KURT

Once again, Kurt left the dog pound with his face sad, his heart hurting. He had his eye on a fluffy, curly dog with one blue eye and one dark brown. It was friendly and smart and should not have been in this horrible place, but none of them should and he couldn't rescue them all. He couldn't even rescue one. He'd asked his dad, but Burt reasoned that with him at the shop all day and Kurt at school, the dog would get bored and unhappy.

Burt was right, of course, but that didn't make Kurt feel any better. He fell in love with a new dog every week...cute ones, big ones, sad ones. He had a germ of an idea and started on it the same weekend.

Each Saturday and Sunday he accompanied his dad to the shop and pulled the weeds from the yard in back of the office. He dug up the old soil and added compost, planting grass seed. Then he took some old pallets and pulled them apart. He used the planks to make a large dog house, though he didn't show that to his dad. He even found a picnic table in need of a little TLC on craigslist and took his dad's truck to get it and bring it back to the shop.

When he was done, he was very proud of what he had accomplished.

“Hey, Dad? You have a minute?” he asked, going into the shop to find him.

“Sure, Kurt, what do you need?”

“Can you come out back here for a minute?”

“Yeah....” Burt said as he walked around the building to the back area. He knew Kurt had been cleaning things up in the back, but he never expected what he found. The yard was cleaned up, dying weeds replaced by rich looking soil. Around the outside of the fence were flower boxes with orange, gold, and red fall flowers blooming. Inside the yard was a dog house with a raised floor and a front doorway planned to keep the north wind from coming in. There was a refurbished picnic table, looking almost new with padded seats and a tablecloth. The old ivy had been weeded and was now climbing the south side of the yard along the fence to keep out too much sun.

“Oh, Kurt, this is beautiful,” Burt said, stunned at the transformation. “Me and the boys can eat lunch out here and play checkers.”

“The boys and I, Dad!” Kurt corrected his dad's grammar and got a fake sock-in-the-shoulder. Burt hugged Kurt close to his chest, squeezing tight before he let go.

“Is this all because I said you can't have a dog because it would be all alone at home?” Burt asked, then smirked when Kurt realized he couldn't argue.

“Yeah. I just thought – if I can show you how sure I am about wanting a dog, then maybe...?”

Burt rolled his eyes and smiled at Kurt.

“Well, let's get through winter, buddy, then talk about it,” Burt offered. Kurt frowned. He wanted a dog, but didn't know how much work it might be.

“I just want to help, you know? I want to make a difference to someone,” Kurt said.

“I know, buddy, Burt said to his son, “I know.”

BLAINE

Another day of rejection. Blaine had never tried harder to get something accomplished in his life. He had just about come to the end of his cash. He'd splurged on a blanket at the thrift store, but otherwise hadn't spent money on anything but food.

After five days of sleeping on the hard cardboard, he'd hit on the idea of gathering dry leaves – there were plenty of those around – and filling the box. He put the blanket on top of the leaves at first, making a softer place to lie down. Then he nestled in the leaves and newspapers with the blanket on top when it got really cold.

In the evening, when he ate his crackers and bit of cheese or some vegetables that had been given away as pet rabbit food, he'd sit in front of the box and watch the squirrels. Some days he saw the two dogs as they rambled up and down the bank of the river. When it got cooler, Blaine would sometimes start a fire in an old pot he'd found in the garbage. He could cook an egg in a tin can he cleaned up and have a hot breakfast.

The best he could come up with in terms of finding gainful employment was busking in the park. He didn't know if it was illegal, so he stopped at the first sign of a policeman. He sang songs that people requested, knowing a lot of music from all genres, and sometimes teamed up with a guitar player that frequented the downtown park in the early evenings.

Blaine took everything he earned, hid half in the locker at the bus station and half he used to buy food. He was getting desperate, though. At this rate, he would not be able to pay the Children's Hospital Foundation back until he was forty.

Walking down a new street one day, Blaine saw a bunch of kids his age in football uniforms. They were chasing another kid who was running, cutting through the bushes around the school grounds. He wanted to help in some way, so he pretended to trip just as the biggest of the boys ran past. He was a big guy, probably a linebacker or something, his clothes dirty from a workout and his short afro full of dry grass.

Blaine fell just in front of the leader, tripping him and at least three guys just behind him. He got up, apologizing to the team members as if it were an accident. The last thing he saw was their victim dodge around a building down the block.

That evening Blaine was walking back to his 'house' when he saw the same big guy walking through the park.

“Hey, aren't you the kid that tripped me today?” Azimio said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, I'm so sorry about that. I tripped on something in the sidewalk. I didn't hurt you did I?” Blaine asked.

