Warmth Pt. 01

I knew that the concept was a strange one. I had no clue how that could even happen to a person. Still, it made sense, and for the time being it was the only idea I had.

My stomach growled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten since lunch, which felt like an eternity ago, and I had no idea when he last ate. I went over to the kitchen and got out a 14-inch frozen pizza. I was unwrapping it and setting the oven when my guest heard the commotion and walked over so he could sit down on the kitchen floor. I was finally able to realize why the way he sat looked so strange to me: he was leaning forward slightly, folded in his legs, and had his hands on the floor in front of him, just like how a dog would sit.

He just stared intently at what I was doing, sometimes throwing sharp glances at other things in the room. He didn't make a move to go after the pizza when I took it out of the oven, he just sat there and looked at it for the entire process of cooling and cutting. I had to sit him down at the kitchen table and put a slice of pizza on a plate in front of him before he started eating. He must have gone longer without food than I had thought, because he ate like he hadn't seen food in days. He didn't chew with his mouth open or make noises, like everything else he did he ate quietly, but he wasn't tasting as much as inhaling. The large slice was gone within twenty seconds. As I put another piece down in front of him, I took one for myself and watched as he continued to eat furiously.

The process repeated itself a few more times. His pace did gradually slow, but his method never changed. He ate greedily and messily, grabbing the pizza wherever was convenient and not caring how much debris got on his face and hands. When we were done, I had eaten two slices and he the other six. I got up to get him a glass of water, and when I returned I saw that he was licking the residual food off of his fingers. I knew I had seen enough when he used his still messy hands to brush his hair out of his eyes. After I grabbed both of his arms and pulled them away from his face, I looked at him up and down and saw how dirty he was all over. He needed to get cleaned up, and I could tell that I would have to do it for him.

Once I was done clearing the table, I grabbed him by the wrist and led him to my bathroom. I initially turned the shower on extra hot the way I liked it, but after a moment's thought I turned it down to merely warm. While waiting for the water to heat up, I took off his clothes. As I thought, he had no reaction, even when he was completely naked in front of me. I probably could have broken his leg and he wouldn't have cared.

I discovered that he had gone commando, so the only two articles of clothing he had on were the t-shirt and jeans. I folded those and set them aside, knowing that I wanted to examine them more closely later. I didn't really need to be naked myself, so I just stripped down to my boxers before getting us both in the shower.

The first thing I did was use soap and a washcloth to scrub him down from head to toe. In the process I was forced to become very familiar with his body. He was built like a swimmer: muscular, but not bulky anywhere. He had some body fat, but just enough to soften his overall shape. In spite of myself I felt a twinge of jealousy. I'm not normally one to be self-conscious about my body, but my tall, skinny frame was unimpressive compared to the one in front of me. I noticed a few other things, too. He barely had any freckles or marks anywhere on him and aside from congregating in the normal areas, any body hair he had was thin and fine, a sharp contrast to the thick curls I had on most of my body.

The cleaning process was simple, only getting difficult at his hands and feet. His hands were filthy, and it took a while to scrub under his long nails. His feet were even worse. They were rough, callused, and absolutely caked in dirt from walking outside barefoot all day. When I was finally done scouring, his feet were clean, but they were still so hard and tough that I guessed he had spent much of his life without shoes.

The entire time I cleaned his skin he just stood there passively, letting me move around various parts of his body like he was a puppet. Only when I started washing his hair could I get any reaction out of him, thankfully a positive one. He had so much dirty hair that I had to get aggressive, and when I was scrubbing his scalp with my fingers he actually indicated that he was enjoying himself. His eyes closed slightly, and I felt him lean into it. I remembered how he scratched his own head a few times before, but he must have gotten more pleasure from somebody else doing it. After I finally got all the shampoo and conditioner out of his thick mane, I tried a little experiment, vigorously scratching under his hair with my fingernails. He slightly moved with it, his eyelids fluttering. I scratched harder and I saw his lips form the barest, vaguest hint of a smile. I kept going and he slowly lifted one of his legs until only his toe was on the floor before doing that slight leg shake most people can do without really thinking about it. I was reminded of dogs thumping their legs when they got their bellies scratched and I had to stop what I was doing because I was laughing so hard.

Once he was clean I dried him off and brushed his teeth for good measure. I just put some clean boxers of mine on him before shooing him off so that I could take my own shower. After I was clean, dry, and dressed, I grabbed the clothes I had found the strange man-dog in and walked to the den, seeing him curled up on the couch like before. I sat down and looked over the two articles of clothing.

They told me absolutely nothing. There were no tags, no labels, no words of any kind, not even on the jeans' zipper. I checked the pants pockets, turning them inside out and searching through them a half a dozen times before I was able to accept that they were empty. It all struck me as suspicious. It seemed like the clothes were custom made. For the life of me I didn't know why, but what mattered then was that they were useless to me. In disgust I went to my laundry room and threw them in the washer.

Aside from doing laundry, I spent the rest of the evening digging through the internet for missing persons reports in my area, casting a wider and wider net as my pulls kept coming up empty. I probably looked through a hundred cases from as recent as the current year to a decade prior. I still couldn't find anything. I didn't know who the man was or where he was from, but he wasn't being looked for by anybody close by that I could find. In the hours that I spent searching on my laptop I kept glancing up at the mysterious person on my couch. Who was he?

