- Joined
- Aug 4, 2001
- Posts
- 4,531
When was the last time you cried? I don’t mean just got a bit weepy watching a sad movie or reading a sad book, but really let it all out. Tears and wails and all.
For me it was this morning. My morning started out normal enough. Shower, coffee, catch up on e-mail and Lit. Jump in the car and ride to work. Typical. That is until I saw him sitting by the edge of the road.
Just about every morning during my sunrise drive I see a nice older man walking his clearly older Golden Retriever along the wide path that lines the five lane busy road. This morning as I came round the corner the old man was sitting on the curb his head in his hands. I slowed and then saw what captured my heart tightly in my throat. Beside the old man just off the road lay a very still mound of golden fur. I hit my brakes and pulled off the road nearly wrecking my car.
I walked slowly to the old man looking at the dog. Neither the man nor the dog moved. I placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and asked if he needed help.
“I dropped his ball” was his only response through sobs.
I looked around and saw an old worn tennis ball laying in the gutter a few feet in front of the dog. With tear in my eyes I picked up the ball and placed a hand on the dog. He was already cool to the touch. I offered the man a ride to his home, which he accepted. He climbed into the front seat of my car as I took an old blanket from my trunk and wrapped the dog up. I carefully placed the dog in the trunk of the car and drove slowly following the man’s instructions to his home.
He lives in a great house in an affluent neighborhood with big yards and old trees. I offered to help with the dog and the old man told me he knew just where to put him. I carried the dog round the side of the house into the backyard. There in the far corner was a great live oak with large sprawling limbs. The early rays of sunlight filtered through the tree's far reaching canopy into shafts of golden light that fell to the thick grass below.
The man met me with a shovel and I began to dig. Carefully I peeled a nice rectangle of sod away and dug a suitable hole. He helped me place the dog in the ground and push the sand and dirt back. I laid the section of sod slowly over the small mound as if I were laying a blanket over a small child.
The old man stood over the grave and spoke softly. “All dogs go to heaven, I shall be with him again someday.”
I could not hold it any longer. Tears began to stream down my face, my breath caught in my throat and choked me. I shook the man’s hand he thanked me for my kindness and I continued on to work. In my car I openly wailed at the world. So beautiful and animal so gentle a man.
I know neither the dog’s nor the man’s name, but they will both be forever a part of who I am.
For me it was this morning. My morning started out normal enough. Shower, coffee, catch up on e-mail and Lit. Jump in the car and ride to work. Typical. That is until I saw him sitting by the edge of the road.
Just about every morning during my sunrise drive I see a nice older man walking his clearly older Golden Retriever along the wide path that lines the five lane busy road. This morning as I came round the corner the old man was sitting on the curb his head in his hands. I slowed and then saw what captured my heart tightly in my throat. Beside the old man just off the road lay a very still mound of golden fur. I hit my brakes and pulled off the road nearly wrecking my car.
I walked slowly to the old man looking at the dog. Neither the man nor the dog moved. I placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and asked if he needed help.
“I dropped his ball” was his only response through sobs.
I looked around and saw an old worn tennis ball laying in the gutter a few feet in front of the dog. With tear in my eyes I picked up the ball and placed a hand on the dog. He was already cool to the touch. I offered the man a ride to his home, which he accepted. He climbed into the front seat of my car as I took an old blanket from my trunk and wrapped the dog up. I carefully placed the dog in the trunk of the car and drove slowly following the man’s instructions to his home.
He lives in a great house in an affluent neighborhood with big yards and old trees. I offered to help with the dog and the old man told me he knew just where to put him. I carried the dog round the side of the house into the backyard. There in the far corner was a great live oak with large sprawling limbs. The early rays of sunlight filtered through the tree's far reaching canopy into shafts of golden light that fell to the thick grass below.
The man met me with a shovel and I began to dig. Carefully I peeled a nice rectangle of sod away and dug a suitable hole. He helped me place the dog in the ground and push the sand and dirt back. I laid the section of sod slowly over the small mound as if I were laying a blanket over a small child.
The old man stood over the grave and spoke softly. “All dogs go to heaven, I shall be with him again someday.”
I could not hold it any longer. Tears began to stream down my face, my breath caught in my throat and choked me. I shook the man’s hand he thanked me for my kindness and I continued on to work. In my car I openly wailed at the world. So beautiful and animal so gentle a man.
I know neither the dog’s nor the man’s name, but they will both be forever a part of who I am.
