Life Changer

Short story about a tragic event and how it changes lives throughout an entire community and beyond.

He dragged his poor weary body down the cracked sidewalk. The change in seasons had come on quite suddenly. Thank goodness for his heavy brown coat; albeit dirty and permeated with a pungent aroma, it kept him quite warm.

Stomach growling, he stuck his nose to the cold shop window, big black eyes widening at the tantalizing treats within. Donuts. Chocolate. Strawberry. Glazed. His tongue darted in and out between tiny white teeth. How delicious he knew they must be.

Noticing him from the corner of his shop, the bakery owner flew to the doorway. "Go! Go away!" He lifted the hem of his apron with chubby hands. "Leave me be! We have nothing here for you!"

Ducking his head, little legs carried him swiftly down the sidewalk, across the empty street and into the alleyway. Dawn was just beginning to break, along with a pelting, stinging sleet. Darting behind the massive green Dumpster, he settled dejectedly onto a threadbare, faded cotton blanket, curled his body into a tight ball and sighed.

Why? He whimpered. Why was this happening? People could be so mean and things only seemed to be going from bad to worse. He was only trying to survive. Pure animal instinct assisted his dogged tenacity but even that was wearing thin. Could he continue?

Raising his head from the itchy blanket, his nostrils flared at an unfamiliar odor. Blood? A sense of urgency prompted him to explore.

Tentatively stepping his way to the opposite side of the Dumpster, he blinked his eyes several times as he viewed the prone body of a young woman. Laying on her back, her ice blue eyes stared sightlessly. She was clad in a white tank top and pink satin shorts; shoeless feet were paler than pale.

Creeping a bit closer, he noticed the pool of blood spreading like a dark red halo around the woman's bleached-blonde head. His entire body shook violently. Pellets of sleet launched from his frozen coat. He was unaware if the chilling reaction came from the weather, the gruesome discovery or perhaps a combination of both. What type of animal had done this?

He had to alert someone. He had to find someone who would listen to him. Sprinting down the narrow alleyway, he ran through puddles, dodged a discarded shopping cart and skidded atop a slick, frozen indention of pavement.

Attempting to shield himself from the increasing winds, he stood at the corner of the large, intimidating building. Dark eyes scanned the awakening street beyond. Cars sped by crazily and he shrunk back into the shadows; fear gripping his throat. How was he going to get attention? Suddenly, he threw his head back and howled like a coyote communicating with a full moon.

Still, no one stopped. The weather, the howling, didn't deter a single vehicle; a single soul. Then, the black and white pulled into the lane nearest the alley. The policeman had spotted him!

He turned and ran full force back toward the woman. He didn't care if he was caught and taken away, he only wanted justice for the stranger.

Looking back, the big burly cop was now following him on foot. He watched as the man tumbled over a wooden crate, stood to full height and inspected a scraped hand for the briefest of moments only to quickly continue his pursuit.

"Come here, boy!" the officer bellowed. "We've had so many complaints about you!" He sucked frigid air into his lungs. "I'll get you yet."

Sitting next to the woman, brown, wet hair flopping into his eyes, a sense of protection overwhelmed him. He now knew what a Momma dog must feel for newborn pups.

"There you are." The man in pursuit stopped on his heel as the little brown terrier with big black eyes raised a paw and whimpered. He licked at the woman's cheek tenderly.

"Oh, Lord!" The police officer said some things the pitiful-looking pooch didn't understand into a little machine. Then, he heard words he hadn't heard in quite a while: "Good boy! Good job, little fellow!" The man gathered the canine into his arms, covering the shivering critter as best he could with his police department-issued jacket as the ambulance siren sounded in the distance.

Six weeks later, a young woman with long, bleached-blonde hair, wheeled herself in front of several television cameras. Doctors, nurses, family, friends and reporters alike burst into applause. The little brown terrier in her lap wagged his tail excitedly.

"Hello and thank you," the woman began. "My name is Lucille Brady and this little sweetheart," she paused and scratched the dog behind the ears, "is Murphy."

Murphy raised a paw playfully and snorted. The audience laughed at his antics.

"Six weeks ago I was a victim of a horrible crime. I was assaulted in my own home. I was beaten and left for dead out in the elements. But Murphy, a homeless, starving, matted, flea-infested little bit of a thing, saved my life. I could not be more grateful."

Cameras snapped and whirred and chatter ensued. "Why the wheelchair?" someone hollered over the din.

Leaning closer to a large microphone, Lucille replied. "I had to have my left foot and two toes on my right foot amputated due to severe frostbite." She held up her right hand. "I also lost a pinky finger. I ended up with a concussion and and eighty-three stitches to the back of my head. But I consider myself blessed to be alive and have made a new best friend in the process."

Murphy stuck out his tongue and began to pant. A light chuckle rolled through the crowd.

"Do you view this as a life-changing experience?" a female reporter asked from the back of the room.

Several people gasped.

"Of course it's life-changing, stupid," a husky male voice said a little too loudly.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

Lucille cleared her throat. "The only stupid question is the one that is never asked and the answer is yes. I consider this a wonderful life-changing experience and, hopefully, for others it will be soon as well."

"What do you mean?" the same female reporter asked.

"I have been working feverishly from my hospital bed to get a law passed dubbed 'Murphy's Law'. Stray dogs deemed eligible will be trained as service dogs for victims of violence, such as myself. Those rendered handicapped, fearful of living alone and the like will benefit greatly." Murphy licked Lucille's cheek and the media loved it.

"Animal shelters in this town will become obsolete and hopefully throughout the world as well if Murphy's Law comes to fruition. Please, support us in this cause." Lucille shut off the microphone and wheeled away.

Sometimes things that can go wrong, turn out right anyway.

Author's Note

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