It took a while for me to give up and turn in for the night. I had a guest bedroom, but my visitor seemed so content on the couch that I let him sleep there, giving him a pillow and blanket so he could be more comfortable. I went to bed, eager to finally end the longest day of my life.

About an hour had passed before I was awoken by a strange sound that I didn't recognize. After a bit, I realized that it was clawing and scraping against the bedroom door. When I opened it the man-dog took a step back. His expression was neutral, but his body language was embarrassed. He grabbed his arms and wouldn't meet my gaze. He glanced back and forth between me and my bed a few times before I was able to put together what he wanted from me.

"Are you serious?" I asked, knowing I might as well have been talking to myself.

He just stood there. It was dark, so I couldn't see that well, but I was starting to pick up that he was sad, even scared.

I groaned. "Ugh...fine."

I walked over to the far side of my bed and lifted up the sheets. He slowly got into the bed and I lay the covers over both of us. I had a king-sized bed. There was more than enough room for the two of us to sleep comfortably, but he was right on the edge, tightly curled up in a ball and facing away from me. It was like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

Once again, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. I was starting to get the impression that he wasn't as cold and emotionless as he appeared. It seemed more like he had normal feelings and needs but just buried them because he didn't want to bother anyone. When he was thirsty, starving, or exhausted beyond his limit he wouldn't let it show. How he was acting made me think that he saw his simple request for a little company as him overstepping his bounds.

As I lay there, looking at the strange person in my bed with me, I remember wishing that he would get a good night's sleep before I slowly drifted off.

III

I woke up alone in my bed the next day, and it took me a moment to realize that that was suspicious. I walked into the den to see that my guest had returned to his spot on the couch, and I noticed that he was holding something in his hands. As I got closer I could see that it was a scented candle I had left on some piece of furniture in my house and forgot about soon after. He was holding it right up to his face and really getting into the smell. I didn't really understand what the big deal was, it was just a candle that smelled like a Christmas tree, but he was all over it.

I returned to my room to get dressed and when I came back he was still doing it, so I gently took the candle away and put it on the coffee table. I took a seat on the couch and just watched him for a while, not thinking about anything in particular. Eventually, the reality of the situation began to sink in and I knew that I had some decisions to make. It had been a whole evening and night. I had had more than enough time to mull things over. What was I going to do with this person?

The obvious thing would be to notify the authorities and file a police report. It seemed like the logical step if I wanted him out of my hair and back to wherever it was he came from. Maybe he didn't even have that option, though. Nothing about his demeanor or actions indicated that he had other friends or people looking after him. If he did, he wouldn't imprint himself on some random person who found him by chance. My brain took that thought and ran with it. Obviously, he saw me as an ally of some sort, going as far as trying to scare off a bear for me. Did I have any right to abandon him?

No, that was ridiculous. He wasn't a lost puppy, he was an adult who just had something important rattled loose in his brain. He wasn't my responsibility, and it's not like I would have been better for him than actual professional help. I still pushed back at that thought, and it occurred to me that I was acting like I wanted him to live at my house with me.

The rational, sensible part of my mind tried to shoot that prospect down. There were so many reasons why him living with me wasn't a good idea. I had no idea how to take proper care of him. It was unlikely he could get a job, and I already had to support myself. I hadn't wanted a roommate or a pet prior to this and letting him in would be like getting both at once. I was sitting there, trying to talk myself out of what I was thinking when the man in question slowly crawled closer and sat next to me. He then did something that caught me off guard. Using the hesitant, halting motions he used when he touched my knee the previous day, he slowly leaned over to me. He then lightly nuzzled my neck with his nose, just gently rubbing his face against my skin for a second. When he pulled away, I saw that little smile from when I scratched him in the shower.

It was such an oddly affectionate gesture that my entire train of thought was brought to a screeching halt. All I could do was stare at him. His facial expression was still pretty neutral, but there was some emotion leaking through, something that from another person I would probably describe as...happiness.

My heart softened. I was on the fence about the matter, but his mind was clearly made up. All my doubts were fading away at a dangerous rate. I knew it was unwise. I knew I would have no idea what I was doing. I knew that it was just going to add a bunch of extra work to my life. I knew that he likely would have felt the same way about somebody else if they had been the one who woke him up. I knew I was being selfish. I didn't care. I imagined the logical and emotional parts of me at odds with each other, and the logical part was starting to concede.

Do you really want this? I asked myself.

Yes, I do. God help me, I want this.

Are you sure?

I don't think I've been more sure of anything in a long time.

I had made my decision. I had found myself a new housemate.

I suddenly realized that I had never felt the need to introduce myself to him. Hell, I never even thought he needed a name. That would have to change if he was going to be living with me. I looked at the candle he was fawning over a few minutes prior and got some inspiration. I stood us both up so I could look him in the eye and address him properly.

