Title: A Rescue
E-mail:
jixers@yahoo.comFeedback: If you would be so kind.
Distribution: Any free fanfiction site, just tell me.
Spoilers: None. It’s an AU.
Rating: PG
Pairing: W/T
Disclaimer: All characters of BtVS are owned by Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon. If they were mine I’d have more than a bunch of tattered books and there would be a W/T spin off. Then there would be a MKF spin off.
Note: I’m writing to deal with the passing of a friend’s elderly dog today.
“Momma!” Rebecca cried out as she came into the kitchen. “Come quick!”
Tara took one look at her two year-old daughter, saw the spots of blood on her sundress and felt her heart race. She looked out the window to see her oldest daughter kneeling next to a large black lump outside.
“Will!” Tara screamed. “Get the First Aid Kit!”
With that Tara tore out the door with a dishtowel in her hands. She covered the distance to her child in seconds but it was long enough to promise every deity she could think of she would never let her children go outside again without her. She arrived at Sarah and saw her daughter’s bloody hands on the black form. Tara saw the black lump had traces of brown and was the next-door neighbor’s Rottweiler Bruno. Sarah looked up at her mother with tears in her eyes.
“I can’t make the blood stop, mama,” Sarah said anxiously. “Fix him.”
Tara looked down at the ugly dog. One brown eye looked at her and the big dog whined.
“Oh my God!” Willow said breathlessly as she ran up. “How did he get cut so badly?” Willow reached down and opened a dressing. She pressed it on the bleeding wound. The dog let out a high-pitched bark.
“He might bite!” Tara said fearfully.
“He won’t bite,” Sarah said surely. Then before her mother could pull them away Rebecca and Sarah began to pet the dog and reassure him. The dog whined softly and tried to lick Sarah’s hand. Tara looked away and saw the trail of blood over the low fence. She looked back towards Mrs. Bowman’s house and saw the hole in the back door’s window.
“I’m going next door,” Tara said. “Girls, stay with the dog.”
Tara clambered over the fence and headed for Mrs. Bowman’s. She saw the blood on the broken glass. Looking into the house Tara saw Mrs. Bowman on the floor. Tara reached over the broken glass and opened the door. She hurried inside. Mrs. Bowman looked at her with one eye. The right side of her face was slack. Tara reached down and touched the old woman’s neck. Mrs. Bowman lifted her left hand and clutched Tara’s hand.
“Hold on,” Tara said quietly. “I’ll call 911.”
In ninety seconds Tara heard the wail of the sirens. She knelt by the old woman and took her hand. Mrs. Bowman looked at her and tried to speak. Tara couldn’t understand the words but she saw the frustration and worry.
“Can you point at something?” Tara asked.
The old woman pointed at the wall. Tara looked and saw a calendar with a trio of Rottweiler puppies. Tara looked around the kitchen and saw several Rottweiler and terrier shaped trinkets.
“Bruno’s okay,” Tara said gently. “He’s got some cuts but Willow will take him to the vet.” Mrs. Bowman started to cry. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of him. I promise.”
Then the paramedics were there. After they treated Mrs. Bowman and took her away Tara locked the door behind them. She looked around the living room. Rosettes and ribbons festooned pictures of Rottweilers and a scruffy terrier breed Tara didn’t recognize. Beside them were pictures of boys turning into men in uniform. Tara felt the weight of another woman’s memories fill the house. She closed the backdoor. Tara looked at her own house and saw Willow, the dog, the girls, and the minivan were gone. She went home and called Xander to fix the back door and replace the lock.
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“Four thousand two hundred dollars?” Tara almost shouted.
“And, uh, thirty four cents,” Willow replied.
“It’s not a race horse!” Tara snapped.
“No, but he is a thoroughbred,” Willow said with a hesitant smile.
“How long is he going to be here?” Tara asked tightly. Willow’s eyes widened. She looked at the bandaged dog. He had been shaved so the dressings and the large plastic collar looked even more horrible. “I made a promise.” Tara explained, “Don’t ask me if I’d do it again.”
