Chapter 4 – Hank Waterman
Hank Waterman stood on the sidewalk holding the three-month-old Havanese close to his chest. He scanned the street and noticed Jennie Ford approaching from a few feet away and for an instant considered freeing the young pup until the young girl had passed. Instead, he grasped the squirming dog tighter to his chest.
He watched the girls’ slim figure, dressed in white canvas shorts and tight blue t-shirt, pony-tailed black hair flying in the wind as she jogged toward him. Inwardly, his thoughts turned to lust. She might be ‘just a kid’ but that didn’t stop his body from yearning or his groin from aching with desire. Acting the respectable male adult had its difficulties, sexual desire being one of the most challenging to conceal. His weight shifted from left leg to right while he steadied his short wide frame and cast his cold black eyes upon the approaching girl.
She flew by without a nod or acknowledgement of his existence. Didn’t surprise him any. What young woman in her right mind would find a forty year old, jagged faced balding man appealing? He hadn’t met one yet.
The pup let out a barely audible sharp bark and wriggled in the grip of Hank’s powerful arms and calloused fingers, a futile attempt to free himself from the confinement.
“There, there little fellar,” Hank cooed in an effort to soothe the animals guardedness. “You and me are going to get along just fine, you’ll see.”
Hank Waterman had been at his job at the City of Sacramento’s Animal Care Services longer than any other employee. His main functions consisted of the pickup of stray animals, which he’d bring back to the shelter Simply put; he was what they used to call the Dog Catcher only now they gave it the fancy name of Animal Rescue Service Provider. Most wouldn’t call the cities actions of euthanizing an animal after holding it for 72 hours equal to animal rescue. Moreover, that was only if the animal was free from injury or sickness. They killed those poor little bastards the moment he brought them into the shelter.
The majority of people couldn’t stomach his job knowing the ultimate outcome from the bulk of his rescues. It didn’t bother him in the least. In fact, he looked forward to every opportunity of picking up a stray dog or cat. His secret joy came from the few times he volunteered to perform clean-up work and scrape their splattered remains off the city streets. What he’d give for that job, ‘cept it didn’t pay worth a damn and the hours fluctuated depending upon necessity.
A small growl filled the silence of the afternoon and the young dog bit at his captures fingers producing a few small puncture wounds.
“You little son of a bitch,” a startled Hank screamed reflexively bringing the injured digits to his mouth, sucking in the fresh blood such wounds generate, now clutching the dog against his side. As Hank lifted the frightened puppy, streaks of his blood smeared the once snow-white fur of the Havanese.
Tucking the puppy under his jacket, Hank walked toward his 97 Ford Ranger, a smirk of distain upon his face. Sounds of offbeat rhythms’, clashing cords and flat toned melodies filled his head.
~~~
Five-year-old Jennifer Hastings stared through the rain-soiled glass window, brushing away the tears of sadness from her face, seeking the appearance of her beloved Shermie. Where could he be? He was only a baby, a mere puppy. Jennifer’s’ thoughts were burdened with the guilt only a child could possess. It was all her fault! Mommy had told her to keep Shermie inside but he wished to romp and play outdoors. Why had she left him alone? She didn’t think it was wrong, she didn’t mean him any harm. It was such a little bit of time and now he was gone.
A bit of hope soared through her fretful mind as she heard Mommy calling, “Shermie, where are you boy? Shermie! Shermie! Shermie! Come here baby!
When Mommy entered the room empty-handed and no Shermie following her, Jennifer knew she had done the most awful thing. She’d abandoned the best friend in her life and the tears fell freely while her melancholy heart broke with sorrow.
The stroke of her mothers’ hand upon her raven tresses gave little comfort. The beautiful snow colored Shermie was lost, hurt, or maybe even dead. Jennifer crumbled to the floor, lost in a tearful fit of grief. There would be no words to take away such deep pain.
~~~
Hank snickered, the satisfied sneer of a man accomplishing his sense of duty.
The Havanese whimpered with hunger and fright, now locked in the internment of the cold steel wired cage. He yearned for the touch of his master. He shook of this newfound horror.