top of page
Search

Excerpted Inspirations #227

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • 13 minutes ago
  • 0 min read
[An accident has left Lester confined to a wheelchair. His wife now works to support the family, and Lester is the stay-at-home parent of Henry and Helen.] He began to plan for Henry now. What would Henry naturally want? Just what any little boy wanted. The recipe was well-known: Playmates of his own age, a “gang”; some kind of shack in the woods to play pirate; games, lots and lots of games; a pet of his own; perhaps a job at which he could earn real money to spend on a baseball mitt or a bicycle. Why, Henry didn’t have a single one of those things. And he was eleven years old. That afternoon when the children came home, he waited until they had unpacked their minds of the school-news, and then asked casually, “Say, Henry, wouldn’t you like to have a puppy to bring up? I used to think the world of my dog when I was your age.” A quick startled look passed between Henry and Helen, a look rather wild with the unexpectedness of their father’s question. Henry flushed very red and looked down dumbly at his piece of bread and butter. Helen spoke for him, placatingly, “You see, Father … you see … Mother never wanted Henry to … but … well, Henry has a puppy, sort of.” Seeing nothing but expectant interest in her father’s face, she went on, “Old Mrs. Hennessy’s Laura had puppies about six weeks ago, and Mrs. Hennessy said Henry could have one. Henry always did want one, so. And Henry” – her accent was increasingly apologetic – “Henry sort of did pick out one for his. It’s white with black spots. Awfully cunning. Noontimes Henry runs over from school to the Hennessys’ to play with it. Mrs. Hennessy and Laura are weaning the puppies now. He’s beginning to lap milk. Oh, Father, haven’t they got the darlingest red tongues! Henry’s named him Rex. Mrs. Hannessy said Henry could keep it at her house, because Mother …” [They discuss the possibility that their mother might let Henry bring the dog home after all, and when Lester asks her that night, she agrees.] […] Lester had quite forgotten about the dog that evening as he pottered around the kitchen over some last tasks.… [H]is ear caught the stealthy sound of bare feet on the stairway. He turned his head towards the door and saw Henry hurrying in on tiptoe. He opened his lips to make some joking inquiry about whatever it could be that kept Henry up so late, but the expression on the child’s face silenced him. Good heavens! Had he cared so much as that about owning a dog! Henry came up to him without a word and leaning over the wheel of the invalid-chair, put his arms around his father’s neck, leaning his cheek against his father’s shoulder. “Oh, Father!” he said in a whisper, with a long tremulous breath. He tightened his arms closer and closer, as if he could never stop. Lester patted the little boy’s back silently. He was thinking, “I hope he’ll come like this to tell me he’s in love and has been accepted. I don’t believe he’ll be any more stirred up.” The child’s body quivered against his breast. After a time Lester said quietly, “Better get to bed, old man. You’ll take cold, with your bare feet.” Docilely and silently Henry went back upstairs to bed. Dorothy Canfield, The Home-Maker (1924), pp. 226-227, 230-231

 
 
 

Comments

  • Black YouTube Icon
  • Black Facebook Icon

The views expressed on this website are the opinions of their authors, and may not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any other author, agency, or organization, including Deborah's Tree.


©2020 by DEBORAH'S TREE. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page