The Poor Little Waif
By David Barth
On September 18, 1989, I wrote this story loosely based on the childhood experiences of a coworker. A few weeks before, she had mentioned that when
she was a little girl, she lived near the Keebler cookie factory in Denver. In the summer, she and some of her friends sometimes visited the loading dock at the
factory and were given a rejected box of cookies that had been crushed.
The little girl in the tattered pink dress began to cry as the snow flakes fell on her and the puppy. She could see that the puppy was so hungry that he couldn't run
and play like other pups. She took him in her arms and cuddled him. He was shivering. She was lonely, and it was wonderful to find a little friend to keep her
company.
The little girl had been looking for food all day, and her stomach hurt from hunger. After she rested a little, she put the puppy down and began to walk away to
see if it would follow. It pulled itself to its four paws and struggled to keep up with her. She knew she had to find food, and now more than ever. She had to find
something for the poor, hungry puppy to eat.
Wandering through the streets, she spied a cookie factory. Watching to make sure the puppy was able to follow, she went around to the back of the building.
There she saw the loading docks where the big semis load up their precious, delicious cargo that more fortunate boys and girls would get to eat.
As she came nearer, the little girl looked up and saw a big, burly man standing on the dock. She looked up at him with her big, blue eyes, and a tear of helplessness
rolled down her cheek. She picked up the puppy and hugged him.
The big man turned away, returning a moment later with a broken box of cookies. He held them down to the girl, and she reached as far
as she could on her tip toes, with outstretched arms to the edge of the dock, to accept the gift. She took the box and held it tightly, smiling at the kind man, a tear
of gratitude wetting her cheek.
She walked to a street corner and sat down on a step. The aroma of the cookies was wonderful. The puppy smelled it too, and he pushed his nose to the box, his
big, brown eyes wide with the hope that he might get a crumb or two.
There weren't many cookies in the box, and most of them were broken. She crossed her legs so her pink dress would catch the crumbs and fed the cookies to the
pup. When they were all gone, she carefully scooped the crumbs from her dress and ate them. They tasted delicious, and she almost regretted eating them because
they made her feel the hunger so much more.
But she was happy. The puppy appeared to be stronger. He looked into her eyes and she thought he seemed to be smiling. She got up, still clutching the cookie
box so she could enjoy the lingering smell, and began to cross the street. She didn't see the speeding car, almost upon her. The puppy did, and he bit the back
of her dress and pulled her out of the way. The car sped past, the driver never even seeing the little girl.
She picked up the puppy and hugged him. He licked a salty tear of thankfulness from her cheek as she looked to heaven.
The little girl, still very hungry, went to the vacant lot where she slept each night, and curled up with the puppy in an old blanket she had found. That night the poor
little girl died. The puppy was heartbroken, but he was adopted by a kind family and grew into a big, gentle dog.
It is said that the little girl was called to heaven to become an angel. And a terrific angel she was.