Alphabet Allie's Arc

Chapter 3 of 7

Allie stood at her bedroom window the next morning, looking out at the backyard. A flash of black and white fur moved behind a bush. She pressed closer to the glass. A huge dog with a brown face stepped into view. Its tail wagged slowly as it sniffed around a doghouse shaped like the letter B. B had moved in. The letter B lived right behind her house now. Allie's heart jumped. She grabbed her backpack and started filling it with everything she could find. Bones from the kitchen drawer. Balls from the closet. A purple one, a yellow one, a bright red one. She stuffed them all in until bones and balls poked out the top. Then she ran downstairs and out the back door. The dog looked up when she stepped into the yard. He was massive, with thick fur and gentle brown eyes. Bluebells grew in tall clusters all around his doghouse, their bright petals nodding in the breeze. Allie held out a bone. The dog walked toward her, sniffed it, then sat down and waited. She set the bone on the ground. He picked it up carefully and carried it back to his B-shaped house. When he came back, she rolled a ball toward him. He caught it in his mouth and dropped it at her feet. They did this three more times before Allie realized she was smiling wider than she had in months. She sat down in the grass. The dog lay down next to her, his big head resting on his paws. Allie didn't need to explain anything to him. He didn't care that she believed letters were alive. He just accepted the gifts she brought and played with her like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time since arriving, Allie felt certain that making someone care about letters didn't mean convincing them with words. Sometimes it just meant showing up with exactly what they needed.