Chapter 19

Canine Surprise

The junk rally was still going strong in Ashland. On Tuesdays, Johnny, Spot and I collected from our neighbors. One afternoon, we stopped by Mrs. Sizemore’s house to pick up an old metal chair and a few tin cans.

“Look, Grace Ann,” Johnny said. Johnny pointed to Spot, who ran over to three little puppies rolling around the yard.

“Would you kids know anyone who would like a puppy?” Mrs. Sizemore asked.

“What kind of dogs are they?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, they’re a little of this and a lot of that and not much of any one breed, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Sizemore said. “But they’re cute. And sweet. I’m keeping two, but I need to find a good home for one.”

I walked over and saw three bundles of fun rollicking around in the grass. One looked like a husky, one like a hound and one like Lassie in the picture show Johnny and I saw. “I might have a home for the yellow puppy,” I said. “Could we borrow her for a few minutes?”

Mrs. Sizemore wrapped the puppy in a blanket. I carried the little bundle while Johnny pulled the wagon up the path to Mr. Wick’s house.

As we walked into his yard, he walked around the house carrying a big sack stuffed full of something.

“Hello, Grace, Johnny. Hello, Spot,” Mr. Wick said. He laid the sack on the ground and rubbed Spot’s head. “A fine specimen of a canine, right here.”

Spot pranced and danced and set his tail in a wild swing.

A few strange-looking pods rolled out of the sack. “What’s that?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, that?” Mr. Wick asked. “I’ve been up in the hills collecting milkweed pods for the government. They’re used to fill life jackets for the marine and navy personnel. These pods might help save a life.” He looked sad as he talked. I knew he was thinking about his son. He pointed to the bundle I held firmly to my chest. “I’m going to ask you the same question. What’s that?”

Suddenly, I froze. What if Mr. Wick didn’t want a dog? My mouth refused to move. I wanted to say, “We’ve got to go,” but before the words formed, my little bundle wiggled and squirmed and yipped. She must have been too hot under the blanket.

“What have you got in there?” Mr. Wick asked.

The puppy popped her head out of a hole in the blanket and yipped again. I pulled back the blanket and set the little collie on the ground. She ran straight to Mr. Wick, tumbled and rolled.

“Mrs. Sizemore is looking for a home for the little girl,” I said. “Do you know anyone who might be interested in having some canine company?”

Mr. Wick looked at me.

“We thought you might be interested,” Johnny said.

Mr. Wick cast his eyes toward Johnny. He turned his back, picked up the sack of milkweed pods and walked up the steps to his porch. “Too late to make up for past mistakes,” he said. “I needed a dog when John Mark was young. Got no use for one now.” He opened the front door and walked inside his house. I noticed the “sons of service” flag with the gold star still hung in his window.

I grabbed the feisty little puppy, and we returned her to Mrs. Sizemore.

“Do you think Mr. Wick is mad at us, Gracie?” Johnny asked a few minutes later as we hauled another wagonload to the collection center.

“Maybe,” I answered. Probably, I thought. “I guess we shouldn’t have taken the dog to him without asking first. He feels bad about not giving his son a collie. We reminded him of something he’d rather forget.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said. He voice dripped with sadness.

We wheeled five more wagonloads of junk to the collection center that day. Spot trotted along on each trip. By the time we returned home, Grandma and Mom had supper on the table. I told them about collecting for the junk rally. I wanted to forget about Mr. Wick and the puppy, but that’s all Johnny had on his mind.

“Your heart was in the right place,” Grandma said. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

After supper, we listened to the wireless. The newsman said, “This report just in. Yesterday, August 25, the Allied troops entered Paris, France. France is now free of German Nazi rule.”

“Glory be,” Mom said and clapped her hands. Grandma, Mom, Johnny and I hugged and hugged; then we walked over to the big wall map and found Paris.

We still hadn’t gotten a letter from Daddy. Mom figured that he was so busy with the troops he didn’t have time to write.

“Gumption,” Grandma said as she reminded us daily to think positive thoughts.

A knock drew our attention away from the map. I ran across the room and opened the front door. Mr. Wick stood there with his hat in his hands. “May I come in?”

I stood back to let him enter. “Mr. Wick, I’m sorry about bringing the puppy to you without asking.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Grace,” he said. “I was wrong. I hope I can learn from my mistakes. John Mark would have wanted me to give that little collie a home. You said something about canine company. I could use some canine company in my life about now. That is, if she’s still available.”

Johnny and I walked to Mrs. Sizemore’s house with Mr. Wick. When we arrived, the little collie was rolling around the yard with the two other puppies. Mr. Wick picked up the yellow dog and looked it over. The furball licked his face.

“A girl, I see,” Mr. Wick said. “I wonder how the name Holly would fit?” He looked at me and then at Johnny.

“Holly the Collie,” I said.

“The name fits,” Johnny agreed.

“This is one fine specimen of a canine,” Mr. Wick said as he held the puppy in his arms.

I was happy for Mr. Wick and Holly the Collie. Mr. Wick found a canine friend, and the puppy found a home.

With all the good news, I grabbed a V-mail letter and wrote to Daddy to tell him all about Holly the Collie and Johnny, Spot and me working the junk rally. I folded the V-mail and addressed it.

I hoped Daddy found his way back home soon.