Best Friends

I

September is the most beautiful month on earth and in Strathloy it
resembles paradise. Strathloy-a small, warm and friendly town where
people wholeheartedly enjoy the simple pleasures of life. And nature.
Roland was no exception. He loved to doze in the backyard especially on
a sunny winter afternoon like this one. He yawned and stretched his
lithe body as he heard the slowly approaching footsteps of Mrs.
Proudfoot. "Come have your lunch dear!" she said with her usual
fondness for him and he waged his tail affectionately in return.

He was a magnificent German Shepherd, a little lazy though. Handsome,
no doubt, with his sable hair coat and deep umber eyes. His bloodline
was a matter of pride for him and his lady owner Mrs. Proudfoot. Often
among her friends she used to discuss his father-late Resnick-with
quite vanity. For he was honored as 'Canine of the year' for three
consecutive years by the renowned Kennel Club of Strathloy. Roland was
only two years old and he aspired to be like his ideal-his dad. Someday
I'll steal the show and everyone will remember me. This was his
preeminent dream. He growled, pleased with the idea of meal he followed
Mrs. Proudfoot inside the cottage.

Roland was licking the last morsel of lamb meat in his bowl when the
doorbell burst into music. "Gawd! Have mercy! No more salesmen please!"
maundering Mrs. Proudfoot put down her novel and reading glasses on the
sofa-side table and walked with a little stoop to answer the
door.

"Good noon Mrs. Proudfoot". It was Sam, her teenage neighbor. "May I
come in please? I am in soup and only you can help me", said Sam with
high hopes. "Oh why son do come in and make yourself comfortable
first", said Mrs. Proudfoot as she waved her hand towards the couch and
closed the door behind him. "My! My! You look drained. What happened?"
she asked with genuine worry. She was a lonely widow. A charming lady
on the wrong side of sixty but very active and robust despite her age.
She was well loved in her neighborhood especially by kids. Though she
had no kids to call her own.

Once encouraged Sam disclosed his dilemma. "Mrs. Proudfoot you know my
friend Barry?" She nodded with mute retrospection and Sam continued,
"Well accidentally he has broken some chemistry lab equipment. Its
kinda expensive, 200 dollars. He has only 55 bucks as saving and his
parents can't afford to pay the rest. They are as poor as church mouse.
Barry is working at the local bakery but at a petty wage. That won't
do," said Sam pettifogging nervously. He adjusted his collar with index
finger as if releasing the dreadful tension. With a dramatic sigh he
bared further, "If he didn't refund the loss till next to coming Monday
he will be dismissed from school. This would jeopardize his future. I
have to help him Mrs. Proudfoot whatever it takes. I can't let him
suffer like that. He is my best friend."

"Don't worry son. You want me to pay..." but Mrs. Proudfoot was
interrupted. "No, No, Mrs. Proudfoot! This is not what I came to you
for. No doubt we need money but I will work for you. It's winter. Would
you favor me to graft your roses please? For as low as 2 bucks a pot."
He importuned with begging eyes. She was touched. "You are such a dear
Sammy. It's so nice of you to work and help your friend like that. We
will start tomorrow morning. Now relax okay." Then she said smiling,
"Let's seal the deal with coffee and cake."

II

Next day rain started to pour, painting the ever-picturesque landscape
with fresh vivid colours. I love rains. Roland moaned licking his toe
clean looking at Sam with watchful eyes. He was grafting the orange
roses.

"Oh! I love rains. Do you Sammy?" asked Mrs. Proudfoot doing tapestry
under the back porch, enjoying rain and instructing Sam now and then.
He was a deft worker though he never before lifted a rose-knife in his
life. Maybe the desperation of doing something for the sake of one's
dearest renders the needed incentive and dexterity. "I do Mrs.
Proudfoot but after a while it bores me. You have to be under a roof
all the time. That's boring", said Sam pulling a serious face that made
her laugh. "I used to feel the same son when I was your age."

All of a sudden Roland spotted something behind the mulberry bush. He
ran barking towards it followed by Mrs. Proudfoot and Sam holding an
umbrella. "What the dickens is going on here?" said Mrs. Proudfoot and
stopped short. Even Roland stopped growling and stood surprisingly
quiet. They all stared, mesmerized, at the foundling and it stared
back, with huge innocently trusting yet terrified eyes. There sat a
mousy ewe. Shocked, scared and soaked to the bone. About nine months
old she was as beautiful as a wingless fairy. "Goodness gracious!"
cried Mrs. Proudfoot and dropped on her knees to pick up the soggy
bundle with trembling fingers. "She is so soft. Say isn't she pretty!"
she said and broke into sweet nothings to sooth the frightened
ewe.

The three of them gathered around the ewe, on the kitchen table,
cheerfully doing things for her. The most delighted was Roland. Unable
to break the spell he was waving his tail with affection, looking at
the ewe with the eyes of someone besotted. After been tenderly dried by
Mrs. Proudfoot she was looking even more white and pretty. Fluffy and
soft like a calico ball, she was no longer afraid. She seemed to be
hungry too as she guzzled the third refill of milk. She eyed Roland
coquettishly and blushed under his admiring gaze. Sam was stroking her
soft ear. He asked, "Are you going to keep her Mrs. Proudfoot?"

"Oh yes of course! I wonder where she come from though", said Mrs.
Proudfoot with momentary pause and then dismissed the thought and said,
"She is so cute. We will call her Meg."

"Meg", said Sam feeling the name on his lips, "Nice name Mrs.
Proudfoot."

We are going to be good friends Meg. Somehow I know. Roland's eyes
passed the message. I feel the same. Answered Meg's and she licked the
remaining milk. Heavy droplets drummed the windowpane as a sign of
blessing from heaven above.

