Momo

Alfred didn’t trust cars and he seemed to like the Benz even less. His head swayed from side to side as he peered up from under his thick, furrowed, grey brow.

“Do you need another pint?”

Alfred whined in response, lowering his head and looking away.

Aislin turned back to the house. The large Victorian was stately against low foothills. She loved this house, wrapping her with beautiful views and security. Since high school graduation her life had been in constant flux. A proprietor of a nomadic life, she’d attended three different colleges before completing her bachelor’s degree. This house now represented not just home but her new ability to deal with permanency and stability. The house was the beautiful scar that represented healing.

Aislin poured a pint of Guinness into the heavy stainless steel bowl and set it on the floor.

“You know it’s not healthy to get drunk this early in the morning.”

Alfred lapped up the beer. The massive Great Dane grinned up at her, foam dripping from his muzzle.

“Are you ready to go?”

Whine.

“Will Momo make you feel better?”

The dog’s head bounced in agreement.

“Go get him.”

Alfred dashed up the stair his nails clicking on the oak hardwood flooring the whole way into his bedroom. Aislin checked her watch it was almost 2 a.m. and she was anxious to get on the road. Alfred returned with Momo gingerly held in his mouth.

Aislin didn’t travel without Alfred, much like Alfred didn’t travel without Momo. The dog and his pet sock monkey were introduced when Alfred was no bigger than soccer ball. Momo was never a chew toy, but a brother.

Back in the frigid morning air, Alfred now climbed into the SUV, fortified by Ireland’s favourite ale and the everlasting bonds of friendship. From the driver’s seat, she watched the dog sprawl out on the backseat, rollover, and spread his legs to the ceiling as Momo rested on his white, tummy.

“Comfortable?” she asked pulling out of the driveway.

The high mountain valley was still asleep as they headed east out of town. The wind did not stir the latest dusting of powder. The five stoplights in town were flashing yellow. Alfred was snoozing before they hit Monarch Pass.

Aislin was always reluctant to leave Gunnison, especially on business. On vacation it was always her choice when to return. Whenever business called her away it seemed she’d never return home.

Familiar landmarks marked her progress from mountain to plain. Aislin thought of the familiar landmarks she couldn’t see in the dark; a pedestrian crossing sign atop the pass with a hula hoop painted across the man’s middle; a yellow house that college students honked at for good luck; a rock that looked like a miniature cow.