Tabby knocked at Harry’s door.
Tabby carried a small Schnauzer pup in the fold of her arm. She was a girl in her mid-twenties and a bit on the idealistic side; not overbearing so but more concerned than anything. For some time she worried about Harry. His wife passed six months earlier and to her, he seemed lonely.
Unknown to Tabby, Harry’s days were full. In the quiet of his garage with the door down, he repaired bicycles found on curbsides and junk piles. Some customized into small motorized bicycles. Harry sold them by word of mouth or online. Money never being the object just passing time doing something he loved.
Harry answered the door and smiled broadly. “Tabby, it’s good to see you.” He reached out to the small dog and with his finger brushed it under the chin. “What do you have here, a dog for your protection?”
“No,” Tabby said, “he was a gift from my boss. His dog had a litter and he didn’t want to go through all the aggravation of selling them so he started giving them away.”
“Well, he’s a cute little thing,” Harry said. “It will make you a good dog.”
“I didn’t get it for me,” Tabby said. “It’s for you. You need a pet,” Tabby said. “He’ll be a great companion.”
“I need a companion ss much as I need a pile of poop in the backyard,” Harry said.
“Pets give you unconditional love,” Tabby said. “when humans won’t.”
“Humans crap and flush,” Harry said. “At least the ones I know. To me, that’s real love.”