"Your name is Pine. My name is Zach. It's nice to meet you." I held out my hand like I wanted him to shake it. He didn't get the message, so instead I stepped forward and hugged him. Initially he stiffened up in shock, but after a few seconds he raised his hands and hugged me back.

I held for as long as I could, only pulling away when I felt his nails slightly dig into my skin. I stepped back and looked at Pine. He wasn't dirty anymore, but he still had claws for fingernails and long, messy hair. His appearance certainly didn't match up with how docile he had been. The previous night I had wanted to clean him up, and I realized that I still had work to do in that regard.

After we finished breakfast, I pulled out his chair and got some supplies, which included the candle he liked so much. This was going to take a while and I wanted something to keep him occupied. I sat Pine down and got to work.

The first thing I did was cut his nails. He was pretty handsy and could do some damage otherwise. He clearly didn't like the feeling. He let me do it, but he flinched with every clip. He even seemed a little disappointed when he stroked his arm with his newly shortened nails. I tried to cheer him up by scratching him and giving him the candle before moving on to the next step, which was brushing his hair.

Pine wasn't a fan of that part, either. The conditioner from the previous night had done some of the detangling already, but the hair still gave me some trouble. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but there were some knots that I had to fight against. Eventually, after what must have been half an hour, his hair was smooth, and I could actually see what I was working with. Since he was shirtless, I saw that his hair extended below his nipples. I got some scissors and cut it until it was shoulder length. I had had exactly zero experience cutting hair. I was way too cautious, snipping off little bits at a time because I was scared of cutting too much at once. It took forever, but I did manage to get his hair at the desired length and at least moderately even. After that I used a rubber band to tie what was left up into a ponytail. There were a few shorter pieces of hair in the front that stuck out, but at least most of it was out of his face.

The last step was shaving him. This was the part I was nervous about. I was almost certain that I would end up cutting him, whether due to error on my part or him doing something unexpected, but I didn't even nick him. He seemed to like getting shaved almost as much as he liked getting his hair washed. I guess that made sense, it was close enough to scratching his face. He held still, so I took my time, gently and carefully stroking him with the razor until he was clean shaven. When I was done cleaning things up, I got the clothes I had found him in, freshly washed from the night before. I put them on and stepped back so I could admire my handiwork.

It's kind of astounding how much difference a shave and a haircut can make for a man. Pine looked so different when he was clean and trimmed that I was able to notice two things I couldn't before. Firstly, he was a lot younger than I had thought. When I found him in the woods I pegged him to be around twenty-four or twenty-five, but with a bare face I could see that he was most likely college age, maybe nineteen or twenty.

The second thing I realized was that he was kind of handsome. He wasn't a model or anything, but without the distraction of wildly grown-out hair he wasn't bad looking. I liked to think I had an okay face myself. I've had girlfriends in the past and they thought I was cute, but he was much more striking in appearance. His colorful, rich eyes stood out prominently against his pale skin and hair. Compared to me with my short reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes, Pine was the one you'd be more likely to look twice at. Still, what I was most pleased with was that his look meshed with his personality better.

"Well, Pine, I'm glad that you don't look like an escaped mental patient anymore." I knew he couldn't understand me, I just wanted to keep saying his name until he recognized it.

Even though he did look better, it still bothered me how emotionless he acted. I kind of wanted to see him smile again. I scratched his head and he responded by nuzzling the hollow of my throat. It tickled a little and I laughed. When I looked at him again he had that slight grin, but it was gone just as quickly. Oh, well. Baby steps, I guess.

I knew full well what I had signed up for. Having Pine live with me wasn't going to be easy. It would be a process, and there were plenty of things I would have to get used to. I had no clear idea what to do, and it wasn't like he was going to help me, but I wasn't afraid of the challenge. I was willing to do the work.

Even so, I knew that the next week would be a long one.

IV

Taking a whole week off of work wasn't something I did on a whim. I had prepared things to do besides that initial hike: trying some restaurants, different hikes, even a hotel stay, but I ended up cancelling all of it so I could stay home and get accustomed to Pine.

Realistically, I should have spent most of that time making sure that he knew the ground rules, "training" him, for lack of a better term, but I never made much progress on that frontier. Most of the biggest things he either already knew or picked up easily. He learned to recognize his name by the end of the day I gave it to him and the commands of sit, come, and stay were painless as well. He also knew how to use a toilet long before I came into the picture, so I never even had to worry about that, thankfully.

Any other more complicated things he learned were not many, and they were things he liked doing anyway. He liked getting rubbed with a towel, so he was able to pick up drying himself off right away. He also seemed to get cold easily, so by the end of the week I was able to just hand him clothes and he would put them on himself. That's about where the list of accomplishments ended. The two biggest things he could never get the hang of were eating and personal hygiene.

No matter what the food was, if it was a solid he would use his hands and if it was a liquid he would pour it into his mouth. He looked totally normal eating foods that were meant to be held with the fingers, but things got ridiculous when he was eating anything else. We had spaghetti one night and he went right to scooping it up with his hands. I couldn't watch it for more than a few seconds. I just used a fork to feed him the rest of it myself. That started the trend of me feeding him anything I didn't trust him not to make a mess eating, more for my sake than his if I'm being honest.