III

The blessing was fruitful. Roland &; Meg were the best of friends in
a matter of days. Never before did Roland realize how alone he was,
until Meg came as a miracle. Curious question about her arrival still
hung unanswered, shrouded in mystery. But not for this twosome. They
knew they were destined to meet someday. They played for hours and
hours in the backyard with Roland's rubber ball. Chasing butterflies.
Running around Mrs. Proudfoot's roses. Rolling on grass. Frolicking in
rain. Sharing meals. Enjoying mud baths. Spoiling the otherwise neat
cottage and doing the whole caboodle of possible mischief.

It was not only the fun that they had together, more than that it was
the feeling of belonging to someone. To love and if you are fortunate
enough to be loved in return. When you find someone really truly
special to share your dreams, hopes and fantasies; fears, pains and
sorrows; passions, desires and joys, you call him your best friend. And
to have and hold that gift of unconditional love is the culmination of
lifetime.

IV

Barry was close to nervous breakdown. "Sam tomorrow is Monday and we
are still 40 dollar short. God oh God! What am I supposed to do now?"
he moaned
"Don't worry I'll sell my watch. That'll do just fine", said Sam.
"No way! You have done so much already. It's all over Sam."
"Stop it you fool! It's not over. Not yet."
"But&;#8230;"
"No buts", said Sam looking at Mrs. Proudfoot's cottage with plotting
eyes and calculating mind. I have an idea. He decided at last.

And it rained again. A thunderstorm this time.

V

Roland was away with Mrs. Proudfoot for his monthly checkup at Mr.
Corbin, the Vet, and Meg was all alone at the cottage. She was dozing
near orange roses unaware of the lurking danger. She rolled over in
slumber. Suddenly someone caught her by the mouth. She wanted to scream
hard but was helpless. She writhed desperately with all her might,
tried to get free but her capturer was much stronger. She was feeble
and miserable in his grasp as he lashed her mouth and feet painfully
tight with a rope. This was a horrible vile and inhuman act that her
kidnapper shoved her in a stinky wet sack and walked away with the
silence of a Python.

Meg was ruthlessly abducted.

VI

"Mr. Bean I've gotta deal for you," said Sam putting down the writhing
sack on the butcher's counter.
"What's this?" asked Mr. Bean, the butcher.
Sam exposed tied Meg. Weak and exhausted she tottered pitifully on the
counter. "How about a lamb for just 40 bucks," he said making the deal
tempting for the butcher, "It's winter and lamb chops are hot
favourites. Sure you know."
"Keep telling me! Ya got it," said Mr. Bean handling over the
money
"Thanks Mr. Bean" said Sam and walked away smiling.

He was happy. His best friend's future was safe and secure. No more
trouble.

And Meg. Our poor little Meg gave her humble life under the expertly
merciless knife of Mr. Bean, the butcher. She was turned into silent
meat ready to be sold for dollar five a pound. She died the agonizing
death she did not deserve.

VII

Roland couldn't believe Meg was gone. How could she just vanish? Roland
was angry with her. Angry with himself. He was unable to find her. That
fateful Sunday evening when he found her missing he went absolutely
crazy. In his frenzy he ran down the town, desperately exploring every
possible and impossible nook and cranny. But she was nowhere to be
seen. She disappeared as mysteriously as she arrived. Three days passed
since then and his hope to find her was dying bit by bit with each
passing day.

No more was he a playful, alert dog. Instead he was metamorphosed into
a broken hearted lamenting body. He felt lost and alone. That wonderful
sense of belonging was gone. He was down to a morsel a day compared to
his once hearty diet. Languishing for Meg he spoiled his health and
lost the vigor for life. Even the sunshine couldn't warm his pining
heart. Now there was no charm in butterflies. No fun in the rubber ball
or mud bath. When it drizzled, he sat for hours in the corner of the
backyard, crying among the orange roses that Meg loved so much. Come
back to me. Please. His heart cried out for her.

Without you oh! Without you,
I may do the things I do.
But what will they mean,
Without you.

VIII

Mrs. Proudfoot missed Meg too. She was such a pretty little thing. God
keep her safe wherever she is. Her soul chanted a silent prayer. But
her main cause of concern was Roland and his now declining health. What
must I do? She thought. Aha! She got an idea and walked down
town.

"Mrs. Proudfoot! Glad to see ya! What wud ya like to have?" asked Mr.
Bean.
"Some meat for Roland," said Mrs. Proudfoot, "about a pond"
"Ya got it! I have some good stuff for dogs. A little stale. Four days
to be honest but it will serve him just fine. What do ya say?"
"Never mind. Pack a pound please. How much?"
"Five bucks only," said Mr. Bean.

Mrs. Proudfoot placed the meat in the bowl and called out, "Roland,
have your lunch dear." But he didn't show. She carried the bowl to
where he was laying. In the backyard, among the orange roses. Something
cracked in her heart as she felt the intensity of his grief. "Do eat
something Roland," she said caressing him and sighed, "I loved Meg too.
She was such a darling. She will come back you will see. You will meet
gain." With that she laid down the bowl in front of him.

God! What the hell is this? Tears sparkled in Roland's eyes as he
sniffed the meat. No! No! This is impossible. Meg. Oh dear! Talk to me.
You can't die. You can't be dead. Bewailed his soul. It was lamb's
meat. Meg's flesh. Cold and silent in his eating bowl. It was hard to
take. Impossible to believe. Roland touched the stagnant meat
tentatively with his fore leg and turned it over once. It was
motionless. My Meg is dead. The wretched cognizance was too much to
bear. His heart gave a sharp painful lurch and he fell near the bowl.
Near Meg. Later surprised Mr. Corbin pronounced him dead.

Why the dog died is beyond medical science and living logic. But you
and I know. Roland died for Meg. His best friend.

THE END