His
horror grew as he walked through the wealthy suburb that had long been his
neighbourhood. He passed homes of friends and colleagues where decaying bodies
drooped like grizzly decorations from windows and balcony rails. He passed
houses razed to the ground, where the smell was so overwhelming he gagged,
hurrying away as fast as he was able. Bloodless heads spiked on a fence,
blackened hands and feet strewn like flowers in a patch…he soon learned not to
look. Staring at his feet, he walked on. Of course his feet encountered
trophies also, thank god for the boots, but he forced himself on, ever on.
Away.
No one
alive. It was silent, empty of human sound…gods, what evil had befallen their
world?
A dog
startled him, barking from behind a wrought iron fence to his right and he
stopped dead and stared at the animal. It was small and hairy, a child’s
beloved pet- he was so surprised to see anything alive that almost it undid
him. Swallowing convulsively, he lifted his gaze from the yapping, pitiful
creature- the house further back was burnt, a blackened shell. A bright blue
tricycle lay discarded on the trampled lawn…oh, dear lord. The dog, soot
encrusted and smelly, could not escape its prison. It would starve…and
die…slowly. No. Marcus cried as he struggled with the gate…had to let it out,
it was as hungry and as lonely as he was and did not deserve its fate. The dog
sat silent, watching, waiting, its tail periodically wagging, as, cursing, he
fought the latch. Open! The poor animal came warily, but when Marcus knelt to
scratch in his food bag it ran over to sit before him, black eyes flicking from
bag to man, man to bag, tongue hanging out…
He sat
down hard in the road and let tears come. Muttering nonsense through them he
drew out water, the cup, and one of the containers of crackers. Neither of
them, he suspected, would stomach more. Crying and speaking to the dog just to
hear his voice, glad to hear the humanness, ridiculously happy to see the dog
perk its ears at the sound, he shared the water, the dog drinking greedily from
the cup, and then shared the crackers. One for the dog, one for him, one for
the dog, one for him…until between them they finished it. He reached out and
scratched behind its ears and it licked his hand…and a friendship was born.
Marcus
stood, hefted his load and walked on. He did not call, said not a word, but he
did not chase the dog away either. He smiled down as it trotted along at his
side, and nodded. You and me, pal, just you and me.
Animated Spirit
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