Narrative

Old Tom limped down the street in the warm rain. He was heading for the bar on the corner of Henderson Boulevard where he regularly went for an ice cold brew on hot summer afternoons. Come to think of it, he didn’t so much drink his beer, as sit in the corner nursing the same glass for hours at a time watching those perfectly round chilled droplets hit the mahogany countertop. A young sporting type, who looked remarkably similar to his youngest boy, approached him and offered him a drink but Tom just shook his fist and discretely muttered a few curses under his breath.

He spoke to no-one, and after a while rose slowly from his chair and hobbled slowly towards the door. The rain had not stopped, and rivers of water were coursing down the road. On the way home his neighbour stopped his truck and offered the old man a ride home but Tom shook his head and shouted out some obscenity. He could not tolerate any hint of pity. The only thing he had left after a lifetime slaving day after day at the docks was his pride. He would never accept anything from anyone, and he could manage on his own now, as he always had always managed before.

As he continued his March towards his apartment as his back ached heavily and his old injured leg was so stiff that he had to frequently stop and attempt to rub some life back into it. Nurse Williams came out of the old folks’ day centre as he passed the gate and invited him in, with promises of sweet cherry pie, a warm drink and something to ease the pain in his joints. Old Tom growled a negative response and struggled on down the road. Just ahead of him a small dog skipped merrily along the sidewalk.

It looked scrawny, as if it could do with a good meal, or several. It had ears that flopped over down past it’s chin and a black patch over one side of its face. When it turned to size Tom up it cocked its head back and looked directly into the old man’s eyes. Some bizarre spark of fellow feeling passed between them and Tom winked at the animal, so that it wagged its tail and gladly fell into step beside him. As they walked side by side down the road, Tom recalled his childhood in New Jersey, and the much larger puppy who had been his soul mate back then.

How they used to explore the wild and un tamed backstreets together day after day as well as how he would sometimes have to share his meals with the pup when they went through the depression. As a that brief moment of reminiscing faded, so did the smile on his face. Those days were now as much a figment of fantasy as the pretend monsters and dragons he slayed in the alleyways. He returned to his bleak reality. Tom had driven away his wife, and his two sons, with his angry words and proud ways.

He always assumed they would be there, alas poor old Tom was wrong. A rushing sound interrupted his memories. Although the rain has considerably weakened, the river was still flooding over the road. His young companion let out a energetic bark as he jumped in and began paddling towards the river bank. Tom spoke to the dog and called it back from the edge, it calmly looked back as if hinting Tom not to worry. It reminded him of the look his eldest son gave him back when he had graduated and headed towards his first job and life in the real world.

As the young pup kept moving forward, Tom slowly got more and more concerned, although the river did not seem so aggressive he knew it was unpredictable. The dog kept paddling steadily as Tom saw something rushing downstream. He quickly shouted out at the dog but it turned disdainfully away and was swept out of sight under the giant maple log in an instant. Without hesitation Tom rushed into the river. As any sailor he knew, in the back of his mind, rushing blindly into a strong current was the definition of stupidity.

He did’t care, that young creature in the stream was innocent and worth far more than an unappreciative, selfish old man who had wasted the love of friends and family for nothing but his unyielding pride. He swam downstream as fast and as hard as he could, his injured leg now resembling a rusty old anchor dragging him down towards the cold and murky depths. He eventually realized there was nothing he could do, that poor innocent creature perished, only for wanting to keep him company with no desire of anything in return. He fought the current back to shore and continued the seemingly endless walk home.

Tom wept that night in his lonely apartment. He wept for the waste of a young life. For the want of a moment of trust, the cocky little dog had died. He realised the message that his little friend had brought to his lonely existence: death comes swiftly and soon, and no creature can afford to disdain the outstretched hand of friendship when it comes along. With pride comes pain, sometimes we are unappreciative of those around us and the little things people do to help us feel well with our existence and how we can be blinded by our old stubborn pride to how we take them for granted.

The puppy in this story embodies the kindness and companionship offered to us occasionally by strangers, and how if we fail to actively do something in response to those actions, they can be swept away and it will be to late to realize what we had. This is the hidden moral of the story as well as the more obvious one at the end, take every chance you have as soon as you get it because you never long how long it, or you, will last.