Chapter 27

As dusk gave way to night, John built a small fire to stay warm, and made himself something to eat in the small frying pan he had purchased earlier that week. The meal was beans and hot dogs, and, despite his crude tools and limited supplies, John couldn’t recall a meal that had ever tasted better. Perhaps there was something to be said for simplicity.

     As the stars began to come out, John heard a rustling in the bushes beside him, and immediately grabbed for his knife. Upon further reflection he noticed it was his friend the coyote again, who had returned for another visit. John saw him shivering in the cold, and noticed the protruding ribs that had begun to show through his fur. He decided he would take a chance.

     He grabbed one of his hot dogs and gently tossed it in the direction of his new friend, hoping he would take the offer of something to eat as a sign of friendship.  The coyote took a long look at him, and then hobbled over to the hot dog and gobbled it up, obviously ravenous and in need of immediate sustenance. It looked like it was dying, and John felt for a minute a kind of compassion for a creature that appeared to be at the end of it’s time here. He could relate to the idea, if not physically then emotionally.

     The coyote eventually came closer to John, and looked at his frying pan full of beans and licked his lips. John extended the pan out to his new friend and he immediately came right into John’s camp and began to devour what was left. The coyote seemed completely unafraid, and John had no fear of the animal either. For this moment they were simply two lost souls in the desert, and John had what the animal needed to survive, at least for another night.

     Eventually the coyote drifted off to sleep at the edge of the fire, and John felt it was time to do the same. He had expected to spend the night looking at the stars and contemplating his destiny, but fate had provided other plans. He looked over at the sleeping coyote and felt compelled to pet the animal, despite the fact that it could be dangerous. Right now John didn’t really care. He walked over to the animal and gently stroked its fur, thinking as he did what it must feel like to be so close to the end. He used to feel good knowing he had a wife and daughter who would be there when his time came, but now they were gone. He felt for just a moment that maybe there was someone else who could be there for him. It seemed a strange idea, but for a moment he entertained it. Perhaps a small piece of his hope was returning.

       He woke up very early the next morning and noticed his new friend was gone. He felt oddly comforted knowing the animal was sleeping just outside his tent, and he found himself wondering why his guest had left so abruptly. He felt good that he had helped the animal, and was reminded for a moment of his patients back home, many of whom were also wounded, sick, and discouraged with their lives. They had counted on him for guidance, and it was a challenge he had always risen to, despite his own failings and inadequacies. He was thinking now that he needed to do it again. To engage with those that needed him, and perhaps in doing so, reengage with a piece of his own life force that had died. He could feel a small spirit rising inside of him. He looked down at the remnants of his small fire from the night before.

Perhaps he could rise from the ashes.