A Calf Named Brian Higgins
156
They each had a piece of chapati. Then Wilkister put
the rest in a plastic container for dinner. They walked out
the wooden door and through the maize fields several
minutes, winding their way around. Hannah wondered
how people ever found their way anywhere out there.
As they approached his hut, Kiano called out,
“Jimmy!” and a medium sized light brown smiling mutt
ran toward him. He reminded Hannah of the dog, Sandy,
from the play,
Annie
. She squatted down and he put his
front paws on her knees, licked her face and shook all over
with excitement. Looking up she said, “No way! This is his
house?” Kiano laughed and nodded.
Jimmy lived in a doghouse behind their hut made
from pieces of plywood and slats of tin for a roof, just like
the old flour mill. The tin roof extended on one side like
an awning that reached over the open side of the doghouse
for Jimmy to be able to lounge and watch over Kiano and
his family. Jimmy and his cool doghouse made Hannah
like Kiano even more.
Hannah heard what sounded like pebbles hitting the
tin roof of Jimmy’s doghouse. She felt drops of water on her
head and arms and looked up. The sky had turned a deep,
stormy grey. The rain caught all three of them completely
off guard. It fell steady—there was no wind blowing it
from side to side—but still, a complete downpour within
seconds.
Jimmy escaped into his doghouse.
