Friend for a Lifetime

by D. R., Warwick, RI



It was a hot, clammy summer night. As the ineffably beautiful evening sky steadily faded into dark night, the shimmering moon shone intensely upon the navy blue lake and looked like a silver coin floating in a dense sea of black murkiness. The air was still except for the bothersome night bugs that were flying about, distracting and annoying me. My family ate and played merry yet simplistic games. Turned off by these "baby games" and tired of being yelled at for fathomless reasons, I retreated to gazing at the sparkling stars. Suddenly, a deep feeling of boredom and melancholy hit me, and I realized how boring my vacation was going to be.

Yes, my unchangeable and nostalgic family had inevitably decided to retreat to the countryside for yet another loathsome vacation. Actually, I was happier at my pleasant home than I was at the rustic cabin by the clear blue lake in New Hampshire. This was due mostly to the fact that I was mistreated and ignored at family vacations. While I certainly didn't wish to go, I was nevertheless forced to.

After an exciting night of gazing at the sparkling stars, I reluctantly decided to plop in bed. One cannot imagine how unbearable it is to sleep in the same bed with my brother. While sleeping, my brother looks and acts like a hideous monster. Twisting, turning, talking, squiggling, squawking, and unconscious talking are but some of the nocturnal activities my brother tortures me with. My brother sleeps like a baby, but I do not sleep for even one hour. This was yet another example of how terrible my vacation was going to be.

I was mistaken, however. This ironically turned out to be the best and most rewarding vacation I have had. While at the rustic cabin by the clear blue lake in New Hampshire, I met a very special friend.

While I was listlessly roaming the scenic countryside, aimlessly searching for something fun or exciting to do, I became distracted by a blurry image over a steep hill and beyond a green field. Then suddenly, magically, the uncanny image split in two and became two distinctly different figures. One figure was tall and white, the other appeared to be a little brown blob. Then I heard a faint, monotonous pattern of yelps that blended in gently with the wind. As I heard this agitating noise, the two mysterious images slowly scaled toward me till they were vividly in view. One figure was a strikingly handsome man, the other a peculiar brown sack, the contents of which were churning about furiously, like a bag of boiling water reaching its effervescence. I was very surprised at this spectacle, for there were no other cabins around as far as the eye could see. The man was big and tall, and cast a foreboding image to my frivolous, childish being. He had deep-set, ocean blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with some unknown radiance.

Wearing whitish colors, he looked like a statuesque, god-like apparition before me. As he stared at me with a stone-like glare, I felt intimidated and frightened. I was about to turn and run in horror when the man casually called to me with a deep, yet gentle voice.

"Hello, young fellow. Beautiful day, isn't it?" he blurted out quickly. "What's your name? My name is Beau-ford." The man was an obsessive talker, speaking so rapidly that I couldn't answer either of his questions, not that I was listening to him anyhow. While I was listening to him subconsciously, I was really concentrating on his eccentric little sack. It was moving restlessly, and dying murmurs were emanating from it. Whoever or whatever was in it seemed to be trapped, and wanted to get out. I wanted to see the contents of the bag so badly that I could hardly contain myself. Seeming to know my thoughts, the man asked me if I would like to see the contents. I replied appropriately, and the man then began to undo the long brown tassels that concealed the Thing. Then out from the leather-bound sack bounced a lively, beautiful puppy. He was hopping around, and seemed to be happy to be free of his former confines. The puppy looked adorable as his curly, golden brown hair glistened in the sunlight. He was small and feeble and looked to be a couple of months old.

The inquisitive man then asked me, "How would you like to keep this puppy? Down at the cabin, the mother had a least a dozen of 'em. You can keep him, if you'd like."

I was not hesitant in my reply. I had always wanted a puppy and now I had the chance. I thanked the man, picked up the puppy and ran home. While it took a bit of convincing and storytelling, my parents reluctantly allowed me to keep the puppy. For the rest of that summer, I happily played with him. And after the trip, I took him home. It was then that I named him Bo, in recognition of the man who gave him to me. The puppy has grown up and is now a prize-winning show dog and a re-spected member of my family.

I've always wanted to thank the mysterious man, for he changed my life. I've always wondered why the man was in the field, why the dog was in the sack, and why he so willingly gave me, a total stranger, such a beautiful dog. These questions remain nebulous in my mind. My grandmother once told me that the man was bringing the sack to the lake in an effort to drown the puppy, for he obviously had too many. She said that this was what was done in the "olden days" to rid the owner of the burden of having to feed and care for an entire litter of puppies. When asked why the man didn't take the entire litter of puppies instead of taking just one, my unerring grandmother shrugged. Was the man an animal killer-to-be, or was he a majestic angel sent from heaven to give me a puppy? Perhaps I will never know. All I know is the man bestowed a gift on me that has given me years of satisfaction and pleasure. And I never have boring family vacations anymore.