The Dog and The Yellow School Bus
There once was a dog named Ghotti who was a mutt. And every day Ghotti would sit in his owner’s house on a couch waiting patiently for a yellow school bus to bring his owner home.
And every day his owner came home at 3:30, except for today. For today was unusual, in that the yellow school bus never came. And tho Ghotti couldn’t read the clock on the wall, Ghotti knew the owner wasn’t coming home.
And yet Ghotti sat on that couch with his nose to the open window patiently, his head turning now and then to the sound of car coming up the road, only to be disappointed every time it wasn’t the yellow school bus.
And as the time passed by, Ghotti grew ever more anxious, patiently waiting for that yellow school bus to come.
And as Ghotti waited, ever so patiently, the dog grew tired and sad, and thought to himself in a way that only dogs can, that his owner was never coming home again. And at this thought the dog grew sad, and let out a whimper or two, perhaps even three. And the dog breathed heavy, fogging up the glass, only to leave an imprint of its nose against the fogged glass.
And still the time went by, going by ever so slowly, as the dog whimpered some more, it’s anxiety rising, and its head not moving an inch. And as every car drove up the road, the dog looked in hope, hoping for that yellow school bus to come.
And just when the dog began to get frantic, he heard a noise he knew too well. It was the sound of a breath that can only be created by an exhaust pipe of a bus, a bus that Ghotti only knew too well. And as Ghotti turned his head to the direction of that bus, now coming up the road, Ghotti saw a sliver of yellow enter his eye. And Ghotti knew then that all would be well, for as he looked on the yellow school bus appeared.
Now exited and happy, the dog still felt anxious, and started to breath even heavier and let out some more whimpers. But alas, these were not whimpers of sadness, but rather whimpers of joy. And as Ghotti got excited, the yellow school bus appeared in front of the window, and out stepped a little boy, of no more than 6.
And that boy was Jimmy, who Ghotti knew too well. And Ghotti got more excited, and whimpered some more, his breath fogging that cold winter glass over and over, watching more patiently as that boy step off the bus and walk up to his house.
And as the door opened, in walked Jimmy, and Ghotti lept off the couch and into the boy’s arms. And Jimmy smiled while Ghotti was in his arms, laughing as the patient mutt licked his face.
And from that day forward, Ghotti still waited patiently, even when Jimmy was late. But not to fear little boys and girls, for Jimmy always came home.