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Over the next week Tara found out all three of Mrs. Bowman’s sons were deployed overseas. The youngest one’s wife drove down from Fort Lewis to visit her mother in law. The pregnant young woman had no way to take Bruno home. Mrs. Bowman was not expected to be able to leave the hospital for at least another week. Tara resigned herself to keeping her word and bought the first twenty-pound bag of dog food.
In the next few weeks Mrs. Bowman made little progress. Tara found out the large dog was afraid of Miss Kitty Fantastico, whined at nearly any twinge, and wouldn’t sleep anywhere but in Willow and Tara’s room. Tara kept waiting for some sign of aggression but the dog seemed to mope everywhere, only showing signs of some interest around the girls, and to Tara’s distress, around her. He only infrequently tried to get back to his home. Willow brought over a too large assortment of toys and a dog bed from next door, but Bruno still seemed depressed.
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“I’m going to try something,” Willow said on Saturday afternoon looking at the unhappy dog. “I was going to drop the girls off at Joyce’s anyway.”
“Okay,” Tara said hesitantly.
After her spouse left Tara looked at the big dog with the stitches and the collar and remembered a very different Rottweiler.
“Get back home, Tara!” Donnie had laughed.
“But Daddy said-” The huge form of Andy Richardson’s Rottweiler lunged at her. Donnie’s best friend grabbed the chain around the dog’s neck and yanked it.
“Better run on home, Tara,” Andy laughed. “Old Zeus doesn’t like you.”
“I’ll get in trouble!” Tara shouted fearfully. “I’m supposed to stay with you-”
Tara’s words ended in a shriek as Andy let go of the chain just enough for the dog to lunge at Tara. Tara fell as she leapt back.
“Oh shit!” Andy yelled. “I can’t hold him!”
Tara turned around and ran. She fell down twice and ruined her clothes before she got home with the dog’s bark and her brother’s laughter ringing in her ears. She was in her room, crying and trying to find a comfortable way to lie on her bed so the bruises from her father and the scrapes from her flight wouldn’t hurt when the police came to the door. Tara remembered her father’s anguished cry when they told him Donnie and Andy had been in an accident. Donnie would never torment her or hit her again. Her father had come into her room later and just stared at her.
“Your brother is dead because of you,” he said after a moment.
Tara didn’t realize she was crying until the hard plastic of the collar touched her knee. She looked at the battered dog.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know dogs are only as good as their masters and Andy was drunk and Donnie was driving too fast and you’re not a bad dog but…I’m apologizing to a dog.”
Bruno just looked at her.
“I like dogs,” Tara explained. “I had a little beagle named Duke that used to bell up rabbits for my father but he got run over when Donnie got drunk and let him out and didn’t shut the gate…”
Tara closed her eyes and saw another dog looking at her, wearing a bonnet and lapping at the cup in front of him. Then she remembered a tiny bundle in a hunting coat. Her father hadn’t let her look. She saw the bundle again disappearing under shovels of dirt beneath the plum tree. This time she opened her eyes when the collar rested on her lap.
“Oh well,” Tara said softly rubbing the hurt dog’s chest gently. “Maybe you’ll be a good watch dog.”
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Tara sat in the chair and tried to find more things for Rebecca to do. The waiting room wasn’t really set up for children. Finally she fell back on the old standby and gave her daughter a pack of crayons and a pad of paper. Sarah sat next to her with a stack of books. After a few minutes Willow came in leading Bruno. Both of them seemed happy.
“How did it go?” Tara asked.
“They want us to bring him back tomorrow when her physical therapists are here,” Willow said excitedly. “It’s at ten.”
“You’ll be at work,” Tara said with a sigh. “I’m bringing a big dog and the girls-”
“We can bring her my picture!” Rebecca said brightly.
Tara looked at the picture. A recognizable black dog with brown in places stood next to a black and white cat, two small figures in dresses and two bigger figures in dresses who held hands under a tree. Everything had a smile.
“That’s our back yard and you and Mama and Bruno and Miss Kitty and me and Sarah,” Rebecca explained carefully.
“Is Bruno going to have to go with Mrs. Bowman to the nurses home?” Sarah asked.
