II The Spirit of Malcolm

After noshing at a C-Store grill in Glen Rose, I asked the cashier where I could find a safe place to pitch a tent for the night. Moments of uncomfortable silence followed. Like an RV Park I assured her. There was one a few miles down 67 she said. The sun was setting but if I scooted some serious boot, I could make it. And boy am I glad I did.

JB's RV Park was an unremarkable but welcome sight after being on the road all day and worth the $10 for a tent site. I had just slipped the cash in an envelope under the office door when a man and a boy emerged from a nearby trailer and greeted me. We exchanged pleasantries and I explained I had walked from Austin but being exhausted, left it at that. The boy wished me luck on my journey.

A secluded spot near a bayou beckoned me. I barely had enough energy to make camp and only minutes after I had done so, a truck drove up. What now? The passenger door opened and the boy appeared carrying a plate of food.

As I thanked him and turned towards the tent I saw a dog a stone's throw away staring at me. I must have been too tired to notice the goat pen on the way in but there across from me was a Great Pyrenees puppy. Six, maybe eight months old and covered in mud, he took to me like we were old friends and when I said goodnight to eat my dinner, he jumped into the swamp and swam around the fence line to my side.

Upon seeing this, an elderly man headed him off and after a gentle chiding, returned the Pyr to the pen. And I to my tent but he never left his spot across from me.

Perhaps from exhaustion, the selfless act of generosity a boy showed a stranger, or the spirit of Malcolm I sensed watching over me, I wept. They were tears not of sadness but awe and humility for how could I be blessed by a magical night like this?

And the following morning, I found that puppy exactly in the same spot... He never left my side...