In The Bosom
Zeke whimpered with uncontrolled fear and Rich held him close to his chest. “We will be okay, Zeke. don’t worry.”
“How is it we judge good and bad me?” Rich said. “Except for those whose very nature is repulsive and evil. Who of us has not done bad and wanted to be absolved? Hugo killed man. That is terrible. Yet his life has been a good one, since. Does justice require he now pay for it or has he not demonstrated he is a good man; he has been redeemed. His life stands as more of a lesson in redemption than the statue over Rio. Hugo inspires me. His one rash act caused him to lead of life of good. That is truly inspiring. That statue is cold and unfeeling; it is creepy. God cannot be like that. Those who are inspired by that statue become like that statue. God is revealed in good people, with kind acts not lifeless cold stone.”
Zeke licked Rich’s hand.
“You agree.” Rich stroked his head. “I see more of God in you than I do in that statue. You are God’s creation. Your instincts are loyalty. That’s a godly quality. I want to be loyal and dependable. Not to some country or political ideology, but if possible to principles reaching beyond what man can grasp. It’s to know god, Zeke. Do you understand?”
Zeke yawned and snuggled into Rich’s bosom.
“Zeke, that’s where I want to be with god.”
They sailed for three days before leaving the coast of Brazil. It rained each day for a couple hours.
Nearly seven months passed since leaving Rockland. What planned to be a summer journey through the Strait now appeared to be more like late fall or winter. Rich wondered if that even registered as mentally reasonable.
The nights in the cabin glowed with a warmth that had not occured since Salty’s presnece aboard. Zeke was certainly a convivial addition. A dog can give hope to the most solitary of condtions. They breed trust and optimism to face any trying venture. Their loyalty is never in question.
Rich read aloud his stories to Zeke. The dog seemed to loose interest after a short period, but never abandoned his position, he was either in Rich’s lap or laying next to him. Only his attention strayed.
“Which one do you like best?” Rich said. “There are six to choose from; There is Barbuda Flower, A Tale of Two Dolphins, The Window by the Sea, The Waves and the Wanderer, The Eve of Never. The Never of Eve, and Only in Grenada.”
“When am I going to write about you, you ask?” Rich said. “I have to find the right plot. It isn’t as easy as you think. Believe me little friend, you will be written about.”
“Rio you say? Rio will make a good story,” Rich said. “Let’s hear what you have.”
“But you didn’t save my life,” Rich said. “You didn’t bite anyone to the bone.”
“I think you understand me already,” Rich said. “I really do. I wish I understood me. Will you tell me someday, will you?”
Montevideo appeared on the starboard bow the morning of the sixth day from Torres.