“Of course you didn't. What do you think I am? A little girl?” the player asked, a sharp anger in his voice. Blaine's blood ran cold. If this guy wanted to hurt him...

Just as Azimio had gotten too close to Blaine, a dog stepped out of the bushes. He stood in front of Blaine. He faced the angry bully - his teeth showing and a deep growl in his throat. It was the ugly, mangy dog that Blaine had seen around his squatter place.

“Hey, that your dog? It is friendly, because it doesn't look friendly,” Azimio asked, staring at the dog and its teeth.

“Not very...especially if he thinks I am being threatened,” Blaine replied, hoping the dog would just stay there for a while.

Azimio was not fond of dogs, especially not big dogs. He turned tail and ran the other direction. Blaine smiled and crouched down to pet the dog who had just saved him from harm. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his nightly piece of cheese and split it in half. He gave the smaller piece to the dog.

“Let's go home,” he said and the dog fell into step with him. He'd gone several blocks before he realized he could hear the small terrier, too. It joined them and they walked down under the bridge to sit and eat supper.

In the morning, Blaine got up early as usual but today was different. The big dog had slept across the threshold of the small home under the bridge. The terrier was even more dirty than he -she?- had been before. The dogs both needed to be bathed and combed.

From that day on, Blaine wasn't alone anymore. All those days of crying himself to sleep in self-pity, knowing he put himself in this position through his own carelessness were just a bit better knowing he had the dogs. He missed his friends at school, he missed his lacrosse teammates and the Warblers. Most of all he missed his parents. He never wrote the letter to them to let them know he was working to repay the money. He was too ashamed of what he'd done through his own neglect.

When he got too melancholy, the dogs would try to lay close to him or try to get him to play. He didn't know how he got so lucky as to have them in his life, but he was grateful for them every day.

KURT

It was a chilly day today and Kurt was wearing the McKinley High hoodie and sweat pants he'd gotten when he was a member of the football team. He'd only been a member for a few weeks, but he'd been given several of these pairs of sweats. He laughed this morning, finding it funny that he finally found a place to wear them.

There were three new dogs in intake, picked up by the dog catcher this morning. They would be evaluated and placed in holding pens for ten days to see if their owner came to pay the fines and collect them. One was a pit bull terrier. He was a friendly sort, wagging what was left of his tail and appearing to grin with his raggedly torn ears and mouth full of shiny teeth.

Then there were two that seemed to go together. One was a mutt with long hair that looked as if someone had tried to comb him out but with little success. He was a rangy dog: long legs, pointy nose, and small tulip ears. His companion was a small female terrier of some kind, filthy as if she had rolled in the mud. Maybe Kurt could spray her off a little when he cleaned her pen. He couldn't really get her soaking because it was too cold.

Kurt processed the paperwork and led the dogs to the holding area. He really hoped they would be found by their owners.

BLAINE

Blaine had made more money than usual today. A third person, a chubby girl with dark brown curls and braces on her teeth came with the guitar player and brought a clarinet. They played several songs and Blaine joined in when they began to sing. There were a few more people than usual in the lunchtime crowd and they had been generous.

It was late afternoon when Blaine came back, happy because the old man at the small grocery had given Blaine two soup bones with the usual wilted vegetables. He had no way of cooking them, but he could give the bones to his dogs.

He walked down the path to his box house, looking it over. He'd been on the lookout for a new box. This one was sagging in too many places and beginning to have an unpleasant odor.

“Sandy, Ranger!” Blaine called. He had named the dogs as they hung around more. It was a few weeks, but now Blaine had begun to think of the dogs as his. He waited. The dogs usually met him as he walked down the path. He called them again, but nothing.

Blaine spent two hours walking all around the area, from the park in town to the river's edge, up and down the bank, calling to them.

He finally gave up for the night, it was too dark to see.

On his way back to his box house, he saw a girl that often walked her own dog along the path up by the bridge.

“Hey, are you looking for your dogs?” she called.

“Yes!” Blaine called back from where he stood. He was surprised that anyone had noticed him and his dogs.

“I saw the dog catcher chasing them...maybe he got them. You should keep them on a leash, you know. Now you'll have to pay a fine.”

He thanked her and asked about the whereabouts of the animal shelter.

“Oh, no...they wouldn't be taken there. No, they'd be in the dog pound way out on Jason Street,” she said, a sad look on her face.

“Thank you,” Blaine said, determined to go there in the morning to spring his companions from the dog jail.

KURT

“How are you today?” Kurt asked the two dogs he'd housed together in the large holding pen.

