Solutions: A Dog's Dilemma by James Gerard (book suggestions .TXT) 📕

 The sun beamed down its flaming heat early in the summer morning.  Rick knew that the further he walked along the road the pouring heat would grow in its intensity.  He was too excited to have thought of water, food, or covering for his fair skin that was already starting to burn.  He realized that the lack of necessities could impede the progress, but the hope of a passing bus having pity on him was somewhat of a comforting thought: Nevertheless, determination was his strength.

The road once again posed a question.  He knew he had been on the right path, but up ahead the road split into different directions once again.  We went straight ahead, he thought.  I know we went straight.  Looking to the left and to the right, however, he could not be sure.  A constant cloud of dust and pings from bits of rocks and sand ricocheting off the front and from underneath the water truck flooded the memory of the way they went.  He visualized what it would have looked like if the truck had veered to the left or right.  I would have seen the truck ahead clearly.  His hand motioned to the left and right.  I would have seen a side view of all the trucks.  We definitely went straight.

Now and then Rick spun around in reaction to a sound, looked for a distant vehicle coming up from behind, but the wind was playing tricks.  He scanned the fields that surrounded the road in hopes of spotting a building, a tractor, an animal, anything that would indicate the presence of someone that could help him through the dilemma he was facing, but no such help was spotted.  Even the mountains which stood far off just above the horizon, their crowns poking into the clear blue of the sky, were of no help.  Only the ominous sign of wild grasses and plants of various sorts baking in the scorching heat, swaying from side to side in the slight breeze that swept across the desolate plain of weeds and dried out husks—and in them was no help at all.

As the hours passed, the heat intensified.  Thoughts of water consumed the mind.  He stepped off the road and out into the field of grass.  Footsteps crunched the blades that towered up to his knees.  Bits and pieces of debris stuck to his pants.  Eyes scanned the surface hoping to see dark soil, but none could be found.  Hands dug into the dirt shoveling away the dry gritty granules, but the only sign of moisture was the dust clinging to the sweat leaking from pores.   There was no water to be found.  There was no sight of any kind of oasis off in the distance.  The sky was bright and blue.  The sun was strong and steady.

He continued down the road, looking behind him and off to the sides now and then, and realized that he would have to rely on his ability to persevere.  Too many laborious jobs in the past had proven a strong desire to work through all kinds of obstacles.  Jobs that tested his resolve with shovels and picks, with bending and lifting, with carrying and moving, with a break and with no break, with water and no water, with food and no food, with time constraints and with endless hours to get the job done, with heat that fried the skin and cold that numbed the senses.  With that in mind Rick realized Santa Rosa was somewhere ahead, and no matter what, he was determined to make it there.

The day turned into night.  The Moon relieved the sun and took over the watch.  The cold night air replaced the sheer heat that had tortured Rick through the day’s trek. No signs of life were detected stirring about the steady cool breeze.  No headlights in any direction.  No beacons of light from houses or shacks or sheds could be seen nearby.  Only the reflected light of the Moon provided a somewhat clear view of the road ahead.  He started to tremble.  The body was weak and thirsty and hungry.  It shed the heat, the warmth that had baked in during the day.  He knew the only way to beat the exposure was to keep the muscles active by moving down the road.

Though the need for sleep popped up into his thoughts, he knew that sleep would be impossible as cramps and cold would attack the body and be relenting with torture through the night.  Eyes scanned the road.  If only, he pleaded, a piece of discarded cardboard, a trash bag, newspaper, anything to fend off the cold.

“Come on God,” he whispered.  “I know I don’t know much about you but can you help me?  Will you give me a break?  Some water, some food, a blanket, anything God?”

Rick stopped in mid-stride and looked to the sky filled with pinpoints of light and the waxing moon.  He knew Heaven was up there and that God had to be there too, but he couldn’t see.  He couldn’t see God.  Visions from that movie he saw about Moses filled his mind.  Remembrances of the tone and pitch and volume of God’s voice, the light from the burning bush, the parting waters were lifted up from the memory.  But God had no form.  He just had a voice.

Through the partial reading of the book, memories of various movies, what had been preached to him in the many soup kitchens he had eaten at, what he had heard and seen on television, he still didn’t have a clear picture or image of God.  He was still unsure of God’s powers, but he began to believe he could perform miracles.

