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Articles
In this issue, we feature a short story by Ron Hevener, who is not only a writer, but an artist and sculptor, as well. Ron's favorite subjects are collies, greyhounds, and Arabian horses, but he enjoys painting pets of all kinds.
Submitted by Ron Hevener's Publicist
He had won.
He had done his master proud and he had won.
It wasn't that he understood exactly "what" he had done to make
everyone so happy. It wasn't as if he had fought off a raging bear, or
saved a lost child. He hadn't run for help or chased a thief away from
those he loved. He hadn't done any of those things. He hadn't done
anything but be himself, standing before a crowd of strangers, beside
the one he loved. And, there it was: His master's hand upon his
shoulder; his master's voice at his ear; his master's smile upon him.
It wasn't always like this. In the long-ago mists of Before, when
he nudged his mother's breast and scrapped with his brothers and
sisters, he was blind to the life that lay ahead of him, blind to
anything but himself. Listening into the night, his mother's breath
comforted him in a world of what he could feel, hear, or sense around
them. But, from his earliest awakening, he was aware of a presence
around him; an intelligence. From as far back as he could think, there
seemed to be a mysterious something watching over them, providing an
order to things; a mysterious someone who seemed to care.
Day after day it was like this. Day after day, as he dozed in the
manner of the newborn, he felt himself touched by something greater
than he, himself, seemed to be. It wasn't that he knew himself. It
wasn't as if he knew he was any different from a rock or a tree or the
flowers decorating his life. He only knew that his life was protected
by someone that could change anything around him.
It was a power that could change the bedding on which he lay. It
could bring him food. It could bring water. It could take away his
mother, making him wonder if she would ever return. It could fill the
air with music all night long and calm him with a reassuring voice.
From the moment he first saw it, he knew he was important to this
powerful someone. He knew it from the moment he felt his master's
smile upon him.
As it is with all young dogs, there were ups and there were downs.
There was the time he escaped and followed a yellow butterfly. Yes, it
was true he could hear his name being called. It sounded nice, hearing
his master shout his name to the Heavens and fade into the distance.
But, a yellow butterfly! Now that was something he had to know about.
He had to know about all kinds of things in the Early Days. He had to
know about powdery wings that fluttered and lifted a butterfly into
the air. Did he have wings, too, he wondered? Where were his own
wings? ... Where, he suddenly wondered with a sinking feeling in his
belly, was his master's voice? Yellow butterflies melted into darkness
and shivers as he learned the meaning of loneliness ... and longing.
A light! The rustling, crunching sound of dry leaves and familiar
footsteps! Was it possible? "There you are!" came the words that
showed him all things are possible even when all is lost. "I've been
looking for you," came the caress of love as they turned for home and
he felt his master's smile upon him ....
There were other times, many of them, when he tried new things.
Some were praised and others were not. But through it all, through the
good times and the bad, his spirit flourished and he grew. As his
spirit grew, so did the body in which it dwelled. He grew taller,
stronger, and wiser with his master never far away; feeding him,
watering him, turning on the radio and filling the night with music
....
With his master's help, he grew to understand that collars, leashes
and manners were important things to know about. He grew accustomed to
riding in a car, accustomed to the slippery floor of a veterinarian's
office and the bitter taste of medicine ... He grew accustomed to many
things, to please the one he loved.
There were others like his master. As time went by, he saw many of
these gods, for that's what they were to him. He heard them speak and
did not understand their words, he saw their eyebrows raise and fall,
he saw the gesture of their hands and felt their laughter. "Is that
thing worth showing?" they asked.
"We'll see," came the answer from the one who mattered to him most.
"His mother is the best one I have and his sire is a winner."
As spring burned into summer and summer leaves began to fall, they
worked. They worked together, side by side, early in the morning. They
roamed the pasture and fields, just the two of them, a master and his
dog; a master and his dog sharing a secret. "You can do it," he was
told. "I know you can."
After what seemed like endless mornings and endless nights, when it
felt as if this would be his lot in life forever, something changed.
"We've done enough now, my friend. It's time to show them."
Show them? Show them what? What are we going to show them?
"We're going to show them what you were born to be," came the
answer, as he felt his master's smile upon him.
He was frightened that day. Was he good enough? Would he do the
right thing or would he let his master down? What was ahead for him,
he wondered, as he hopped into the car. Were they going to the vet's
office? Please say they weren't going to the vet's office for shots or
medicine. But, they weren't going to the vet. This time, they drove
past the vet. He breathed a sigh of relief and fell asleep.
It was the sounds that woke him: sounds of barking, air compressors
and excited chatter. The smell of sausage, French fries and dogs --
hundreds of them; more dogs than he had ever seen in his life -- lured
him to full attention. Where are we, he wondered, pressing his nose
against the window. What's happening?
"Come on, fella," his master said, opening the door and snapping on
a leash after they came to a stop. "Good boy!"
"Good" is what he always tried to be. Was it his imagination, or
was his master standing extra tall today? Was his master brushing him
with extra-careful attention? Were people looking at them in a
different way than they used to?
"Where'd you get that one?" somebody with a poodle asked.
"Bred him myself," came the answer.
"Yeah? Who's he out of?"
"The best one I have and his sire's a winner."
"Wait a minute -" came a voice of disbelief. "That can't be the one
I saw at your place. That pup was just about the scrawniest thing I
ever saw!"
Nobody had ever told him he was scrawny. Nobody had ever told him
he was any different from a flower or a cloud or a beautiful
butterfly. Nobody had ever told him anything ... except that he was
important; except that he was loved.
The class was called, the entries filed into the ring ... proudly,
he stood as the judge ran her hands through his hair, over his back
and down his legs. Down and back they trotted; around the ring they
went. As still as a living statue he stood, though every fiber of his
being wished to jump into his master's arms.
One by one the entries went through their paces. One by one, they
went to the end of the line. One by one, they waited the judge's brave
decision.
"Around again, please," she directed ... and, sure of herself, she
pointed: "One! ... Two! ... Three! ... Four!" as the crowd clapped
their approval.
No, it wasn't as if he understood exactly "what" he had done to
make everyone so happy. It wasn't as if he had fought off a raging
bear, or saved a lost child. He hadn't run for help or chased away a
thief. He hadn't done any of those things. He hadn't done anything but
be himself, standing bravely before a crowd of strangers; standing
beside the one he loved. There it was: His master's hand upon his
shoulder; his master's voice at his ear; his master's smile upon him.
-------------------------------------------------------
Figurines, paintings, and stories by author/artist RON HEVENER are
collected by animal lovers everywhere. Visitors to Hevener's studio
can see the dogs, horses and wildlife that inspire novels like Fate of
the Stallion, The Blue Ribbon and High Stakes. "Your life is a movie,
and you write the script," he says. "On With The Show!"
"ON WITH THE SHOW!" ...
His Master's Smile
by Ron Hevener
