James Osborne Novels

 His mother was a raven-haired beauty called Sherry. We don’t know much about his father.

The baby arrived on time.  He was small for his age.  Right from birth, he got a lot of ‘mileage’ out of his black curly hair and sparkling brown eyes.  Not surprisingly, he became a ‘chick magnet’.

A special family had been looking out for Sherry.  But after the little guy was born, they felt he should be put up for adoption.  Sherry wasn’t given much say in the matter.

An adoptive family was found.  They lived in another city far away.  A young woman with special training in small children agreed to take him there.  He was just eight weeks old.  For most of the plane trip, the little one slept on her lap.  He didn’t know he was the center of attention during the entire trip.  Flight attendants and nearby passengers hovered around like helicopter parents.  Everyone wanted to hold him.  The young woman refused, keeping him protectively on her lap for the entire flight.

The arrival was much anticipated by the three daughters in the adoptive family’s home.  They were even more excited than the people on the plane.  The young woman who’d brought him laid the little one on the carpeted living room floor so they all could see him better.  She understood, reluctantly, her job was done now.

The jostling and excitement of arrival woke the little one.  He looked around apprehensively at the strange surroundings. He moved his limbs unsteadily.

“What should we name him?” one of the daughters asked as they huddled around him on their knees, making cooing noises.  Each of the family offered suggestions.  They discussed a number of choices.

Then the father looked down on the little body with the curly black hair.  He thought this vulnerable little being needed something big and strong for a name.  He was reminded of a character in an old newspaper cartoon.

“Why don’t we call him Brutus?” he asked, expecting resistance.  He quickly explained why.

There was a short silence, and then all of them happily agreed.

Brutus it was.  The name was perfect for the tiny Poodle whose calm disposition, intelligence and charm would make him the center of the family’s attention for the rest of his long life.