Clayton was not an animal lover. He had no use for pets and thought that dog and cat lovers were crazy. He lost several girlfriends because they had pets, or wanted one. He was engaged once to a lovely woman until she announced that she wanted a Labrador Retriever for her birthday. He refused. In hindsight, he realized that he went overboard in ridiculing her for needing the love of a small-brained animal.

Soon after, he bought a home in a quiet neighborhood and contented himself with frequent rounds of golf and a group of friends to drink a beer with now and then. He enjoyed gardening too, planting lots of flowers and even a few trees, all of them magnolia, his favorite.

That spring, he decided to add a few hanging flower baskets to his front porch. That’s when the trouble started. One morning about two weeks after hanging the baskets, he went to water the first basket, the one with the geraniums, and noticed something disturbing. What was this? Were there really two eggs sitting on a bed of straw in his basket? Such an intrusion was not welcome to say the least. His neighbor, a quiet woman who also lived alone, happened to be watering the flowers she had recently planted. “What is it, Clayton? Something wrong?”

“Yeah, Marguerite, I found these damn eggs in my geranium basket’” he said.

“Oh, well it’s probably Mourning Doves. They’ll be gone in about three weeks.”

Clayton didn’t say what he was thinking. They’ll be gone in three seconds. Instead, he asked, “How am I going to water the flowers? They’re going to die now.”

“Just be careful. The mother and father take turns incubating. But they leave the nest now and then. That’s when you water. But do be careful not to disturb the eggs.”

For two days, Clayton checked the basket when he left for work and then again when he returned at the end of the day. One of the doves was always there, staring back at him. The geraniums were beginning to wilt. He had no choice. He filled his watering can and carefully approached the nest. He poured water ever so carefully, into the basket, doing his best to avoid the dove and the two eggs. The dove seemed to be staring at him, keeping a watchful eye on what he was doing. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said softly. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I have a thing for Marguerite, I would have eaten those eggs for breakfast by now.”

He continued to water every other day. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he felt protective, maybe for the first time in his life, about a creature from the animal kingdom. That was when he made what appeared to be, a colossal error. Memorial Day was coming and he wanted to hang an American flag. He bought during his lunch hour. In his 37 years on earth, he never felt the need to hang the flag, not even on Flag Day. But this year was different. His country was going through a frightening time. He felt the need to display his love for the nation.

That morning, he took the flag bracket out of the garage, grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver and went to work installing the bracket on one of the posts that held up the porch. Unfortunately, the post was only about eighteen inches from the hanging basket that held the dove and her eggs. His second thwack of the hammer, sent her flying, out of her nest, squawking and screeching in protest.

Clayton was startled, but he finished the job and hung the large flag that flapped in the wind. Afterward, he checked every hour, slowly opening his front door to see if the dove returned to the nest. It did not. By that evening, having done some research, he was convinced that he had blown it. The doves would not return. With one unthinking move, he had thwarted life. He stepped out onto his porch and searched in vain for Chris, the name he had given the dove. Marguerite, who was standing in front of her house, waved.

“That dove seems to have left town before her damn eggs could hatch,” he said.

Marguerite walked over to his front porch and smiled. “You might try putting your flag away. All that flapping is probably scaring it.”

Clayton did as he was told. He put the flag away, went into his house and waited. When it got dark, he gave up. He didn’t sleep well that night. He actually wondered if he could somehow keep the eggs warm enough for them to hatch. Could he feed the birds?

The next morning, he jumped out of bed and peeked through his window blinds. What he saw made him jump and clap his hands. The mama dove was there and she was tending to her newborn babies. He was happy. And that was a surprise.

That night he asked Marguerite out to dinner. He asked her if she would help him pick out a puppy.