Free Lost by Christina Draper Page B

that a large dog got loose in another neighborhood,
wandered around the woods behind your house, and found a way into your yard.”
    I nodded, sure
that was the answer. There were other neighborhoods not far from us, and I had
no doubt that some of the residents had larger dogs. That certainly seemed like
a more reasonable explanation than wolves or some hybrid roaming around my
backyard.
    The officers
finished up their evidence gathering and assured me that it was probably just a
dog.
    “But either
way, try not to come out back for a few days. In case they return for the
body,” Officer Bryant warned us, and Sam and I just nodded in agreement.
    They told us
they would be in touch if anything unusual showed up in their tests, but
otherwise we were free to use the backyard, with caution—their words, not mine.
    I showed them
out while Sam locked up the kitchen door.
    “Mom, I don’t
know if I want to leave you home alone.”
    I had to laugh
again. “Sam, come on! It’s probably just a dog. They’re right. These woods back
up to another neighborhood. A dog probably got loose, got lost, and snuck into
our backyard. It’s fine.”
    I actually
believed that, convinced that it was a one time thing. I assured Sam that we
would be fine, and that he should run up and get cleaned up for work.

* *
*
    All of a sudden, Sam was a vet’s assistant,
and I couldn’t have been more surprised.
    Brian bought me
a dog right after Carey was born. At first I was annoyed. Sam was almost 4. We
had just brought Carey home. I didn’t really need a puppy. But Homer was such a
sweet dog—a sad-faced, droopy-eared Basset Hound—that before I realized it, I
adored him. He followed me around the house—probably because I fed him crackers
all the time—and was so sweet with Carey. Carey took his first steps holding on
to Homer’s ears. The poor dog was probably just trying to get away from my
loud, little boy.
    When Jimmy was
born, Homer would sleep on the floor next to Jimmy’s crib. I’m not sure why
Homer became so attached to Jimmy, but the two of them were inseparable. When
Jimmy started school, I don’t know who missed whom more. Homer waited for Jimmy
every day. When the bus came, he perked up and barked happily. The girls loved
him, but in the end he was Jimmy’s dog—or mine if Jimmy wasn’t around. Jimmy
was heartbroken for weeks when Homer died.
    “MOM!” Jimmy
screamed. I had never heard him yell like that. “MOM! Come quick!”
    I ran outside
to see my son kneeling in the road. A terrified woman was standing near her car
door. Jimmy had taken Homer out, and something must have scared him. He jerked
away from Jimmy, got out of his collar, and ran into the street. The woman that
hit him said she tried to stop, and that he just came out of nowhere. I ran
into the street to see Homer take his last breath in Jimmy’s arms.
    “NO! NO! Homer,
don’t die. Mom, get the car. We can take him to the vet.” Jimmy was distraught,
tears streaming down his face.
    Brian pulled up
at that moment and didn’t even pull his car into the driveway. He just parked
on the road and ran over to us. “Oh, God. Jim, what happened?”
    He knelt next
to our son, who refused to let go of his dog. He was still yelling at me to get
the car, but Homer was gone. Blood was soaking into Jimmy’s shirt.
    “Buddy, let Mom
take you inside, okay?” Brian looked up at me and nodded.
    I moved to take
my son from his beloved dog, and my heart ached to see Homer’s broken body.
    “MOM! Stop it!
Let go of me!” Jimmy tried to reach for Homer again, and I pulled him away,
almost picking him up. Finally, when he saw that his dad was taking good care
of Homer, he let me bring him into the house.
    Brian took
Homer to the vet, and we had him cremated. The vet gave us a lovely urn, and
Homer still sits on Jimmy’s bookshelf underneath a picture Carey had taken of
the two of them in the backyard.
    After Homer
died, no one seemed to be in a hurry to get another