SHEP
by Chris Himsl

I wiped the Jack Daniel's from my mouth and scratched Shep's head.

"Pretty nice sunset, eh Shep?"

He stared up at me as I pulled my hand away.

"What the hell is a Shep anyway?" he asked.

I gazed back at him in amazement. In four years, I had never heard him say a word.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"Shep. What is it?" he asked again.

The sincerity of his question impressed me.

"Well, it's your name," I replied.

"No, I know that. But what is it? What exactly is a Shep?"

Struggling to find an answer, I finally said, "I think Shep was one of the Three Stooges."

He pulled his tongue in. "No, that was Shemp."

I threw my head in disgust. How could I be so stupid?

"I never named you, ya know," I said.

He turned and stared out over the canyon. "I know. I just never liked the name much."

I shivered a bit and broke the silence, "What name do you like?"

"I kind of like Gordon," he replied.

I kicked the empty bottle into the bushes and shuffled towards the tent.

"Well, I think it's time we got some sleep, Gordon."

© Chris Himsl 2004

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