From The Dogs of Winter There was a hard day, a bitter cold day I sat huddled next to a steam grate in the sidewalk. The cold made my nose and eyes stream tears. I told myself they were not tears for my mother. They were not tears for the weeks it had been since I had slept in a bed and taken a bath. Perhaps it had been months or only days. I didn't know or care anymore. The tears were only for the cold. I bowed my head and rested it on my knees. Something warm pressed against me. Warm breath stroked my cheek. I lifted my head. There beside me stood a large brown and black dog. The dog sniffed my hair and ran his warm, wet nose across my cheek and ear. I held my breath. Did the dog think I was something to eat? Satisfied, the dog curled up at my feet next to the steam vent with a sigh and closed his eyes. We sat like that together, the dog and I. People rushed past us and around us and stepped over us. Coins dropped at my feet and in my hand. One coin, two coins. I smiled at the dog. I reached out and touched his shoulder. "You've brought me luck today," I said. He licked my fingers. I laughed. "I'm going to call you Lucky...." . I reached out and touched his shoulder. "You've brought me luck today," I said. He licked my fingers. I laughed. "I'm going to call you Lucky...." . I reached out and touched his shoulder. "You've brought me luck today," I said. He licked my fingers. I laughed. "I'm going to call you Lucky...." . I reached out and touched his shoulder. "You've brought me luck today," I said. He licked my fingers. I laughed. "I'm going to call you Lucky...." Excerpted from The Dogs of Winter by Bobbie Pyron All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
