, kept up with the reading, reviewed the past couple days. Perhaps even more convincing, he felt the fatigue flood his body. I SHOULD rest he thought.

Revin almost cried, thinking that he could sleep tonight, his small black cat curled beside him, that he could rest, that he had, what, permission?

From a dog?

He looked again at the dog, and for the first time really looked at her. Between those brilliant, deep brown eyes, a white blaze split her face. At the top of the blaze a star formed in the center of her forehead, no doubt the source of her name. Three of her legs, the front two and the left rear, had white “socks” halfway up. The right rear leg had a white foot. At the end of her tail, a couple of inches of white made a flag to wave, as now, when she slowly waved that tail back and forth. As dusk fell on the practice area, the white of that tail shown, almost a disembodied character flowing back and forth.

Who are you? he thought?

“After dinner. You should rest.”

“Okay.” Revin said.

And with that, the dog turned her face away from him for the first time since they had met, and wound up looking right at Kevin just as he ran up, practice over, drinking a juice box. “Hey, Revin! Did you see me!”

“I saw you really moving that ball some,” Revin answered. “You looked good!”

“Hey, Dog,” Kevin said, rubbing Star’s pretty head. He looked up at his brother. “Whose dog is this?”

Revin introduced Kevin to Mrs. Shepherd. Then he said, “This is Star. She’s a special dog.”

“Hey, Girl!” And to the surprise of Gloria and Revin, Kevin dropped his soccer bag, put his juice box on the ground, sat beside them on the sidewalk, and wrapped his arms around Star’s neck. “Hey, Star! You sure are pretty.”

Star’s tail waved again, and she licked Kevin’s face. He rested his head on her back as he hugged her. Revin looked at Gloria, who shook her head slightly at him:  leave him alone. Star, other than reaching to lick the boy holding her, didn’t move. Finally, after a few minutes, Kevin started petting her sides, her back, let her go, and stood up. He leaned over, placing a hand on each side of Star’s face, looked into those deep, chocolate eyes, then kissed the star at the top of her face. After another quick rub, he picked up his juice box and soccer bag, and looked at his brother.

“Coach said I get to start as forward on Saturday! Isn’t that great?”

Revin smiled at his brother. “Ah I wish I could come see you, Bud,” he replied. “I’m working.”

“I know,” Kevin said, “It’s okay. Let’s go now,” he continued. “We need to get home and eat dinner. Mom probably has it done, and I’m hungry.” He swung the bag over his shoulder.  “Besides, you have to rest tonight.”

Revin jerked his head around to look at the dog, then at Gloria. Gloria just smiled and shook her head. From her pocket she took a little notebook she always kept with her in case she needed paper, unclipped the pen kept there for just such a purpose, and wrote down her name and phone number.

“I don’t know what all is going on with your family,” she said. “But, if I can help, maybe babysit some, maybe help cook, anything, even bring Star for Kevin to play with, maybe even come to a soccer game, please call me and let me help. She doesn’t warm up to everyone, and she likes you and your brother both. Please let me help.”

Revin took the paper, but didn’t know what his mom would say.  “I’ll have to talk to my mom,” he said. But, he thought how nice it would be to have some help with taking care of Kevin and Devin once in awhile. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”

Gloria smiled. “I’m not far from here, and I drive. Star and I just like to walk in the afternoon. Just let me know. Tell your mom to call me if she’s worried. I can meet her before she decides.”

Then as they said their goodbyes and started to walk away from each other, they both heard, “It’ll be okay. His mom will be happy for help.”

The old lady and the young man looked at each other, Revin regarded the dog silently for a minute, then leaned over and patted her silken sides. She closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure.

“Rest,” he heard, but quieter this time.

“I will,” he said.

He stood, a bit straighter than when he had arrived at his brother’s soccer practice, and looked down a bit to see into Mrs. Shepherd’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

She smiled. “I’ve done nothing yet,” she said.

Revin looked down at Star. “Thank you,” he said.

Star sat down and scratched behind her ear again. Revin laughed and, feeling lighter, turned and headed to his car, glad to take his brother home…..

……..home to dinner…….and to rest. 

 © Jana Mauney 2017