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the touch of her softness made my heart tremble.

I asked her what she was doing out in this brutal weather, but she did not respond. I told her to go home, but she said nothing. Then suddenly, swirling arctic wind made me rush to the garage to take cover. I summoned her to come in and she blurted out a lonely screeching cry. I attempted to comfort her by brushing her hair away from her face and told her I would return.

As I headed back into my house, I could see her peering out of the garage door window. I felt her anticipation for food, and when I returned, she was turning in circles. She devoured the toss-together meal as if it was her last. Hurriedly, I went back into the house for more food. As she ate, I went and laid a blanket on the patio lounge. I told her she was welcome to stay until she is ready to go home. Soon after, I left for work.

On my way home, I began to feel a great deal of empathy for the homeless female. I couldn't get her impoverished appearance out of my mind. I kept wondering if she had made her way back to her family. Even though, I know charity starts at home, I knew from firsthand experience the reality of being used. I just didn't want to have to endure a past of jumble of events. I knew they would conjure up deep-rooted hurt feelings from sticking my neck out helping others. I have been burned too many times and I often thought if sucker was written on my forehead in indelible ink. Nevertheless, I hoped she would still be there, nestled in the heavy blanket I left so I could finish my Good Samaritan deed.

About four blocks from home, I prepared myself for the possibility that I would not be able to finish my good-hearted goal. I calmed my zealous confidence using the old counting to ten theory. It was working because I kept thinking how supportive the girls, Daisy Mae and Mindy Lou would be. They would humbly accept the possibility of a new baby sister.

The car radio was tuned to Fort Wayne's Magic 95.1. They were playing the oldies from my teen years. I heard the faint music of The Captain and Tennille. They were singing "Love Will Keep Us Together." The song's words were doing a tug-of-war number with my emotions. I thought of switching the music to rock. With the volume at an ear-piercing loudness, it would force a hard-heartedness. It worked and I felt prepared for anything.

Entering the driveway, I pushed the remote control to open the door. I drove in and shut down the engine. I sat a few minutes in the quiet starring stiffly forward. My mind kept repeating a line from that oldie song, "You belong to me now." I turned the key on so the radio would make music to forestall the negative presupposition she is gone struggle.

Nonchalantly, I started to look for her; saw nothing. Presumed gone. I swung open my door and like a shooting star, she jumped up on my lap - brushing and turning - her head against my chest; purring those feelings of love. Gleefully, I caressed my seductress southern belle in my arms and crowned her Samantha Jo. She climbed higher up around my neck and I smoothed my cheeks over her soft fur. Instantly, my mind recognized the music playing. The singer sung the line describing what I was feeling and I whispered to her those words: "The Lion Sleeps Tonight."

I am happy to report Sammie Jo filled my life with thirteen years of happiness.

Learn more about this author, Ben Rayman.
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