Clem's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Clem reached the adobe house as afternoon shadows stretched across the yard. He circled the collapsed doghouse three times, sniffing the dry wood and cracked earth. His paws scraped at the ground where the corner post had fallen. Dirt came away easily. He dug deeper, his claws pulling up stones and roots. Then something hard clinked against his paw. Clem stopped and pushed his nose into the hole. The edge of metal gleamed in the sunlight. He dug around it carefully until the brass collar lay free in his paws. Dust covered its surface, but the metal still caught the light. Clem picked it up in his mouth and sat back. The weight felt right. His tail wagged. Tonight he would clean it and wear it again, just like his first friend had worn it all those years ago. The next morning, Clem trotted back toward town with the brass collar hanging from his mouth. He stopped at the town hall where a man in suspenders and a pressed shirt walked up the stone steps. Clem followed close behind, his claws clicking on the smooth surface. Inside, the man spread papers across a desk and pointed at property lines on an old map. Clem set the collar down and watched. The map showed the adobe house exactly where he'd dug. The man nodded and stamped a document. Clem picked up the collar again. He'd found it in the right place after all. Outside the museum, Clem found a length of rope lying in the dust. Someone had tied knots along it at regular spaces. Each knot marked how deep the hole had been at different times. Clem sniffed the rope and recognized the scent of the yard where he'd dug. He'd measured his progress without knowing it, going deeper until the brass collar finally appeared. The rope showed how far he'd come. His tail wagged as he thought about wearing the collar every day from now on. On the museum's outer wall, fresh paint caught his eye. A mural stretched across the weathered rock, showing a beagle surrounded by desert flowers in full bloom. The dog in the painting wore a red bandana just like his. Clem sat and stared at it. Someone had painted this to mark what he'd done—the long search, the digging, the brass collar finally found. The flowers made the wall bright against the dusty town. Clem's ears lifted. His first friend would have liked this. He picked up the brass collar and started walking home, ready to wear it every morning when the sun came up.