Old Dog
Part 1 - The old Man
The musty old man sat in his grungy rocking chair, with his feet planted firmly into the indents outlined in the wood planks from all the years of rocking in the same spot. The chair creeked back and forth as he reached for his corn cob pipe, nesselled next to the bag of tobacco on the tiny table. Hands trembling from years of heavy drinking, barley able get the pipe to his lips. His chest inhaled and exhaled deeply as he eagerly awaited, the flame to scorch the tobacco and provide the pillow of smoke.
I’m a old dog myself, 18 years ago he brought me home in the back of that rusty old pickup, I still remember that burning oil smell wafting into my nose, made it twitch. I was frightened, I peed twice in the bed of the truck. He did not yell at me, when he opened the tail gate the metal grinded to a halt and the lukewarm yellow fluid flowed on to his shoes. He could see the fear in my large round black eyes as I stared at him, with my head slightly down. He chuckled and put his arms out towards me and called to me Little Ben. I took a few shaky steps toward the man, before I sprinted into his arms.
When he put me down I darted around the freshly cut grass, rolling and jumping after butterflies, after my exploration I folllowed him into the large home. I was not greated by kids or a wife he just had me, I felt wanted and loved. He was a energetic man, played catch with me every day, always took me for rides. My ears flopped in the wind as we drove down the dusty back roads and the country music filled the air.
As the years past he and I began to grew further apart, he drank a little more each day, until I found myself sleeping outside in the dog house at night. The cold bit deep into my bones, while I layed on the gritty wooden bed.
I still love this man, it was not a perfect life, but I was fed every day and I knew when to let him be alone.
Its hard for me to lay here at his feet and watch him fall apart. If only I could tell him I can smell the cancer in his lungs, that he does not have much time left. If I could tell him, he was a good man even with all his faults. I wouldn’t have picked a different man to be my friend all these years. I can not, I can only look at him with my tired eyes. I can only whimper and bark, I hope when we depart we find eachother in the next life my good friend.
Part 2 -Week’s later
The sun crested over the horizion and the warm rays touched the roof of my dog house, the dew glisten and sparkled as the light reflected through the miniscule watter dropplets, as I layed there watching the sun rise.
Its not normal for the old man not to be up before the sun to tend to the chickens.
I remember the first time I chased after one, the old man hit me with the first stick he could find, I lost count after the 5th strike, feathers fluttered in the air as I whimpered away. I never chased another animal after that day, I knew better.
My bones are tired, its not easy any more for me to stand, takes a little bit to get momentum going. I streched my body and yawned before my front paws guided me out the narrow door way as my hips swayed back and forth. I meandered up the path way to the porch and hobbled up the few steps and planted my butt in front of the screen door.
The old man was yelling late last night, I felt it better I stay out side no reason to be the old mans outlet. I noticed the front door was cracked open, so I worked my nose and paw in between the screen door and squeezed through pushing the main door open. He always left it craked for me in case I wanted to come in.
It had been awhile, a month maybe since I had been inside, I stared at the flight of stairs that led to the second floor, it had been even longer since I tried to get up them. But I did, one leg at a time pausing and resting midway. I stared at the last step working up the energy to make it to the summit. With a small grunt, I pulled my weak hips up onto the next floor. The smell reminded me of home, it had been so long since that smell at tickled my nose, it was the old mans after shave wafting out of the bathroom. A little smile appeared, on my face as my tounge droped out and there was a little bounce to my step as I galloped down the hall.
The tattered door to the old man’s bed room was slightly cracked, there were still claw marks that had been stained over from when I was a puppy, I wedge my nose in beteween the door and its frame and pushed it open. Still energetic and full of life, I bounced my way over to his bed and and throw my front paws up and onto the heavy blanet.
My smile turned to sadness, my wide eyes sank and tears formed. There was the old man with his white face, mouth gapped and and his hand over his chest. I whimpered but there there was no response, there was no “Hey Boy!” From the old man. My tail stopped wagging, as I pushed with all I had to get up onto the bed. I layed next to the old man, his cold body made me shiver. His smell made me sick, I did not eat, I did not drink. 2 weeks passed before they found our bodies, two old friends side by side.
Troy F
