Ollie

Terry asked Hutch for two things.

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Hutch isn’t sure what to do with him, right after. He doesn’t need Hutch’s care, not exactly, though his quiet face gives the impression that he might.

Hutch talks to him a lot. Chatters about unimportant things. Gives him friendly, if unneeded advice. Imparts dire secrets of his soul.

He has two well-formed little ears and an ever attentive expression. He’s an excellent listener.

***

Some people make comments. People always talk.

It’s cute; he’s adorable. It’s funny; he’s a passing phase. It’s depressing; he’s a weakness. It’s abnormal; he’s a substitute.

Hutch just shrugs.

People talk. So, what.

***

Hutch gets mad one night — rip roaring furious. He’s just laying there, not doing anything, but it incenses Hutch somehow, that he could be so complacent when Hutch is feeling…! When everything is…!

For no reason that he wants to analyze later, Hutch charges forward, wanting nothing more than to tear his defenseless companion apart.

The madness passes before any real harm is done.

Helplessly, Hutch kisses the furry head, runs his fingers through that soft, soft hair, and sobs.

He’s still a good listener.

And always forgiving.

***

When Hutch is happy again and on top of the world, he’s one of the first to know.

***

Years later, his hair is going an indistinct shade of gray. But his eyes are still shiny. He still gives Hutch that little not-quite-smile. He’s still a good listener.

Terry probably knew:

Hutch never needed a promise to love him with all his heart.

END.

To Dearest Hutch: To you I entrust Ollie and Dave. Please love them both. Don’t let either one of them change.