TUESDAY TALES - "PURPLE" - "BREAK MY HEART" CONTINUES

Welcome. Today our prompt is "purple". We're back in Pine Grove with "Break My Heart" again this week. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and some fine stories. Thanks for coming. 

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After having been up late the night before because he was deeply involved in a suspenseful novel, Rick was beat. The prospect of walking Oliver overwhelmed him. Even the purple sunset didn't inspire energy. He wanted his bed.

“Tonight, you’re on your own, Ollie. Run out there, do your business and come back, buddy,” Rick said, opening the kitchen door.

The pooch stopped at the doorway, looked up at Rick and cocked his head.

“It’s all right. I think you’re old enough now to go out there on your own for a few minutes. Just be careful.”

The pug sauntered out the door and down the deck stairs to the lawn. Rick eased down onto the sofa and fell asleep. He hadn’t been out long before barking roused him. The high pitch told him it was Oliver. Yawning, he pushed to his feet and made his way to the door.

“Ollie! Stop that! Quiet!” he called as he eased through the door and out on the deck. But the barking continued. A deep growl grabbed his attention. Next came a garbage can flying through the air, and still the pug barked. Rick looked up in time to see a large bear rear up.

“Oliver! Come!” Rick shouted, but the dog paid him no mind. The pooch was intent on protecting his master and his home. “Oliver! Now!” Rick hollered, backing away from the end of the back deck as the bear advanced.

It leaned down and took one swipe with long, sharp claws at the dog. The creature scooped up the little pug and flung him against the house. The dog squealed, a sound that made Rick’s blood run cold.

His mind suddenly alert, he ran inside to get the gun Drew had given him. When he returned, seconds later, the bear loomed over Ollie. Fumbling with the ammo box, Rick attempted to load the weapon. With unsteady fingers, he managed to cram three bullets in, cock it and aim. The sound and motion distracted the bear from the injured pup. She turned toward Rick, who raised the gun. His hands were shaking too much to aim well. Regardless, he fired, and missed. Taking a deep breath, he took aim more carefully and pulled the trigger. That shot hit the bear, who backed away. Rick discharged the gun one more time, and the bear turned and loped back into the woods.

****

Rick ran down the steps to Oliver. Lying still, the pug’s breath came in shallow pants. Gingerly, Rick lifted his beloved pet up and carried him inside. He yanked his phone out of his back pocket and dialed the vet’s office. There was a recording.

“Fucking A!” 

He put down the phone, plucked a clean dish towel from the cabinet, and wrapped it around the bleeding dog.  Fear gripped his heart. He couldn’t lose this dog. Nabbing the car keys from the front hall table, he gripped the pug gently, but firmly and headed for his vehicle. He knew Dr. Henderson lived behind the clinic. It was common knowledge. The vet always lived close to the office to save time and be available for emergencies. Hell, this was certainly an emergency.

“Come on, buddy. We’re gonna get you fixed up. But you gotta hang in there. Don’t die, Ollie. Please, don’t die.”

Rick slammed the SUV into gear and floored it. He had Oliver, wrapped in a towel, in the front seat, held by the seatbelt. He roared out of his driveway and down the street. It was ten, dark and the town was quiet, so his racing through streets, and screeching around corners didn’t endanger anyone but Rick and poor, little Ollie.

When he arrived. He threw the car into park, turned the key, and jumped out. He retrieved the injured pug, cradling him in his arms. Not bothering with the front door, which he figured would take her forever to hear, he went around back.

There was a faint light glowing on one side. That must be her bedroom. She’s still up!

Hope grew in his heart. He banged on the door. Counted to three, then banged again.

“Coming, coming!”

He paced, hugging the pug to his chest. She opened the door, tying a sash around her waist.

“This had better be important,” she said, covering a yawn with her hand.

Words stuck in his throat. He simply thrust his arms toward her. “Fix him. Please.”

When she saw the whimpering pug, her eyes widened. “What happened?”

“Fix him.”

“I have to know…”

“A bear got him. A bear.” Tears forced their way through his defenses. “He was protecting me, the house. And a bear…” but he was crying too hard to talk. 

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