Gifts

I found him at the end of the promenade. He was thin from not eating. He was lying in the sun, sleeping. It was September then, and I knew I’d be leaving soon enough and that I’d be unable to keep him. I had no room for him and I knew it would be hard at the end but I couldn’t leave him there to die. I had seen him wondering the narrow alleys of the old town and sitting on the promenade begging for scraps. Winter was coming and that would have been the end for him.

His coat was reddish-brown and when I put the bowl of chicken down in front of him, he jumped up and went at it. The food was gone in less than a minute. He wagged his tail and I slipped the collar around his neck. He didn’t like it but he didn’t resist too strongly.

It was hot and the sun was beating down hard on the cement. The small fishing boats rocked gently side to side in the harbor. The water was brightly blue and the tourists came and went, without looking at us. The locals laughed and called me, malaka - Greek, for, not right.

Xavier, the Frenchman, who owned the bar at the end of our narrow alleyway on the island, patted the dog on the head and put out a bowl of water.

They don’t really have dogs as pets here, he explained. They have hunting dogs, that’s all, and when they can’t hunt.

He shrugged his shoulders. It was just after 12 and the bar was closed but Xavier always let me in when I came and he liked the dog.

What will you call him? He asked.

I looked at his sad, almond shaped eyes and his long face. He seemed wise to me and then he reminded me of someone I had known a long time ago.

I knew this fellow, I said, he kept walking across the country… he’d find work and a place to sleep wherever he could. His name was Tony.

Tony, said Xavier, I am pleased to meet you.

Tony wagged his tail and then put his head across my legs.

In November, Tony was heavier, and happy. We went everywhere together. I was the crazy foreigner who led his dog around on a leash. Despina, who owned a hotel near where I lived, stopped us one day.

When they see you, she said, they say, there goes that bastard and his dog. I laughed.

They’ve got it back words, I said - there goes that dog, and his bastard. She howled with laughter and Tony barked.

I spoke with Xavier. He had a friend, he said, who could help. I waited three days while the first heavy storms of the winter came to the island. The narrow streets and alleys became small fast rivers. Tony loved the water.

Xavier told me the story. I had to get Tony on to a ferry. Take the ferry to Piraeus, Piraeus to Athens and get him on a flight to Frankfurt.

Frankfurt to Houston, he said. My friend’s friend has a young boy. He just turned twelve. They are good people. They will love him and take care of him.

At the airport, as they lifted the heavy box with Tony inside of it, we looked at each other. He barked and wagged his tail. He sat down then, and just stared at me.

Sometimes, said Xavier, giving a gift takes courage, and it hurts, but it’s still the right thing to do.

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