Smoke puffed out of rooftops in early England as people bustled about in the city or taking coaches out to their homes in either the city outskirts or further out of town into the country. One particular family, the Jacksons, were just entering the town, a human family of three: Mark Jackson, the father, a doctor and surgeon, Margaret Jackson, a stay-at-home mother, and William, the boy, seven years old and a student of the local elementary school.
Pulling their cart, holding the two handles – one in each hand – was the family’s horse, Jed. The Jackson family was in their Sunday best, since there was a church service that morning, and Jed somewhat fit the part, wearing a bow tie with his brown britches and tan shirt.
As Jed, his hooves clopping on the cobbled road, finally set the cart down to the admiration and praise of the Jacksons, he couldn’t have helped but notice a small corgi, wearing only a jacket and monocle eye piece, come stumbling through the streets on all fours, trying to keep away from any people as he slunk fearfully into an alleyway.
Some people name-called the poor creature as it slunk around, and the corgi endured the blows ungracefully with whimpers and rapid shutting of eyes, as though expecting to be hit. Jed noticed another cart was parked in front of him, a large black Clydesdale being the driver.
Jed cleared his throat and addressed the Clydesdale. “*ahem* Good day sir.”
The Clydesdale turned, nodded and replied, “good day to you sir.”
“If I may,” Jed said, “do you know anything of that corgi fellow hiding away in that alley over there?” He asked, pointing to where the mentioned corgi sat huddled against the musky brick wall.
The Clydesdale smirked. “That, good sir, is Marcus Fenway. A rundown bum as everyone here knows him as. Broke his right hind leg awhile back. Occasionally steals to keep himself and his wife alive. He’ll double-cross you in a wink; all corgis do.”
Jed nodded, thanking the Clydesdale, then decided to venture over to the alleyway Mr. Fenway had slunk into.

Soon Jed came within hearing distance of the poor corgi and stooped down to address the little man. “Hello sir.”
Fenway jumped, a pained expression on his face.
“Fear not, I assure no harm will come to you.” Fenway eased just a tad.
“What were you doing slinking around the streets?” Jed asked, looking at the road the corgi had ventured down just minutes before.
Fenway looked like he’d much rather run and hide, but stuttered, “n-nothin’. Wasn’t doin’ nothin’. Just trying to get here.”
“Oh. Is this your home then?” Jed asked.
Fenway didn’t look any looser through Jed’s soft conversing, and looked at his folded paws, “yeah, the misses lives here too.”
Jed peered into the alleyway, it was quite small. A large heap of rubble lay in the far back, supposedly what the two poor corgis had for shelter.
“I’m sorry.” Jed said. Fenway took a moment to process what just happened then grew a little more relaxed.
“It’s no problem, really. We get by just fine.”
Jed turned towards the closest food vender, one who was selling bread loves and vegetables.
“I’ll be right back, give me a moment.” Jed quickly jogged across the road, paid the human man selling, and brought back two loaves of bread and a bag of apples.
“Here.” Jed said, laying the food down at Fenway’s feet.
Fenway looked down at the food then at Jed’s smiling face.
“What are you tryin’ to pull sir? I’ve had lots give me food only to trample it underfoot for show. I won’t have that, you hear?”
Jed shook his head. “I mean no foul-play Mr. Fenway. I’m doing nothing for crooked intent.” The horse stood. “I just want to bless you and your fair lady a bit as me and my owners are passing through, that’s all.”
Jed turned to go when a small hand grabbed his. “Please sir,” Jed said, looking forlorn now, “it’s my wife. She’s, she’s not well.”
Jed turned to a couple humans who were glaring at the ill-begotten corgi, and Jed held up a hand to still them. “Please, I’m here to help.”
Some people grumbled, but the growing crowd dispersed either way.
“Take me to her.” Jed said, and Mr. Fenway took him to the back of the alley. Underneath a cardboard box and crumpled sign, Mrs. Fenway sat shivering.
“I don’t know what’s wrong. I’d give her some brandy but I can’t pinch it off anyone because of my,” Mr. Fenway looked down at his injured feet and spat, “my damned legs.”
Jed nodded, gently lifting Mrs. Fenway into his arms. “Where are you taking her?” Fenway asked.
“My master is a doctor.”
“A doctor?!” Fenway said. “Put a good word in to him for me. I was a surgeon before my legs gave out.”
“A surgeon?” Jed asked, looking back at Fenway, who walked on all fours behind him.
“Yes sir, a good one at that. Very steady hands.”
Jed filed that away in his mental bank and soon had Mrs. Fenway checked out at a local human/animal hospital.
As Mrs. Fenway was being checked out, Jed returned to his cart to talk to the Jacksons. “Jed, where were you?” Mrs. Jackson asked, curious.
“Madam, I would love to tell you but presently there are more pressing matters. A local dog, named Fenway, is down on his luck and his wife has turned ill.”
The Jacksons looked a little alarmed, then Mr. Jackson walked up to Jed. “Lead me to her old boy.”

Several minutes later Mr. Jackson spoke with Mr. Fenway about his wife and his legs; his wife turned out to have a stomach flu while Mr. Jacksons legs only needed to be straightened, since the bones had broke and set in an unnatural way.
Jed had a pressing question on his mind, and pulled Mr. Jackson aside. “Sir, I know I’m of no qualifications to ask a favor-”
“Nonsense my boy, your part of the family, like a son to me.”
Jed nodded. “Thank you sir, I wanted to ask if Mr. Fenway could work for you. He claims to be a skilled surgeon. I’d also like to contribute to both the Fenway’s medical bills.”
Mr. Jackson nodded, weighing everything that was said. “It’s your money son, use it as you see fit. I’d be glad to take up an apprentice, or at least see what Mr. Fenway can do. I think Mrs. Fenway won’t be needing much medication, it’s more towards Mr. Fenway’s legs that will need a good cash flow.”
Jed nodded, and Mr. Jackson walked back to speak to Mr. Fenway.

A few hours later, as Jed loaded up his cart with the Jacksons, Mrs. Jackson called to Mr. Fenway, “If it’d please you, we’d love to have your wife stay with us for awhile, sir.”
Mr. Fenway looked overjoyed, and helped his wife into the cart beside William. “Thank you ma’am, and you sir,” Mr. Fenway said, shaking Jed’s hand.
“The pleasure is mine. I’m glad I could help you. Good luck to you with your surgery.”
Mr. Fenway nodded. “Ha! A little surgery won’t stop me! Your master says my hands are as solid as rocks, perfect surgeon hands. I’ll be expecting a job within the week.”
Jed nodded, smiling broadly. “Well, take care sir.” As the Jacksons and Mr. Fenway parted ways, the streets themselves seemed to brighten, as a common blight of poverty was being slowly smitten off the streets, one person at a time.

END