“Go on!” shouted the man. “Git!”

The dog, not knowing what sin he had committed but sensing that it was a great one, nonetheless could not leave behind such a temptation as was presented to him by the fishy water. He attempted to get in one more lick. In hesitating, he doomed himself. The man, irritated beyond reason at being disobeyed by a dog, rushed forward. Swinging his leg back, he delivered a ferocious kick to the dog’s underside.

“I said git!” he repeated, as if perhaps the dog had simply not heard him the first time.

The dog, who had fallen to the ground, looked up at his attacker with uncomprehending eyes. He wagged his tail limply and gave a little whine, for which he was rewarded with another blow. Stunned, he tried to stand and run, but could only sway slightly from side to side. His tail continued its back-and-forth motion, as if he still believed he could save himself.

As the man prepared to strike again Charlie, who had been watching the encounter from across the street, found himself running at great speed toward him. As he ran, he raised his fist, so that when it connected with the side of the man’s head, it did so with enormous force. The man, caught not only by surprise but off balance, flew into the wall, where his head met the brick with a dull thud. Like the dog, he attempted to stand, but without the benefit of a wagging tail he found the effort too great, and collapsed to the ground.

Charlie, kneeling before the dog, caught the trembling creature up in his arms. As he walked away, the dog looked into his face. Charlie could feel its heart beating through the bony cage of its chest. When its warm tongue licked his hand, he screwed up his eyes against the brightness of the sun and breathed deeply.

“Why’d you do that for?” Tom appeared at Charlie’s side. His breath smelled of beer.

“It wasn’t right,” Charlie said.

Tom scratched his head. “It’s jus’ an old dog,” he informed Charlie, as if perhaps this was knowledge his friend did not possess. “An old dog,” he repeated.

“He shouldn’t of thrown a rock at it,” said Charlie. He shifted the dog in his arms, cradling its hind legs as he might a baby. “It’s just hungry is all. It wasn’t bothering nobody.”

Tom whistled. “You know who that was you knocked down back there?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “That was Poker Greenwood. You don’t want to mess with Poker.” He shook his head wearily at the tragedy of the situation.

“Too late for that,” said Charlie. “I already done it. Besides, he shouldn’t of hurt this dog.”