“Can he drink outta the pond?” Benjamin asked innocently.

His mom made a face. “Uh, I guess if he’s outside.”

“He’ll need a collar in case he gets lost,” said Benjamin’s dad.

Grandpa Gus perked up. “Oh! That reminds me. I have one right here.”

Benjamin watched his grandpa reach into the pocket of his shirt and pull out a black leather collar with a silver-blue tag. Benjamin squinted as the tag caught the sunlight. His grandpa pulled the puppy around to face him and held the collar in his hand. “Now, Pugsly, you be a good friend to my little grandson here, okay? I love him very much.” The pug barked. Gus took the collar and wrapped it around the dog’s neck, turned to the boy’s parents, and smiled. “Keep this collar on Pugsly, will ya? I think he likes it.”

“We will, Dad, if it doesn’t blind us,” Benjamin’s mom joked as she shaded her eyes with her hand.

Benjamin stared at two gold symbols etched into the tag and pointed. “What does that say, Grandpa?”

“Oh that’s just a design. It makes it special, like Pugsly.” He looked into Pugsly’s eyes, rubbing the tag with his thumb. “You’re now a very important dog, Pugsly. You know that, right?” The dog barked again and the man stood up, laughing. “Alright, Benjamin. I need to see some friends this afternoon. You take care of this dog of yours.”

The old man picked up the cardboard box and the little boy hugged his legs. “Thank you Grandpa. I love him!” The excited pug stood upright on his hind legs and rested his front paws on Benjamin’s sun-burnt knees. Grandpa Gus said goodbye and left. Benjamin’s parents stood at the door, watching their son and his new dog wrestle.

That’s the way it was for years.

Of course, Benjamin soon started school. New friends came. Old friends left. The Losing Lions continued their winless streak. The boy and his dog grew older. But no matter what happened in Benjamin’s life, he and Pugsly remained best friends. If Benjamin was away, he knew his little tan pug with one black paw would be waiting for him when he got home.

And just like this, eight years passed since that warm afternoon on the back porch when Benjamin Biggs received his special gift.

CHAPTER TWO

An Interesting Morning

THE MORNING STARTED OUT DREARY. Through the small window an overcast sky bathed twelve-year-old Benjamin Biggs’s basement bedroom in gray light. He awoke to the last full week before his first day of seventh grade. Saturday mornings always meant a good breakfast of homemade biscuits and gravy. The clanking of his mom’s pans on the stove-top upstairs brought a hungry smile. He loved Saturday mornings.