A Friend Indeed

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Before starting I would like to make it very clear that the first four lines are from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Thanks for reading.

A FRIEND INDEED

"He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small

For the dear God who loveth us

He made and loveth all."

I was walking along GMS road, as I did every day, heading back from school to home. Each day I would see an array of sceneries- cars honking and puffing out smoke like a man smoking a cigarette, making everybody else gag around him, eucalyptus trees, people milling around shops and restaurants, residential colonies, gardens and parks.

I was in a hurry to get home that day, since it was my friend's birthday and I still needed to make a card for her and buy a gift too. I was practically jogging, then I paused for a while quickly scanned the road for cars and when I didn't see any I had almost crossed the road, when a bike screeched to a halt, its wheel against my leg. I moved out of the way, and mumbled an apology for suddenly coming in the way. But the rider was nicer than most, he didn't shout at me, just asked me to be careful. It wasn't the first time this had happened. I should be more careful. I continued walking along the way at a somewhat slower pace. A little later, I saw this tiny little puppy with a tawny fur standing on one said of the road. I had some food left in my lunch box, and though I knew that showing any affection towards it would mean that it would start following me, I was compelled to do it. It started rubbing itself against my leg, barking softly as it did so. I sat on my haunches and started tickling its nose when I noticed an injury on one of its paws. I had a sudden urge to take the puppy home, though saying that wouldn't really please my parents, would be an understatement. But I felt very strongly for animals and I didn't want to hurt the pup's mother by simply taking him away. Finally I decided that I would wait there to see if she came. A small kid hopped toward me with a lolly pop stuck in his mouth, I spoke to him for a while and was informed that the puppy lived there alone. The selfish part of me was delighted to hear this, and I took the puppy I my arms and took it home.

In a few days, the puppy , whom I now called Snowy became my constant companion. He would follow me everywhere, his eyes full of love and unsuspecting trust. I didn't like sharing Snowy with many people, because he was friendly with everyone, and the possibility frightened me that he might leave me. As time passed, our bond grew stronger and he morphed into a full grown healthy adult. Now nobody would bother me lest Snowy would bite them, and nobody would dare to mess with him for the fear that I would make them go through hours of torture until they apologised to him. We made a fine team.

One day I was cycling, and had headed off in a direction, which was relatively less used. Snowy was right behind me. I was exhilarated, the cool wind rushed past my face. I'm still not sure of what happened next, but I was thrown among some bushes on the side of the road. The impact must have been pretty hard because I was knocked out for a few minutes. When I was conscious again, my head was spinning like it had been made to study endlessly and was later used as punching bag. Snowy was licking my face and whining. It had tuned dark. It was difficult to stand up, when I noticed a sharp pain on my left foot and fell back onto the ground with a thud. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying out in pain. It was necessary to get back home, my parents would be getting worried and I wasn't very enthusiastic about staying in the unknown neighbourhood for long in the dark. The bike having been rendered useless, I found myself a stick, pulled off my sweatshirt and tied it tightly around my ankle and grabbed Snowy's leash. Throughout the way, he was on guard, chasing of any creature who tried to come near me. Leaning on the stick, supported by Snowy, I was breathing laboriously by the time I got home. Seating myself heavily on the doorstep, I relied on Snowy to bring my parents outside. Then, seeing my mother run towards me, I passed out.

The remonstrations and dire warnings notwithstanding, this incident had put my relationship with Snowy on a higher pedestal. Even the most avid dog-haters among my family and friends now grudgingly admitted him into their hearts.

From being struck with his innocence and trust, to being a constant companion, we are now at a stage when we understand each other implicitly. Indeed, he has shaped my personality, made me secure and confident. It breaks my heart to think that he is close to his end. Why can't dogs live to be as old as us?