Chapter 4: Interlude

Steve Stanislaw had been blind since he was five. He sort of remembered red. He got around ok though, with his good buddy Buddy. Buddy was a good guide, and a good boy. Buds through thick and thin were Steve and Buddy bud.

Steve was scared when suddenly no way was the right way, and Buddy was scared too by how he pressed against Steve’s side, but good old Buddy got to work, and started to guide Steve again through a suddenly scary world full of noise and terror, screams and slaverings and thuds and thunks which went on and on, but good old Buddy bud led the way safely where ever who knew, and only had to break away to get into some sort of fight or squabble twice, always faithfully returning to Steve’s hand, limping somewhat for awhile the second time.

Buddy took them to a hiding place he had found, crawling under a fence or wall, and then scrabbling up onto a platform or balcony. They comforted each other, ignoring their hunger and the ugly noises which gradually reduced in frequency with the passage of the hours.

If there was anyone left around, Steve “Santa Claus” Stanislaw didn’t become aware of them. (He was called that because he had a deep infectious chuckle and a sunny disposition. Probably nothing to do with his last name.)

He suggested to Buddy “Let’s get a drink, where’s water?” making it clear enough that the drink was water, and the water was to drink so he wouldn’t end up at a duck pond or a bar. Although he suspected his little buddy bud had a sense of humor and sometimes played little tricks.

Steve had to pry open the automatic doors to the store, even he could smell the heavy scent of fruit starting to rot as he got the door to budge enough to slip inside. Buddy led the way to the water isle, and after Steve had taken a good load of H2o he sent Buddy off to find a bowl. “Go fetch your bowl, buddy, good boy.” Buddy was back inside of five minutes with an actual dog-food bowl, a dish designed for dogs to eat and drink from. Buddy was a really good dog. He drank noisily and steadily for awhile.

After asking Buddy to find the nuts, and having to listen to an obnoxious and over obvious slobbering slurping noise for a little while, Buddy quit clowning around and led them to the bulk food section where he could sample each dispenser and not even have to taste each one to know it was a pasta or an uncooked grain. But Buddy had led him to the middle of the section dominated by roasted nuts and seeds of various kinds, and in the bins below were dried fruits, dates, figs and chocolates.

Marking his mental position, unaware that what he assumed was north was really south now, he had Buddy take him to the backpacks, and he got some clothes and a jacket while he was there. He tested his confidence by retracing his way back to the nut stash, where he filled a variety of plastic bags with an assortment of goodies.

Locating a canteen and a belt knife- just a little short one that wouldn’t get away from him- He filled it with water, let Buddy eat what he wanted from behind the meat counter, found some fruit which was ripe and not rotted and gave Buddy an unusual command.

“Let’s go where we’re going next, Buddy.”

Buddy led the way.

Jack had a cart he used to use in the off season to train the new dogs to pull and to keep the team in shape. The brake was adjustable for resistance training or to slow the gator sized wagon on a slope, but when free-wheeling the dogs hardly noticed they were doing anything more than joyfully going for a run.