“Scotty,” the boy screamed a bit late.  The shiny, dark blue sedan that hit Scotty did not stop.  The charcoal-gray terrier lay in a lifeless heap near the curb of the street. The boy ran and lifted his companion into his arms. His sobs were for fear of losing the love he and Scotty had shared going on eight months now. The boy didn’t know how long he sat at the street edge hugging Scotty, but it seemed an eternity.

Then the boy felt that someone was approaching. It was a bearded stranger dressed in jeans and sneakers. He wasn’t old or young.

“Is he alive?” the stranger asked gently.

“Don’t think so,” the boy replied. “There’s no strength in his body.”

“Hmm, that’s not good,” the stranger said. “I know an old trick that has worked a few times. Mind if I try it?”

The boy dried his tears with his shirt sleeve and handed Scotty over to the kind, swarthy man. He took the young dog carefully and began to rub its smashed stomach softly back and forth.

“Do you think it will help?” the man asked the boy.

“It might,” he replied.

“Good answer,” said the stranger. “It means you have not lost hope.” The boy noticed that the man had sort of a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

He continued rubbing the pet’s stomach. Fairly soon the broken little body seemed to be going through a change. A change back to normal. Scotty definitely began to wag his tail now. The boy’s eyes were saucers.

“Oh, Scotty,” cried the boy, “you’re alive!”

“Just as I am,” the stranger said, smiling.

“How did you do it, Sir?”

“Oh, I usually try one thing then another,” he said, modestly. He seemed really pleased that the boy and his dog were reunited.

“Where are you from, Sir? What’s your name?” the boy asked, making motions to get up and leave with Scotty in his arms.

“Name’s not important. I was born in Bethlehem, but I’ve been literally all over.”

“Oh, Bethlehem’s not far from here. My mom’s got folks there. Did you know any Solts? It’s her last name before she married.”

“Believe I did,” the stranger said, rubbing his chin.

“I have to go. Me and Scotty,” the boy told the stranger. “Anyway, I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I know that, Jerry. It’s good advice, in general. World’s got some bad people in it.”

The boy and his dog began walking away. The boy stopped a sec and looked back.

“Sir, how did you know my name?”

The stranger laughed a friendly laugh. “Guess I just presumed it, Jerry. You go on home now before it gets late. You and your recovered Scotty.”

The boy and dog quickened their pace. Their steps were happy ones.

The second time the boy looked back, the bearded stranger was gone. Maybe to Pittsburgh this time, the boy thought.

END OF “MAYBE TO PITTSBURGH THIS TIME”