Show me a miracle, he thought.  How about making it rain.  Turn one of these rocks into a soda, cheeseburger, and fries.  How about a can of soup, a bologna sandwich with mustard?  Something.  Anything.  Silence was the answer.  Do you hate me, do you?  Do you want me to have a lousy life?  Do you want me to suffer?  I know I’m a lousy human being God.  I know that I’ve hurt so many people, but please give me a break.

The sound of the wind rustling through the arid fields was the only response, and before Rick knew it the sun had risen and the Moon had vanished from the light of the morning.  There was still nothing in sight that gave him hope that the village was near.  He could not guess how many miles Santa Rosa was from the airport, but he figured he had to have walked a good forty, fifty miles or so since yesterday morning. It had to be close.  Pain and soreness in feet and knees and thighs tortured his strength with each step.  Thirst began to dominate every thought with each passing moment.

He looked to the fields again and spotted what looked like a ditch further off to the side.  A stream, he thought.  He stared at the path and rocks and pebbles that lay below and wondered if they were hiding any water beneath.  Sliding down the slope of the dry channel his legs collapsed onto the rocky bed.  A few rocks were removed and tossed away to reveal what he had hoped to see, but he did not see it.  Fingers dug into the soil only to discover more rocks beneath.  He kept digging, fingers making their way underneath to larger rocks, one by one dislodged and removed.  There was no water in sight.   The only moisture present was felt in dark soil within his hands.  Rick tried to dig deeper, but larger and larger rocks blocked the way to any water that may have been hidden below.

The moist dirt in his hand spoke of hope.   It looked to remedy the desperation within his body.  The dirt was crammed into the mouth with the hopes of extracting any water that was dispersed within.  But it wasn’t working.  What little moisture there was could not be extracted.  Climbing out of the trench he looked to the grass that was growing along the edge.  It looked lush and green.  He grabbed a handful of the blades and chewed on them.  Moisture filled the cavity but he couldn’t discern the difference between water and saliva.  It didn’t matter.  It was wet and it was swallowed.   But despite the little hope the grass provided, Rick sat there paralyzed for hours afraid to move, to take one more step knowing there could be no water ahead.

The day advanced.  The heat was unforgiving.  The sun beat him down, but handful after handfuls of grass he had shoved into pockets was now shoved into his mouth and chewed and swallowed.  “You see,” he whispered, “I’m going to make it with or without your help.”

Along the way a crackling sound was detected.  Hope came to life.  A bus?  A car?  Someone doing some work with a power tool?   The source of the sound was in sight.  The sight, however, turned the hope into misery.  A utility pole had snapped in half.  A severed electrical cable spewed sparks into the air.

Thoughts of snagging the cable securely at one end, redirecting the hot end with a whipping motion into the dry stalks, starting a wild fire filled the thoughts; a smoke signal to call fire crews.  But he could not bring himself to do it for fear of killing anything innocent that may be lying out amidst the dry landscape.

Come on, he shouted to the air, you have more than one damn bus don’t you?  Where are you, anyone, someone, I don’t care.  The road did not deliver what he had so longed for.  No bus.  No car.  No jeep.  No truck.  All there was surrounding his eyes was a stretch of dirt behind and ahead that spoke of hopelessness.

As if walking aimlessly in no particular direction, Rick realized the day was near its end.   He also realized the weight from the burdensome fatigue was taking its toll with each step.  Thoroughly sunburned, dying of thirst, ravaged with hunger, exhausted, and his body agonizing with each step, angry thoughts plagued his mind.  “Why are you doing this?” he screamed.  His eyes welled up.  “Why?  What do you want from me?  If you help me I swear I will do what you want.  Damn it, what the hell do you want me to do?  What do you want from me?”

“Will you answer me already!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.  “Can you hear me God?”  Rick shook his fist toward the sky, “Am I just a dog to you?”

Silence.

It was too much for Rick to take.  The legs revolted and refused to go any further.  The belly and the throat screamed for the thirst to be quenched.  The eyelids took charge over the eyes.  The eyes were once more forced to scan the side of the road for any sign of water, but instead they just led to an outcrop sitting alone in the parched field.  The legs obeyed for the last time and stumbled their way to the rocks.  Hands felt the warmth stored inside a large rock from the heat of the day.  The body ached.  The belly was commanded to ignore the absence of water.  With one last effort he uttered, “Where are you?” and collapsed into unconsciousness.