500: An Anthology of Short Stories
God's Grace

The sparrows were singing their little hearts out on the morning Grayson found the dog. It was only later, after the mutt did something truly surreal, that Grayson wondered if the dog hadn’t found him.

The golden Labrador emerged from a thicket of shrubs situated along the forest path Grayson used to get to the river. On this particular morning, Grayson was deep in thought, mulling over the recent loss of his dog, Star, trying to cope with the raw hurt he was feeling, thus he was slightly startled when he heard the rustle coming from the copse. He stopped in trepidation, expecting the worst, such as a rabid wild animal. What emerged from the bushes though was a smiling Lab; pink tongue lolling, black eyes bright with joy at seeing a human.

“Hello, boy,” Grayson automatically responded, having a natural affinity for all animals. “Where’d you come from, huh? Here, come,” Grayson said, patting his thigh in an attempt to encourage the dog to approach him. The Labrador’s tail started to wag wildly; within seconds, the animal reached Grayson, licking his outstretched hand.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful girl. Oops, my mistake, sweety,” Grayson chatted to the dog as he scratched behind her ears and stroked her soft, silky fur. He gave the dog a final rub before continuing to the river, assuming she would go back to what she had been doing. To his surprise, she followed him, perfectly happy to trot at his side.

“Oh, no. This won’t do at all, buddy,” Grayson told the pooch, hunching down to be at eye-level with her. “I can’t take you in right now, girl. I recently lost my own dog of over 12 years; my heart won’t be able to open itself up to another pet companion just yet,” he explained, speaking to the animal as if he knew she understood every word he was saying. The Lab only continued to smile goofily at Grayson, sitting perfectly still with only the tip of her tail twitching occasionally.

Grayson couldn’t look away from the Labrador’s drowning gaze filled with such unconditional love. He knew before he had made up his mind that he would take the dog home.

“Ah, to blazes with it! Come, girl. Let’s see what the Trade Store at the river front has for us,” Grayson relented.

Later that evening, as Grayson sat in front of the low-burning fireplace, coffee in hand and a book of poetry in his lap, the dog whom he had named Buttercup came up to him, put her right front paw ever-so-gently in his lap, and simply stared at him. Grayson was stunned. This was something Star had used to do every night at exactly the same time when he had wanted Grayson to pet him. As if to further reinforce the similarity, Buttercup lowered her head onto her paw.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” the lonely man said in disbelief as the sorrow in his heart was replaced by the grace of God.