ࡱ> JLI /.bjbjWW .:55/& $j00000   {}}}}}}$ff     00 00{ {03GYQ.g0~d~~H              ~          : HOBBLEDEAN By Karin Fuller West Virginia Fiction Competition, 1st-Place Winner His name was Hobbledean. Once upon a time, it had been only Dean, but then his leg was damaged and, thereafter, the hobble attached. Hob seemed made of spare parts. One blue eye, one brown. One ear up, at attention, one drooping lazily. He was Dalmatian-spotty in parts and Sheepdog shaggy in parts and his mismatched eyes drooped like a Bloodhounds, all of which wouldve been unremarkable if Hobbledean had been a dog, but he wasnt. Hobbledean was a goat. And so it came to be that Hob was out looking for lunch when he spotted the human sitting at the edge of the noisy childrens place, while others her age loudly chased black and white balls on a field. It seemed wrong for one so small to be alone, so he sidled up to her. Her hand quickly found his head and she stroked it, touching first his forehead, then his ears, then his neck and back. You dont feel like any dog Ive touched before, said the little girl in the strange, dark glasses. But Ive not touched many since Im allergic. I wonder why you arent making me sneeze? The girl continued touching his fur, getting her fingers in deep in a way that made Hobs backside twitch and his leg itch to thump. He tried hard to remain silent, lest his bleats expose his goat-ness and frighten the girl, who seemed unaware. He became so distracted by the wonderfulness of her scratching that a few odd-sounding moans escaped him. She laughed. Id like it if you stayed, she said. That he wasnt a dog troubled Hobbledean greatly. One might not think much would trouble a goat, as their foreheads seldom furrow and they almost never look pensive, but theyre far deeper creatures than their appearance suggests. And Hobbledeans aspirations went further than your average goat. Hob longed to be noble. Dogs were lucky with that. They had opportunities to provide noble actions that were seldom afforded a goat. The girl began talking to Hobble, telling him her nameLucyand yammering about what shed had for breakfastLucky Charms. They used to be my favorite, but not so much anymore, she said. Before, I could pick out the marshmallows and save them for last. Now, that would be too messy, having to feel around and all. He rested his head on her knee and tried to concentrate on not drooling, but the lull of her voice and gentle strokes of her hand caused his eyes to feel heavy and soon soothed him to sleep. Hob had only just started dreaming of a collar with a pretty silver name charm attached when a shrill voice sound-slapped him awake. Sleep had him too muddled to make out any words beyond goat, which had been spat like a curse. Hobble sprang to his feet and wobbled there. The girl was standing now, too, one hand protectively pressing Hobs head to her leg. A pitiful bleat escaped his lips. He felt Lucy startle at the sound. Where on earth did you find a dangle-leg goat? Shrill Voice asked. Hobble looked at the girl. She was pimple-chinned and slope-nosed, wearing some sort of uniform. One of the black and white balls from the field was tucked under her arm. He found me, said Lucy. She was squatting now, feeling Hobs legs. Her hands found his bad one, and he winced when she moved it. The breaks to his leg happened when he was young, and though the bone had knitted together again, the socket had been far too ruined, so the bottom part dangled freely. Uselessly. A more caring farmer mightve had it removed and a less caring one mightve shot him. His seemed not to notice at allhad noticed next to nothing but brown bottles since the woman and children moved outand Hobble was careful to stay out of his way lest the man be in one of those moods the brown bottles sometimes brought forth. In the days since hed healed, Hob foraged further and further from home, slipping through one of the many untended fence holes to explore. Lucy had been the first kind person hed encountered, and that she seemed in some weird way similar to him had Hobble feeling profoundly devoted. The slope-nosed, shrill-voiced girl stomped her foot and clapped her hands loudly. Shoo! she yelled. Go away! Hobbledean did not flinch. Instead, he put himself between Slope Nose and his Lucy and steeled his back. Get! the girl said again, roughly shoving his rump with her foot. Hobble stumbled, but quickly righted himself. Leave him be! said Lucy. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tightly against her, and it took every bit of gumption Hob had not to turn his head and kiss her right then, so overcome with emotion was he. Mom will never let you keep a goat, said the girl. Besides, he must belong to someone. Hes not wearing a collar, said Lucy. That he had no collar shamed Hobble greatly. The others in the farmers small herd all had collars and tags. Granted, the others were older and had been cared for by the woman, now gone, but the collars said they belonged. He did not. Im not walking home with you a goat, said the nose. I dont need you to, said Lucy. She pulled a white wand from her pocket and then tugged at its tip until it became a long, skinny cane. Not a chance, said the nose. Let me try, said Lucy. Hob noticed Lucys voice had changed just a bit, had sounded somehow older. Please. It hasnt been all that long. I remember the way. Slope Nose was quiet for a moment. Her face had softened. So, too, did her voice. You can try, she said. But Im going to follow. Lucy clapped. Not too close! Close enough, she said. And you have to promise youll listen. If you hear me yell, promise youll stop. Lucy nodded. To Hobbles delight, Lucy unfastened the skinny belt from her jeans, and then looped it around his neck, creating a makeshift collar and leash. You cant walk a goat like a dog, said the girl. Hes not an ordinary goat, said Lucy. Hes special. Cant you tell? The girl regarded Hobble, tilting her head just a bit as she did. Hes definitely different, Ill give you that. Slope took Lucy by the shoulders and turned her. Three steps to the sidewalk, then straight ahead until you hit the curb. And then I turn right! Lucy