Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
Willow and Bear now have friends that they meet regularly for a good charge around. Like us, they have their favourites, with Hattie (a Springerpoo) at the top of their list. On Wednesdays, though, Hattie goes to ‘daycare’, so I decided to change where we go, finding different places to walk, with new smells, sights and sounds.
This morning, we went to the woods, and it was beautiful. The path was lit with dappled sunshine that crept through the canopy and bounced off bright, green leaves, highlighting their variegated patterns. The duff and detritus were dry, the tiny paws of one bouncing Dachshund stirring up small clouds of dust that puffed up into the air as Willow jumped twigs and roots like a seasoned explorer.
Though she stays close, she has found her confidence in this once strange and slightly frightening environment, hopping along like a tiny gazelle. Interestingly, she hasn’t yet felt comfortable enough to stray from the path, but that’s okay, as I know she’s safe. Bear, on the other hand, is close on my heel, plodding along, ears pricked, demonstrating he’s not quite as happy as Willow.
Of course, Bear has deformities around his chest, which throw his little legs out of alignment and make his paws turn over. I noticed shortly after he came to me that he had real difficulties on uneven ground, as when it snowed and was icy, he wouldn’t walk. I thought at first it was the cold, but quickly realised it was the unevenness of the ground, and of course, the cold didn’t help.
Not long after that, though, I took him somewhere where the ground changed from paving to a rough path. He froze, hobbled a bit and whimpered, refusing to move. Quickly, I picked him up and got him back on grass.
He appears to walk on the sides of his little feet as their bones are not as they should be. He often spends time licking his toes and quietly crying until I gently massage them, which seems to help him.
As we wandered along the path, a man appeared in front of us, coming towards us. He was elderly, small and wiry, in shorts, walking boots and a T-shirt. He was Asian and almost certainly Sikh as he was wearing a joora. Of course, Willow went charging forward shouting, with Bear following suit, but before I could warn the man that, though shouty, they’re harmless, he immediately dropped to his knees. He put his palms out towards them and started talking softly to them in his own language.
Miraculously, Willow was instantly silent. Bear doesn’t tend to shout at people anymore, but Willow is still a little demon if she doesn’t know you, so her behaviour was surprising. As I caught up with them, I was stunned to see both sausages, their paws up on the man’s knees, enjoying a head rub.
The man grinned at me and the first thing he said was: “You haven’t had them long, under a year, yes?”
I responded by telling him that they’d been with me since last August and explained that I was still training them, as a kind of apology for Willow’s shouting.
He picked Willow up in his arms, stroking her as she determinedly tried to wash his beard, her tail spinning.
He laughed and said: “She’s a very happy dog now, very happy!” Then popped her back on the ground and put both of his hands on Bear, stroking him gently but firmly along his flank, Bear looking up at him.
He surprised me by saying words to the effect of: “This little dog tells me he has known much pain, terrible fear, before…but he is safe now, he knows that he is safe now. You have done a very good thing.”
Taken aback, I tried to answer, to say something chatty, anything, but I couldn’t as I suddenly felt a tide of emotion welling up. The man stood and put his hands out, touching mine as I struggled to speak, apologising for my bizarre behaviour.
His long fingers squeezed my arm and stroked my hand as he said gently, “That’s okay, you are feeling his past. You are a good woman, may God bless you.”
And with that, before I could compose myself, he told something to the beasties in his own language, said goodbye and wandered off through the trees. As soon as he had passed, I felt the tide of emotion leave me instantly. It was both strange and somehow wonderful. I don’t know who this man was, but he was very, very spiritual, and both dogs instantly trusted him.
I watched him for several minutes as he left, picking his way carefully through the undergrowth, feeling an overwhelming sense of lightness. Smiling, I called my furry companions to me and we continued our walk back to the car.
I felt like all three of us had been touched by an innate goodness. He blessed me and I felt blessed. I can’t explain it, but it was as if he saw inside my little dogs and was as if they really did speak to him, however ridiculous that sounds. If they did, they told him they are happy and safe now – and that’s all I needed to hear, it’s more than enough.
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.