Ian silently pushed the door of his house open, letting it swing slowly on its hinges until it hit the white wall and rebounded slightly. The utter silence of the tiny domicile was devastating. There was no scrabble of nails on the linoleum, no joyous barks to welcome him home. Nothing. Just an empty canister, a snail's shell tossed unoccupied upon a beach, no longer a home to anyone, just a house, achingly empty, longing to be filled.

He dropped his briefcase onto the table and pulled open the refrigerator. Half a can of Alpo stared accusingly at him from the middle shelf. His hand passed it and grasped the neck of a Guanana bottle. Twisting off the cap he took a deep swig of the Brazilian pop drink. It was the same soda he had been drinking 13 years ago when he had been presented with an awkward big-footed puppy. The mutt had strutted about the house as if he owned it, acting as if he was the best thing since sliced bread. Ian shook his head sharply. He wasn't going to break down now. Alteran was gone and nothing would bring him back. Trying to ignore the lump in his throat he clicked on the TV, flipping through the stations to see what was on.

Absolutely nothing. Leaving the set on he wondered into the living room. An old dilapidated couch sagged in the corner; its cushions fuzzy with shed dog hair. An old chew toy was tucked half way beneath it. The threadbare carpet was littered with balls and unstuffed animals. Ian shoved his hands into his pockets and slumped out of the area before he could imagine the smiling face of his best friend looking up from the center of the carpet.

He slowly ascended the staircase. He remembered the first time Alteran had thundered up those stairs three years ago. A dog long used to the split-level house they had grown up in, he found them fascinating. He ran his hand solemnly along the indent in the wall where Alteran had crash-landed. In his last weeks Ian had to carry him upstairs to bed. He squashed the thought before it could progress any further.

Ian lay in bed, staring at the flickering lights on his ceiling caused by the passing traffic. He couldn't sleep. The shallow depression at the foot of his bed was cold and empty. The room echoed silently as he strained to hear the slightest noise, not even the ghost of a pant to keep him company.

When he finally slept, his dreams were full of large, footed puppies and great bounding longhaired mongrel dogs, dogs that constantly got in the way, shoving their fool heads where they didn't belong. They were friends that sat patiently by their companions, listening and saying by their presence alone, "It's okay. I love you." They were gentle giants that rolled in the grass teaching even the most timid of children that they could be friendly, and most of all, they were givers of unconditional love.

Ian couldn't bear the silence of his little house. Everywhere he turned there was another reminder of his best friend. He decided that a walk might help. He reached for the leash were it hung by the door and his hand met only air The faint echo of nails scrabbling at the door made his heart wrench in his chest. He shook his head sharply and stepped out into the crisp clear fall day. He strolled along the sidewalk, unconsciously following his usual route through the park and down the hill to the pond. A couple sat on the old white marble bench, watching their two small children romp with their terrier mix. A blond woman played fetch with a lab on the far shore. A young man watched his German shepherd bitch show her puppies the park. Everywhere he looked someone was playing with their canine companion. He walked on.

Finally he found a small, deserted part of the park and sat on the cast iron bench. He ran his hand along the armrest, feeling the rough places were the yellowed paint had warn away. It was a bench like this one that he had sat on the last time Alteran had felt up to a walk. The old dog had needed to stop and rest frequently and was content to just lie in the sun and watch the puppies play. Maybe he was remembering a time when he had dashed into the lake after a stick, emerging from the muddy water to thoroughly soak anything that had the misfortune to stand to close. Maybe he was thinking back to the runs he and his human shared. They always flopped down in the old shade tree by the brook after their romps. Alteran had always made certain that Ian's face was slobbered across first.

Ian could almost feel Alteran's tongue bathing his hands. He looked down, expecting to see the flop-eared face of his friend. Instead, his gaze encountered a half-grown pup. She tilted her head at him; them pawed at his clasped hands playfully. When this didn't get and movement out of him, she yipped and wagged her tail, bouncing around, enticing him to play. He couldn't help smiling at her. She was all paws and wagging tail. Her fuzzy black coat contrasted sharply with her one blue eye. The other eye was dark brown giving her the gaze of a crazy dog. She dragged a stick over to the bench and offered it to him. He grabbed on end and mock-growled at her. She tugged on the stick, growling and wagging her tail furiously.

"Crazy dog, where you from?" He collected her into his arms and checked her for ID. Nothing. Then her recognized her breed. She was a young German shepherd, probably one of the litter that he had seen earlier. Now where had they gotten too? "Where's your mom, Crazy?" He retraced his steps to the top of the hill overlooking the pond. The young man was resting in the shade of a gnarled oak tree. The mother lazily watched several pups tussle in the crisp autumn leaves. Ian was tempted for a moment to just leave the pup on the grass, but then rethought.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat trying to get the man's attention.

The young man startled and turned around.

"I think I found one of your pups, she was wondering over by the benches." He gestured off over the hill.

The man smiled oddly, "I am afraid you must be mistaken. All of Rach's puppies are purebred Black and Tan German shepherds. Maybe she came from somewhere else. Ask around."

"Thanks" Ian mumbled turning away. Maybe she was a stray. But that did not make sense. She was clean and well feed and cared for. Not to mention she had a fine purple collar on. He decided to call the local pound and see if any one had reported a lost puppy.

"So, no one has reported her missing."

"Nope, but if you bring her down I am sure we can find her family," the young woman sounded like she wanted to be friendly, but was just to tired.

"That's okay. I'll keep her here, just give me a call if anyone is looking for her." Ian hung up the phone feeling discouraged. Not a single person had reported loosing a puppy that even faintly resembled her. He had left an add at the paper, maybe that will turn up something. He wondered into the family room were the pup had made herself at home. She was sprawled out on the floor trying to chew on one of Alteran's old chew toys, it was almost as long a she was. Ian chuckled as she rolled over, pulling the bone on top of her.

"If you are going to be here for a while, I should find some toys more you size, crazy dog" he gently lifted the bone away from her. "And some puppy food while I am thinking about it." He rubbed her tummy and she sighed in pleasure. "So Psycho, what do you think about staying here for a bit?" She simply beat her tail against his foot, grinning at him. He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "You know that name suits you, little one." Psycho woofed in agreement. Ian smiled, "You remind me of someone I used to know. He looked a lot like you when he was young, just not as beautiful." The pup put a paw on his face, reminding him to keep scratching her belly. Ian complied, sighing. She did remind him so much of Alteran. She was a far cry from the shaggy mongrel that had won his heart, but for some reason. . . the empty void within him was not so painful, not so cold and echoing. She was different, yes, but then no one could replace Alteran, as no one would ever replace her. She licked his face, gently healing the hole in his heart that time had not.

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