said. Yes, said her sister. Right and then straight until the next curb, then right again, then down two Thats the long way, Lucy said. We can cut through the alley behind Jensens. Coach was just warning us there are raccoons in the dumpsters back there, said her sister. He said theyre really dangerous. That lots of them have rabies. But raccoons dont come out in the day time, said Lucy. True, Slope said. But that way is narrow and dirty. And shorter and faster, said Lucy. Lucy started forward, with Hobble close to his girl. He put himself street side to keep her from wandering off the sidewalk, and was quick to stop at the edge, which she then found with her cane. Together, they turned at the corner and continued. Hobble glanced back, hoping Slope Nose would see what a good job he was doing, but shed been joined by others. They were talking and laughing and kick-walking the black and white ball up the sidewalk. They reached the alley with the smelly dumpster. Lucy turned to go toward it, but Hobble paused. He looked back to Slope Nose, certain shed yell for them to stop. Its okay, baby, Lucy said to Hobble. Ive been this way a million times. Our house is straight through on the other side. Hobble glanced back toward Slope Nose again. He was desperate to do the right thing, to prove he was qualified to be at Lucys side. Slope saw them and didnt yell anything, so Hobble moved forward, putting himself as much ahead of Lucy as his short belt-leash would allow so he could protect her, if needed. Hobble had never been near this alley before. It was rich with smells of spoiling food and water gone rancid and tasty paper still damp from night. He looked up and down for movement or danger, but saw nothing except for a bunch of hand-painted posters taped to the walls. There were so many he began to worry they might be important, and he wished to his core he could read. As they neared the dumpsters, Hobble noticed a few metal boxes lining the base. He supposed they were traps of some sort, likely meant for the coons. He remembered how, before the farmer had eaten the last of the chickens, he kept something similar near their coop. A little ways beyond the dumpsters, the buildings crowded closer together and the alley narrowed to nearly a single-wide path. Someone had made a large X of yellow ribbon taped across this part of the alley, but Lucy was so short she walked right underneath without ever knowing it was there. Hobble spotted something ahead, on the ground. A glint of silvery black. He slowed, squinted. Tried to discern what it was. Lucy tapped his behind with her stick. Just then, her sister yelled. Lucy tapped him again. Her sisters yell was more urgent. A scream. Im fine, Lucy yelled back at her. Were almost through. Hobble saw what the thing was. Recognized the sharp, open claws and the evil spring hinge of the jagged-toothed trap. Realized in a flash what the many signs and yellow Xs had been warning. Lucy nudged at him harder, and then began squeezing to try and go around him. Hob let out a crazed, urgent bleat, but that only served to frighten Lucy into hurrying around him even more. So Hob did the only thing left to do. He thrust his ruined leg right into the trap. And the trap snapped shut. Hobbledean lost not only his leg, but also a few letters off his name. But hed found his home, and his girl. And became Nobledean.   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Once upon a time, it had bee       J2 *0 n only Dean, but then his leg was damaged      F2 `'0 and, thereafter, the hobble attached.   2 M0    2 W0 Hob seemed made of spare parts. One blue eye, one brown. One ear up, at attention, one        =2 +`!0 drooping lazily. He was Dalmatian      2 +80 - [2 +=50 spotty in parts and Sheepdog shaggy in parts and his  2 + 0 mismatched    2 F`\0 eyes drooped like a Bloodhounds, all of which wouldve been unremarkable if Hobbledean had        U2 a`10 been a dog, but he wasnt. Hobbledean was a goat.     2 a0    2 |Z0 And so it came to be that Hob was out looking for lunch when he spotted the human sitting        2 ` 0 at the edge o 2 Z0 f the noisy childrens place, while others her age loudly chased black and white balls on     2 `f0 a field. It seemed wrong for one so small to be alone, so he sidled up to her. Her hand quickly found       k2 `@0 his head and she stroked it, touching first his forehead, then h ;2  0 is ears, then his neck and back.  2 0    2 ]0 You dont feel like any dog Ive touched before, said the little girl in the strange, dark    2 `d0 glasses. But Ive not touched many since Im allergic. I wonder why you arent making me sneeze?          2 0    72 0 The girl continued touching h  g2 S=0 is fur, getting her fingers in deep in a way that made Hobs      2 9`f0 backside twitch and his leg itch to thump. He tried hard to remain silent, lest his bleats expose his       2 T`0 goat  2 T{0 - 2 TX0 ness and frighten the girl, who seemed unaware. He became so distracted by the wonderful       2 T0 ness   ;2 o` 0 of her scratching that a few odd   2 o)0 - 52 o.0 sounding moans escaped him.     2 o0    2  0 She laughed.  2 0    F2 '0 Id like it if you stayed, she said.   2 m0    2 Q0 That he wasnt a dog troubled Hobbledean greatly. One might not think much would         ^2 `70 trouble a goat, as their foreheads seldom furrow and th   P2 .0 ey almost never look pensive, but theyre far    2 ``0 deeper creatures than their appearance suggests. And Hobbledeans aspirations went further than      J2 `*0 your average goat. Hob longed to be noble.   2 p0    v2 ,G0 Dogs were lucky with that. They had opportunities to provide noble acti      2 ,w0 ons that were    /2 G`0 seldom afforded a goat.    2 G0    \2 b60 The girl began talking to Hobble, telling him her name      2 b0  2 b0 Lucy   2 b0  12 b%0 and yammering about what     .2 }`0 shed had for breakfast  2 }0  2 } 0 Lucky Charms.     2 }_0   "Systemv @'vvE@'--  00//..1HKILII՜.+,0 hp  ϳԹUniversityE&  Title  !"#$%&'()*+-./0123456789:;<=>?@BCDEFGHKRoot Entry F6GYQM1Table~WordDocument.:SummaryInformation(,(DocumentSummaryInformation8ACompObjr  F Microsoft Word 97-2003 Document MSWordDocWord.Document.89q