The Shaggy Dog

Poor pup, outside in the rain, all alone. His name was Spot and he was smelly, dirty, and had a shaggy coat of fur, but it was mainly his stench that drove people away. However, he had a friendly disposition, and people took pity on him. They fed him food scraps and occasionally gave him a safe place to sleep (depending on how well they could tolerate the odor), but no one could ever take the smell long enough to keep him. They tried bathing him, they tried perfumes; one lady even completely shaved him, but the stink seemed to radiate out of his skin. So he would always end up back in the streets, begging for food and companionship.

It was a rainy Thursday when Spot met Johnny. Johnny, a small nine-year-old who lost his sense of smell at birth, saw Spot curled up under a tiny overhang in front of an abandoned restaurant. Spot was fast asleep, but awoke to find a tiny boy patting his head.

"Come on boy." Johnny held out his hand and Spot licked it. Spot got up and he and Johnny walked down the street to the townhouse where Johnny lived.

"Quick, get inside! If dad sees you, you'll get thrown out!" Spot trotted inside like any happy dog would when invited into a warm, dry home. He and Johnny ran upstairs, just as Johnny's dad walked through the door.

"Hi Johnny! Ugh, what is that smell??"

"Don't know what you mean dad!" Johnny yelled back.

"What have you been doing all day? Playing in the dumpster?"

"I don't smell anything." Johnny mumbled sarcastically.

"What?"

"I don't know what you smell, sorry!" Johnny took Spot into his room and shut the door.
"Stay here and I'll bring some food up for you later." Johnny left the room. Spot didn't really understand what was going on, but the bed looked soft and cozy so he curled up on that and went to sleep. Johnny didn't return for an hour or so, but the smell of supper woke Spot up.

"Here you go puppy. You look hungry. Oh, look, you have a tag." Spot was gobbling up the food and slobbering all over the bed sheets.

"It says, 'SPOT.'" Spot paused and looked up. The boy knew his name.

"That must be your name then," said Johnny. Spot went back to eating.

"There's no address or anything else on here. I wonder why no one owns you..." Johnny sat thinking, absentmindedly stroking Spot's mangy head. Spot had finished eating and was looking at Johnny with soft eyes, his eyelids fluttering - being petted felt so good and so comforting! He could rest his head in this boy's lap for eternity and be content.

"Johnny! What is this?" Johnny's dad had come in. Spot looked around, surprised, and pricked up his ears. Johnny looked startled.

"He's just a dog dad! He's really sweet and tame. He was alone and hungry out in the ran. His name is Spot."

"He smells like a pig barn! Get him out of the house!"

"I don't smell him."

"That's enough smart comments from you, now get him off of your bed and downstairs." Spot whimpered, not out of sadness, just out of exasperation. Here we go again, he thought, back outside - at least I got a good meal and a nice place to nap a bit this time. He leaped off the bed and started down the stairs.

"No Spot!" Spot stopped, confused. He thought he was supposed to leave. Johnny looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Go Spot!" A bigger voice rang out, more authoritative and menacing. Johnny's dad was coming toward Spot with his face screwed up due to the stench. So Spot continued down the stairs, Johnny's dad right behind him and Johnny trying to push past his dad. At the bottom of the stairs, Johnny's dad opened the front door.

"Out Spot," he said, pinching his noise.

"No Spot, stay!"

"Johnny cut it out! We can't afford a dog, much less live with one that smells like this!"

"We can wash him! He can eat my leftovers - "

"No Johnny! Out Spot, out!" Spot turned toward the door and started to leave, but felt a hand grab his tail. He spun around and found himself face to face with Johnny. Johnny planted a kiss on Spot's head.

"See you 'round Spot," he whispered.

Johnny's dad, pushed to his limits shouted, "Out damned Spot, out!"