Chapter 5: Home Ground

My mouth is full of meat and my heart full of hope as I arrive in vicinity of my destination, the end of the dotted trail on my nose map. My nose is assaulted by once familiar odors and my ears filled with the howls of multiple wolfhound challenges.

“Here, here now! What is all this racket about?”

Grandma’s voice calls. I recognize it, and it warms my heart. My earliest memories are connected with her charming, affectionate, mellow toned voice. My memories are stirred and triggered.

“Well, then who is this? Celert? Is it you? The prodigal returns, aye? Where is the rest of the family? It’s impossible you have arrived alone. How did you get here? Where is the car? No car? You are an amazing dog to find your way back here all on your own!”

Grandma scratches my ears and tousles my head with approval as she greets me with a salvo of unanswerable questions. I drop the venison to pant in pleasure at the attention I crave and have been deprived of recently.

“Oh, how thoughtful to bring a gift with you, Celert. Everyone will enjoy it. I need to make a phone call to try and find out where your folks are. Let’s put you in the kennel with your relations who are anxious to greet you. It is so good to see you again. You are a good boy. My, you’ve certainly grown into a big handsome dog.”

My breast glows and my mind tingles with the praise.

“We will find you a handsome mate to make beautiful puppies with, don’t you fret yourself over that. I’ll check the breeding book so we select a bitch for you not too closely related. Maybe I’ll match you with My Bonny Lass, the Scottish Deerhound, should I? To reinforce and improve the strength in the trait. Yes, that will be a fine pairing. Welcome home. Yes indeed welcome home, dear Celert.”

Inside the chain link fence gate closing behind me, I stand proud and resolute while I’m inspected and sniffed by half a dozen dogs near my own size. All Irish Wolfhounds, in varied colors. This was my first home I recall. My memories are of when I was once a puppy here.

Home. Not the happy home I shared with Virgil and his mom and dad, but a more visceral home, among others of my own kind. My real family relations.

It’s nice not to be an oddity for a change. I am glad I am not so different. Not a freak of nature after all. I am content to be here. Someday, I hope to be reunited with Virgil, but I’m no longer anxious about him. This place will do nicely until that future day, if it ever comes. This is home now. Again.

“Hello you mutts? What’s up? You don’t mind if I sniff and get reacquainted, do you? I’m planning to be around quite awhile, and you should know.”

Prologue

What caused the people to disappear and abandon the cars? Why didn’t Celert’s people return home? Well? Perhaps those questions are topics for other stories. For now, our brave hound Celert is safe, cared for, happy and at peace. Let’s leave him to enjoy his refuge awhile. Just for now. I have a premonition we will eventually hear more about Celert.

Note:

Irish Wolfhounds aren’t usually barkers, nor are they particularly vocal. That being said, one of the unique breed traits of the Irish Wolfhound is the deep, wolf-like howl that they will occasionally let loose around other members of their breed

Hope you are enjoying.

Yob