Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
There's so much more I want to say, but I don't let myself for fear of making him mad and uncomfortable again. I can picture him in my mind so clearly right now, sitting with his legs crossed on the floor of his shop in front of an old Harley, with his cell phone in his hand, smudged with grease, a faint crooked smile on his lips as he reads my text. He once told me those were his favorite words, and I hope he knows that over the years they have come to mean much more to me than they did when I first wrote them at seven years old.
18
Tor
My love,
For all the times I pushed you away
My heart was trying to pull you closer
Tor
"Grab the rope out of the truck," I yell to Tristan.
"Tor, you can't go down there with your back problems."
"No shit, that's why you're going. Get the fucking rope."
Tanner laughs as our brother takes off for the truck. "It's about time the kid gets his hands dirty." He says.
"True, bro. Let's not drop him, though. I'm not going in after him and the dog."
We stare down over the side of the bridge as Tris runs back to the truck. The river is raging beneath us, and a black lab is clinging to the side of the embankment, his back legs in the water. It's a miracle he's not being swept away by the current and the only thing I can think that his collar must be snagged on something like a rock or tree branch, keeping him where he is. If whatever it is lets loose, he's going to be dragged down into the water and downstream and will most likely drown.
It’s almost impossible to climb down the sides of the steep hills on either side of the river. So, he either fell in, or more likely, got thrown in. This bridge is nicknamed Suicide Bridge because a few people have jumped to their death off of it a few times over the past few years. The river runs over huge granite rocks that are sometimes covered by the water if we get lots of rain and flooding. I'm not sure how he lived if he was thrown in.
When Tristan comes back with the rope, we rig it around him and he climbs down the steep mountain with us holding onto the rope at the top of the bridge so he can't fall. When the dog sees him, it starts to get excited and digs frantically at the embankment with his front paws, whining.
Tanner and I are both pretty big guys, so we don't have much trouble holding up our 180lb little brother, but the weather is stormy today with strong gusts of winds that keep blowing him around.
"Tris is Mom's favorite, ya know. If we lose him, she's gonna kill us," Tanner teases.
"I'm Mom's favorite, asshole." I joke back. "If we lose him, I'm telling her you pushed him in."
"Grab the dog, you wuss! I got shit to do!" Tanner yells down at him.
"Don't make him nervous, man."
He gives me his evil grin. "It's good for him. Too bad Ty's not here. He'd jump right the fuck off this bridge and grab that dog in about two seconds flat. We wouldn't need this rope bullshit."
Tris reaches for the dog, tries to grab him, misses, and tries again.
"Let's lower him a little more."
A few more inches of rope gives him enough slack to grab onto the dog, but he's struggling trying to hang on to the rope with one hand and grab the dog with the other.
"This wasn't our best plan." Tanner observes, lighting up a cigarette.
"Probably not."
"Grab him and haul his ass up!" Tanner yells.
"He's stuck!" Tris yells back.
"What the fuck? I should have done this myself."
I lean over the bridge, trying to see if I can see what's going on. "Relax, man. He's trying."
Finally Tris grabs onto the dogs collar and yanks him up, hoisting him under his arm. The dog is soaking wet and obviously scared out of its mind, clawing at his chest.
"Pull me up before I drop his ass!" He yells up to us.
We haul him up the slippery hill and I grab the dog when he's at the top edge of the embankment, looping a slip lead leash around his neck. I kneel down and check him over while Tanner gets Tristan untied from the rope. The dog seems fine, despite being very thin and malnourished. I'm pretty sure this is the dog we've been trying to trap for months. I can't wait to tell Kenzi since she was getting so frustrated about him not going into the traps to eat the meat we kept leaving for him.
The dog is trembling, but still wagging his tail, probably feeling somewhat triumphant for eluding us for so long but now happy to be safe. My favorite part of dog rescue is how happy most of them are to finally have a person touch them gently and treat them with care. Their appreciation is evident in their eyes as they brave making eye contact with us, hoping we're someone they can trust.