Vitamin Romp

The day is cold. The dog, less a companion than a symbol of a poorly-articulated ideal, paws at the snow. He has grown up here - spend the joyful days of puppyhood with this family. He knows not that he deserves more. He simply harbors within his wordless heart a persistent longing. He is tired of the small dog run he has been confined to for most of his stay at this home. He finds little joy in the nightly trek to the family house, the warmth of the rooms a fleeting treat before the relegation to the cell-like kennel in which he spends his nights. The children laugh and play around him - on rare occasions, with him - but it is not enough. He is young, active, aching to run. And they are just too busy.

The dog waits. Company arrives for the holidays. And then, while the rest of the crowd enjoys a movie, a lone figure emerges from the back door.

It is one of the guests. He is tall, quiet, and almost without exception given to expressions of distaste around domestic pets - but the dog knows nothing of this. He sees only the purpose in the man's gait - the direction that will certainly lead him to the door of his dog run. He sees the ball in his hand and the smile on his face.

And then the dog hears his name.

His excitement, previously contained to cautious tail-wagging and his usual pacing along the edge of his enclosure, becomes a frenzied expression of glee. By the time the man open's his door, the dog's pent-up hope translates itself into leaps, snorts, long, tearing runs across the yard, and whirling fits of of pure joy. To the man, the conduct is assuredly annoying. But he doesn't let on, and the two figures play roughly for what must be near an hour. The dog is unabashedly exuberent. Nothing compares to the joy of a having playing companion - a companion who calls his name kindly and does not rush him from one cage to the next without words. He makes himself obnoxious in his exhileration, but even if he were to realize it, he could probably do nothing about it. He is entirely given to this beautiful moment.

Too soon, it ends. The kind man returns indoors, smiling - the dog returns to his cage. But long into the evening, after the sun has set and before one of the children moves him to his kennel in the house, the dog stares lovingly at the back door. He is loved, after all. He is cherished. His longing for that other great necessity of life, love, subsides for a time, and he is once again able to accept the other necessities - food, shelter, water - with greater appreciation. He lives on - a solitary figure in a lonely back yard - but he lives on with a renewed hope in the goodness of his own existence. Against all odds, after all, he has been noticed. Who knows? Other miracles could be just around the corner tomorrow!