Chapter 3 - SHAKING HANDS, WAGGING TAILS
Having a dog changed everything. Suddenly, the alley didn't feel quite as lonely, but the hunger became a constant, pressing shadow.
Ben spent the entire afternoon sweeping the sidewalk outside a corner bodega. The owner, a grumpy man with a thick mustache, had initially yelled at him to go away, but Ben’s stubborn persistence finally won him over. He handed Ben a single, crumpled one-dollar bill and a loaf of day-old Italian bread that was hard as brick.
It was the greatest treasure they had found all week.
Back at the cardboard castle, Ben used his knife to saw the hard bread into three pieces. He made sure Toby’s piece was the largest, and then he broke the smallest piece into tiny crumbs for the puppy.
"Here you go, boy," Toby said, holding out his hand.
The puppy ate the bread crumbs with frantic eagerness, his tail thumping wildly against the cardboard box, creating a rhythmic, happy beat. The sound made Toby burst into a bright, genuine laugh—a sound Ben hadn't heard since they lived in a real apartment.
"Look at him go!" Toby giggled as the puppy finished the crumbs and began licking Toby’s fingers for any remaining taste. "He’s like a little vacuum cleaner."
"He needs a name," Ben said, chewing slowly on his own small piece of bread to make it last longer. "We can't just keep calling him 'the dog'."
Toby tapped his chin, watching the puppy curl up on the edge of their blue blanket. "What about Barnaby? Like the brave detective in the cartoon Mom used to read to us?"
"Barnaby," Ben tested the name. The scruffy puppy suddenly perked up his floppy ears and let out a soft, happy boof.
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"I think he likes it," Ben smiled.
For the first time in months, as the sun dipped below the city skyline, the tiny cardboard box felt less like a hiding spot and more like a home. Barnaby crawled between the two brothers, resting his chin on Toby’s chest, his steady, warm breathing acting as a soothing lullaby.
