Charlie is native to the Racha Northwoods. He’s no young pup–he’s got scars that show his wisdom, his experience. But he’s not so old that he’s sprouted any grays on his golden coat. A friendly Labrador that keeps the secret of his youth (and unfortunate abandonment) to himself. So mysterious, Charlie…

Charlie chooses not to run with the neighborhood bloodhound gang. They prey upon lone wolves and stragglers who find themselves in dangerous territory. But monkey see, monkey do. Taking notes from the bipeds, kicking and yelling at any strays too close for comfort, Charlie finds himself in hair-raising run-ins with other local quadrupeds such as the white spotted cow. She charges towards him, fearless and slightly independent. She’s not going to be herded by any barking male in her path.

Charlie’s found a boy to call his friend. Sleeping under the porch, this boy throws him stale bread and invites him on adventures past the rusty garden gate. He shows his love and in return, Charlie sits patiently outside the schoolyard to walk the boy home. No, there isn’t any master in this relationship. The boy respects Charlie’s freedom and desire to roam.

But the companionship grows stronger and warmer. The snow melts and the rain falls to clear the air. The trust that Charlie bestows on the boy seems to extend to all those who inhabit his home. Eyes open and close together. The small hand offered to the rough paw. And though Charlie may carry fleas, the never-ending itch, and though the dirt seems to be ingrained in his dusty blonde fur, Charlie loves.

All that is asked for is a pat on the head, a scratch on the back. With that comes a lick of appreciation as Charlie trots off, knowing he’ll see you later.