Category: Writers Block
Silas
Clouds of dust shadowed the little boy like a loyal dog as he hastened down the dirt road. His brown corduroy shorts made a steady zip zipping sound as he carried the burlap sack to the river. In an effort to forget where he was going, his eyes wandered over the cracks and footprints that covered the way before him.
His father had insisted that he take the weak little runt to the river. “That wee one’s takin’ milk from the healthy ones. He’s not getting enough to stay alive. He’ll die anyways.”
The little boy had done his best to persuade his father to let him keep the pup, but he’d had no luck. Getting rid of this pup was so difficult. He was throwing his dream away.
He wiped a tear from his eye as a trembling hand remained suspended over the water and reluctantly released the bundle into the liquid coffin.
As he stumbled back over the travel-weary road, trying to imagine he wasn’t the one who had tossed the pup away, he thought he saw a movement near the river.
Paws that had been clammy with worry quickly cooled, but that relief was no comfort as the little black bundle felt his stomach begin to fill with water. In utter terror, he did his best to dig his way to freedom, but his musty captor would not release him. As his terror gave way to listless defeat, he felt himself being lifted from what had recently been an inescapable fate.
Two reassuring warm hands gently drew him from the sack, and the puppy was slowly and lovingly revived by the bedraggled old man who held him.
This man was nothing like the one who had thrust him into that terrible sack. He nestled in as he felt the man tuck him close to his side and take one of his clumsy paws into his warm callused hand. With a gentle smile, he said, “You need a name old son. How about I call you Silas? ’Tis a big name for a little chap like you, but with paws like that, you’re bound to grow into it, eh boy?” Silas continued to tremble from the cold, but he feebley licked the finger that was rhythmically stroking his snout. He slept as the man made his way home.
Silas eagerly caught the drips of milk that the man’s trembling hand patiently dropped into his open mouth. “I lost my job today chap, you know? Worked there for fifty years, but they don’t want me around no more. Body’s too run down for their liking. You came along just in time, or maybe I did, either way, here we are.” He tossed aside the dropper and began to rub Silas’ now full tummy. “There you have it, not as good as your mom had, I’m sure, but it should get you through.”
When the little ever-curious pup’s eyes opened, the two of them could be seen anywhere you looked. The old man walked slowly as Silas tripped and stumbled over his much-too-big feet in a hurried attempt to keep up with his master. The man always chuckled at his efforts and stooped to pick him up. With glea, Silas piled into the man’s arms and enjoyed the rest of their walk with a new outlook on life.
A few months later, there they were, the lanky adolescent dog still tripping over his gangly libs and massive feet, but the old man made him walk now. Every morning, they sat down to breakfast together. Silas laid at the man’s feet as he ate. “Looks like a nice day out there. Come along old son, let’s have your walk.”
Gleafully, the young dog bounded to the door, and together, they made their way to the park. Silas loped and stumbled ahead on his still too big feet. Every few seconds he looked back and wagged his tail furiously as his soft brown eyes met smiling blue ones. “The ticker isn’t what it once was chap. Let’s have a rest.”
Every day, the man needed his rest about halfway through their walk. Silas layed in the shade beside him and reveled in the gentle caresses down his back. Sometimes, the man brought a ball, and Silas would bring it back as many times as he threw it. Eventually, with Silas waiting to support him, he stood, and they slowly made their way back home.
When the man went about the little town doing erands, Silas waited patiently outside the door until he returned. Everyone always knew where the man was, because Silas sat like a shaggy black statue until the old man came out again. With a lazy wag of his tail, Silas nudged the man’s hand and walked at his side once more. Of course, there were places where Silas was just as welcome as the old man was. He slept at his feet in the coffee shop, was seen more than once at the pub and was adored at the barber shop.
As Silas settled into his adult figure, he walked with a new grace and purpose. The puppy with more legs than he knew what to do with was gone. He was there with the old man as his joints began to tremble. He was there beside him supporting him when he staggered. As the man grew stooped, Silas’ muzzle became white with age.
One evening, Silas sat outside the Social Security office; one place he was absolutely never allowed in. The old man had layed a shaking hand on his head. “It’ll be but a few minutes. Now Silas, sit, now Silas stay. Don’t you worry.” With a soft whine and a lick of the hand that had literally given him his life back, Silas watched sadly as the man went in without him. Silas continued to sit by the door as the sirens approached. He didn’t see the stretcher leave, as they came in the front and went out the back. He sat patiently, wating for his master to return. Wearily, he rested his creamy muzzle on his huge bear paws. The old man had never taken this long. He curled up and slept, but he always kept one ear aleart for the the familiar tread of the old man, but he never came. No one ever thought to tell him that the old man wouldn’t be coming back. For months, that dog waited. He must have eaten, but no one saw him leave his post. His hope never subsided. Each time the door opened, he eagerly wagged his tail, only to let it droop once more as yet another stranger passed. Some of those people patted his head, but he didn’t go with anyone. He didn’t want to miss his master when he came out.
As the sirens come and go, there is an unreadable look of confusion on his milk-dipped face. Is he remembering the day the old man didn’t keep his word? Does he think the sirens will bring his master back? Footsteps again; is this his master, his old friend? His head droops once more as a boy looks hard at him, frowns in consintration and walks past.
Meghan, this is wonderful, so happy, so sad.. Thank you for coming back and sharing a wonderful story.