At first, I was angry and refused to reply to any of the letters he sent. Then one day, I received a huge box stuffed full of cards from birthdays, Christmas, Halloween and every holiday in between. Some looked old and some looked new but they all said the same thing. “Dreaming of when we will spend this day together.” Since then, we talk every day and he has become one of my best friend’s.
“Okay, boy, were gonna go take a break. What do you say?” Yes, talking to my dog is now becoming a habit. Most likely, a bad one. I need to make sure that no one is around when I do it or I'm going to end up looking like one of the crazy people who think their animal is sending them messages from the other side. That would not be a good thing. I have enough problems without adding insanity into the mix.
I pull off at the next rest stop and park close to the area designated for dogs. I let Beast out and he shakes his coat and stretches his legs in front of him. We walk over to the grass and I hear another vehicle pull in. I turn around to see if the person getting out has a dog as well. I don’t want to break up a dog fight, and I have no idea how Beast will react to other dogs. I notice that the car that pulled in is still running and no one is getting out.
The car is a silver Ford Edge with New York plates. The windows are tinted so dark that you can’t see anything inside. Something buzzes across my skin. Beast must feel it too because he starts to growl. Trying to act casually, we start walking back towards my car. I see the back passenger-side door on the Edge open. That’s when I run with Beast running right along beside me. I get my door open and he jumps across my seat.
I'm just able to get the door closed when I see a guy walking in my direction. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black jeans. The hoodie is up so I can’t make out any details of his face, but I know he’s white because his hands are resting on his hips. Without a second look, I put my car in reverse and press the gas pedal. Boxes go sliding as I turn my car to get out of the rest area. I slam the car into drive and start speeding away. I don’t see the Ford Edge in my rearview mirror. My heart is going a million miles a minute and I keep checking for any signs of the Edge. Fortunately, it’s nowhere in sight.
I start thinking about the whole situation and realize that my imagination is going a little crazy after being attacked. I mean, really, what are the chances that someone from New York would follow me just to try and hurt me again. A few hours later, there’s no sign of the Edge when I check my GPS. I have less than two hours until we get to my dad’s. Looking down at my gas gauge, I see that I have to stop soon to fill up. With that thought, my once calm heart starts to speed up again.
It’s after seven at night and the interstate is quiet with just a few cars traveling but there are lots of semis on the road. The next exit offers every kind of fast food available so I'm hoping there will be a lot of people there. No, not just people. I'm hoping for the scary trucker type of people. I exit the interstate and pull into the most well lit gas station around. There are a few other cars getting gas so I get out and go inside to pay. There is a Dunkin’ Donuts and, like a parched man in a desert, I find myself standing in front of their counter. After getting my coffee, paying for gas, and getting another bottle of water for Beast, I step out into the parking lot. Looking around, I walk quickly to my car.
“That’s a beautiful dog you have there.”
Screaming and stepping back, I almost fall over the hose that is going from the pump into my car. “Sorry I scared you, honey. I just saw your dog and he’s a beaute.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say while holding my chest. Getting a look at the guy, he looks harmless. He’s dressed a lot like Santa Claus, including the suspenders with a red and black plaid shirt tucked into his jeans and black boots. I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. He smiles back.
“Russ,” he says, sticking out his hand.
“November,” I say, shaking his back.
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Great Dane, I think. I'm not sure. I only looked up pictures online after I found him. His name is Beast.”
“You found him and named him Beast,” he laughs.
“Well, actually, it’s a long story but I guess he kind of found me.”
“That I believe!” he says with a sad look on his face. “You take care of him and he’ll take care of you, honey. I used to have a dog like that and he traveled everywhere with me. Even took my back a couple times when I got into a jam. They really are man’s best friend.” He looks so lost talking about his dog that I wanted to say something but didn’t know what. I reach my hand out and squeeze his. He squeezes mine back then I drop mine to my side and gave him a small smile.
“Welp, gotta hit the road. Have a load to drop off in Nashville. You drive safe.”
“You too,” I say as he walks to a semi with the word yellow written on the back and climbs inside. Then, without thinking, I lift my fist up in the air and pull down. With that, he blows his horn and is on his way. I can’t help the smile that hits my face.
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My GPS announces that we have reached our destination as I'm driving up a long private road. In the distance, I see large blue house with a white wraparound porch. Sitting in the dark in a rocking chair is my dad. I slow down to take him in. He has his bare feet stretched out in front of him with a cup in his left hand. He’s wearing jeans with a V-neck blue long sleeve T-shirt. His dark hair barely touches the collar of his shirt and is pushed back from his face. His skin looks tan, like he spends a lot of time out in the sun, but around his eyes is lighter. He probably wears sunglasses when he’s out enjoying the sun.