“That's Ranger and Sandy,” Caroline, one of the workers, said as she joined Kurt in the holding area.

“A kid was in here today, begging for us to give him back the dogs. I had to tell him there were some stiff fines before we could hand them over - $150 each for letting them run at large, $30 each for their rabies shot and $45 each for the city license.”

Kurt added that up in his head: $450 to get these two back out. He hoped the kid had the money to do it.

Kurt knew the rules. The dogs had ten days for their owner to claim them before they were available for adoption, then ten more days before they were put down. It didn't seem very hopeful.

Kurt went home that night feeling sad. He hated his punishment, he hated the dog pound, he hated all the rules. Caroline told him about the owner of the dogs. He was a cute kid, maybe Kurt's age, with curly black hair and big brown eyes. He'd come in and identified the dogs as his, then she told him about the fines. He had gotten weak at the knees and almost collapsed, then gathered himself and asked more questions. But no, she'd had to tell him, he could not pay down and then make the rest of the money up over time. No, there was no bending the rules. And finally, Yes, she would allow him to visit the dogs in their holding pen.

“I led him back there, Kurt, and he was down on that filthy floor with them right away. He hugged them both and sat with them as long as I would let him. He threw a rolled up handkerchief for them to catch and played with them all morning. It would have broken your heart, honey,” she finished.

Kurt didn't work on Tuesdays, but he was back at the dog pound on Wednesday. The first thing he found was that the owner of the dogs was sitting in the pen with them. Kurt stopped to watch for a few minutes before he began his duties.

The boy was talking to the dogs, throwing the balled-up handkerchief to them to catch. He was smiling at them, holding the terrier, Sandy, on his lap and stroking the bigger dog's head whenever he came close enough. Then Kurt was flabbergasted. The boy began to sing to the dogs in the most beautiful voice. He opened his eyes and looked over at Ranger, getting a glimpse of Kurt in the corner of his eye.

“Oh...sorry. Ranger calms down when he hears me sing. I didn't want to disturb anyone...” Blaine said, blushing at being caught singing.

“No, no...it's fine. I don't mind...you have a beautiful voice. I find singing can calm them down when the whole pound is having a bark-fest,” Kurt said, walking over and letting himself into the pen.

“I'm Kurt,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Blaine.” He shook Kurt's hand and gave him a smile. “You work here?”

“Yeah. Well, I'm not an employee. I am doing some community service. This is my punishment,” Kurt admitted. He didn't usually tell people about his transgression, it was not something to be proud of, but he felt that Blaine wouldn't judge him.

“Oh. But you take care of the dogs here?” he asked, his eyes curious.

“Yes, sort of. I clean their cages and feed them. I process paperwork. I'm here three days a week in the afternoons,” Kurt said, leaning down to pet Sandy, who was sitting up on her back legs and begging. “She sure is cute.”

“She is. And a champion rat catcher, too,” Blaine bragged. “She saved me from getting bit by a rat the first time I saw her.”

“Whoa...in your house?” Kurt asked, taking in the fact the Blaine looked as though he hadn't had a bath in...weeks? He was neatly dressed in work clothes, but not very clean. It was a stark contrast to the way he carried himself, as if he was a king. Blaine was a mystery.

“No...I was, ah...outside. I'd fallen asleep and the rat thought the cheese crumbs in my pocket would make a nice dessert. Sandy chased the rat, caught it and snapped it's neck. It was impressive,” Blaine said, looking into Kurt's eyes. He could see a kindred spirit there, he was sure.

“I know they let you come back here to visit your dogs, which isn't strictly by the rules. Caroline is a kind person. But I need to clean the pens. Here, I will show you where I put the dogs while I clean the floors,” Kurt directed. He called the dogs into the smaller cages and snapped the gates shut as quietly as he could. He hated slamming the gates and scaring the dogs.

“If you could wait outside – I don't want to splash you,” Kurt said and Blaine backed up but didn't leave the room.

Kurt made quick work of his duties, making sure all the floors were spotless before taking the pans and measuring out the food. He changed the water in the buckets and put down a blanket for the night and then let Sandy and Ranger back in. Blaine watched Kurt do his jobs and then asked if he could help with the other dogs in the area.

“You don't have to do anything, it's my duty,” Kurt said, surprised that anyone would want to pick up dog mess.

“I don't mind. I'd kind of like to help. You're the first person my age I've met in Lima – at least to speak to,” Blaine said.

“Well, then come along with me if you like, I'm always up for a conversation,” he smiled at the cute boy. For some reason he really liked Blaine.