Cowboy and BJ

The cold water slowly permeated the soft fur of his undercoat as he paddled across the Trinity River toward the smell of a campfire and roasting fish. He tried to suppress the memories, but they just kept stalking him. “You know what these here fish are called, Cowboy-my-man? They’re CATFISH! You heard me right.” He loved his dad and his goofy sense of humor. (Dad knew perfectly well that cats hate water.)

Before he could stop himself, he was smiling, his tail was wagging, and his paws had reached the shore.

Cowboy had traveled more than a hundred miles alone. Something was leading him, but he didn’t know what it was or where he was going. At least he had some idea about why he was compelled to follow.

As a 9-year-old cattle dog, Cowboy was wise and experienced in the ways of humans. However, the events of the past few months had left him with only instincts, intuition, and memories as the world around him became ever-more unfamiliar.

. . .

BJ sat with his mom in front of the campfire as they waited for their dinner to cook. Together and far apart at the same time, they stared at the fire and tried to make sense of their new world. The last living person they had seen was a very old woman tending her garden back in late summer or early fall as they traveled south toward Texas. The old woman had vegetables to spare and packed up some that would keep for a while on their journey.

Where did all the people go? They had asked the old woman that question, but she didn’t seem to understand. Maybe she had not yet discovered that they were alone in the world. Mom didn’t seem to know the right words to explain what had happened.

This journey had started at Great Grandma’s house in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, on BJ’s 9th birthday, August 15. They traveled on bicycles and on foot because none of the vehicles worked. Nothing seemed to work anymore. As they navigated the back roads to reach their home near Huntsville, Texas, they lost track of the days as well as their sense of reality.

Mom blinked and looked over at BJ. Then, she used the edge of the blanket to pull their dinner away from the fire. The fish was a rare treat as they had mainly subsisted on non-perishables that they found left behind in homes along their journey. They had caught four fish that day, and BJ was so hungry that he was sure he could eat every bite of his portion. Mom tore off a piece of foil and laid a fish on it in front of BJ.

. . .

“Find her.” Cowboy kept hearing Dad say those words. Sometimes, he would look around as if Dad were still with him. He remembered Dad’s cold hands reach out for him and affix the locket to his collar. It was the heart-shaped locket that Dad always carried with him in his pocket. Cowboy knew it was his greatest treasure. As soon as the locket was secure, Dad was gone. Simply not there anymore. Cowboy knew that Dad was very old, but he thought they would always be together, working those cows and riding around in the farm truck. Cowboy knew that his job now was to carry on—in search of “her.” He would find her and accomplish Dad’s final command.

Reaching the top of the hill, Cowboy saw the smoke from the campfire and the God colors of the setting sun on the horizon beyond. His ears laid back on his head, and he closed his eyes. He could sense the guiding force and the peace and love that were now only minutes away. He didn’t want to scare the humans, so he trotted quietly toward them. When he was just within their field of vision, he made sure his tail was wagging.

. . .

“Mama, look! It’s a dog.” The dog dropped to the ground and continued wagging his tail and—before Mom could stop him—BJ was up and running toward the creature. Then, the boy and the dog were wrapped up together, and the dog was licking the boy’s face.

“Well, bring him on over here,” Mom said. “Are you hungry there, little cow dog?” Mom scooped up some fish and checked it for tiny bones before offering it to the canine.

Cowboy ate what was offered and then sat next to BJ and looked from the fire to Mom and then back again. Over and over. “I found her, Dad,” he thought. “I found her.” He stood up and shook to make his tags jingle, and the boy grabbed his collar and tried to read one of the tags.

“Look, his name is COWBOY!” BJ looked up at Mom and said, “I’m kind of a cowboy, too,” and smiled.

Mom’s eyes suddenly looked wet. “Come over here, Cowboy,” Mom said. The dog and the boy both trotted over to Mom. She fingered his tags and saw the locket. The fire popped and sparks flew up toward the clouds. Her eyes widened. She opened the locket and saw the picture it contained.

It was a picture of her own face—almost. It was the face of her mother. She was sure.

The evening turned to night and the wind increased and became cold. But Cowboy was there to keep them warm and safe. Soon, they would be home. For the first time in a very long time, Mom felt at peace.

. . .

“I found her, Dad,” Cowboy thought. “She is safe.” His tail thumped the ground once, and he drifted off to sleep.