“Some nursing homes like to have animals with their people,” Willow said gently.
“She can live with us!” Rebecca said quickly. “Then we can keep Bruno too!”
“Honey,” Tara started gently. Both girls looked at their mothers with very unfair expressions.
“We’ll see,” Willow said.
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Tara flinched at the bang of the firecracker. All around her the night of the second of July was echoing with the snaps of illegal fireworks. Tara sighed as Willow just rolled over and never really woke up. A few seconds later there was a whimper by Tara’s side of the bed. Tara reached out and rubbed Bruno’s ears. The dog slumped back to the floor beside her and in a moment filled the night with snores. Tara sighed as the dog and her wife began a nocturnal duet. A nearby firecracker awoke Bruno and he huffed uneasily at the noise.
“Shhh,” Tara whispered. “It’s okay. Good dog. Go to sleep.”
After a moment the dual snoring returned. Tara sighed.
This is going to go on for another week, Tara mused unhappily. Some watch dog. When the pan smoked up he tried to hide under the couch. He didn’t bark at the possum in the garbage, he just looked at it and tried to sniff it. He goes through a bag of dog food a week and heaven help us if the girls feed him cheese!
Bruno whined in his sleep at the high-pitched screech of a Piccolo Pete. Without thinking Tara reached down and rubbed him behind the ears.
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The man that passed on the street casually looked for small things as he shifted a small carry all in his hands. He saw the “In event of Fire Please save my Rottweiler” sign on Mrs. Bowman’s house and shook his head. He heard children playing behind the next house. He looked carefully towards the backyard. Children usually meant unlocked doors. Suddenly a largest dog’s head he had seen appeared. The dog glared at him and gave warning whuff. The man continued walking down the street with his bag.
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Bruno sat down and whined as the girls tearfully left him. Mrs. Bowman wrung Willow’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “I swear those visits from you and your partner with my dog were the only thing that got me out of a hospital bed.”
“We’ll come and visit,” Willow said patting Bruno’s head gently.
“Please do,” the old woman said. “And bring your girls.”
“We will,” Willow promised.
“Come on, Bruno,” Mrs. Bowman said gently.
With the leash slack the big dog stood up, turned and gently walked beside her walker. Willow climbed into the minivan and looked at Tara.
“Are you sure about this?” Willow asked.
“Yes,” Tara said putting on her sunglasses. “Our appointment is at four.”
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Tara could hear shrieks in the backyard. She opened the back door. Both girls were straining at a short length of rope. On the other end a female Rottweiler held on while sitting on the grass. This dog was no champion. At least now her ribs weren’t as prominent and the scar around her neck was hidden by a blue bandanna.
“Dinner!” Tara called out.
“Mooommm!” the girls whined.
“Now, young ladies,” Tara said firmly. “Stop! Take off your shoes. ‘Becca, leave the outside rope outside.”
“We almost won,” Rebecca grumbled.
“I’m sure you did,” Willow said as she turned off the stove. “You’re both getting stronger.”
“Yeah,” mused Sarah. “But so is Allie. She’s not so skinny anymore.”
The dog looked up at her name and wagged her stub of a tail briefly. Then she lowered her head and made a good attempt at emptying her water bowl. After a minute she sniffed her food bowl, then lifted her nose and sniffed toward the stove.
“Out of the kitchen,” Tara said firmly. The dog sighed and lay down just outside the kitchen on the dining room carpet.
“No,” Willow said pointing to the dining room table. “And you two need to wash your hands. Front AND back.”
Both sisters let out a sigh very similar to the dog’s and went towards the bathroom with no enthusiasm as the dog heaved herself up and followed the children.
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At three forty the next morning Allie got up quietly and padded to kitchen, only stopping long enough to snuffle Miss Kitty. At three forty two there was a rattle at the back door. Allie let out a bass growl. The rattling stopped. After a while she went back to Tara’s side of the bed and lay down. In a minute she was snoring.
by justin » Sat Mar 06, 2004 11:51 am 
I wonder why?
...maybe next year (or is that this year...)
while I was reading it. 
Thank you. Glad I could cause a 
BWR 
