I discovered Basil Heathrow, my deceased father's friend, to whom he entrusted me, was actually a familial spirit...
in other words, a ghost.
Although he was ethereal, he was more humane and more giving than my aunt whom the courts decided should raise me.
But Basil was not only a mentor but a loving friend.
His sage wisdom guided me through my school days and now through my young adult life and when he saw I needed companionship I asked if he meant I should find a wife, to which he smilingly replied I should start with a dog.
So, following his advice, I was at the Humane Society the very next day offering my services as a volunteer.
“Have you ever owned a dog?” the supervisor asked.
“No, I’m afraid not—my Aunt would have never allowed it.”
“Are you willing to learn?”
“Most definitely. But I figure it’s like being a parent—nothing prepares you.”
The older woman’s eyes crinkled as she broke into a warm smile. “I think you will do just fine. I’ll put you with Charlotte.”
“What breed is she?” I asked.
“Human, like you,” she chuckled, “You’ll shadow her and learn the ropes.”
At that moment a girl appeared at her door. She had long honey-coloured hair and huge brown eyes. “You called for me, Mrs. Simpson?”
“I did Charlotte. I want you to meet Cain Warren—he’s offered to volunteer and he’ll be shadowing you.”
She stared at me and I felt my stomach flip. She was beautiful.
I spent the rest of the day in a haze.
Charlotte had a soft voice and a gentle way—even the animals seemed to sense it and fell under her spell—as did I.
It was a very long week until I could be with her again, and I spent it dreaming of her every night.
When Saturday morning finally arrived, I walked into a scene of bedlam at the pound.
A puppy mill had been raided and the police had seized over fifty dogs—many were ill and malnourished. The kennels were swamped with animals in need.
Charlotte and I worked feverishly all day and by closing time, all the animals had been treated and boarded except one—a Golden Retriever puppy named Heart.
Charlotte wanted to take the puppy for the weekend but lived on the fifteenth floor of a downtown Toronto condo. I offered to board Heart seeing as I had recently rented an older Victorian house with a huge yard, right beside High Park.
Charlotte was hesitant because of my inexperience, but agreed to let me take the pup on condition she visit during the weekend to help me out.
She didn’t have to bend my arm.
“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked, her huge brown eyes studying mine.
“No, not at all. It’ll be fun,” I assured her.
She seemed to come to a decision. “Well okay, but I insist on going home with you and getting you set up for the night.”
Outwardly I nodded and quietly demurred, but inwardly, my heart was pounding in my ears.
We rode the subway together, sitting closely on a bench, Heart curled up and sleeping at our feet.
An older woman sitting opposite got up to leave and then, paused and leaned down to whisper to us, “Such a lovely couple—and with your little pup, already a family.”
Charlotte blushed and my heart leapt at the thought of the three of us.
As we walked down my tree-lined street, I wanted to grasp her hand, but had to resist the urge—still, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. It was lovely being with her.
“I love this house, Cain!” Charlotte’s eyes lit up, and the same surge of joy flowed through me as the first day I set eyes on it myself.
I persuaded her to stay for dinner and as I prepared pasta, she went about puppy-proofing the downstairs.
We fed *Heart *and he curled up on a blanket by the kitchen door.
We dined with candlelight and wine in my hitherto unused dining room listening to Thirties music while an April rain pelted the windowpane.
Afterwards, I lit a fire and we had coffee in the front room while flashes of lightning, like wavering moonlight, lit the windows.
The thunder’s din frightened Heart and he began to whimper, but Charlotte cradled him in her arms softly stroking his fur and whispering reassurances.
We sat there, the three of us, on the rug before the fire, in my darkened front room—the storm gnashing outside, and the three of us within, warm and fed and shut away from the black wetness without, safe in our oasis of peace.
