THE ETERNAL BOND

The old man woke up with a start. The dim- lit rays of the sun fell on his face from the stained glass window. He sat up on his armchair rather stiffly, massaging his neck with his worn out hands. His faded blue eyes looked at his wrist watch. 

“Uh”, thought the old man, “It’s dawn. Well, time to wake up that little brute.” 

He stood up with a stifled moan, walked up to the cupboard and lifted up his favourite rosewood walking stick. Limping a little, he proceeded to the entrance, calling out to his dog, his only companion since Lena passed away two years back. He had always acknowledged in his mind, his reliance on this little creature – a basis of his fallible sustenance. 

“Philly!”

“Philly! Come on boy, let’s take a walk.”

When was the last time he had an appointment with a cardiologist? Oh! Just after he had celebrated his 75th birthday! Lena had always been the more enthusiastic one when it came to remembering the so-called red letter days of her life. Yes, she was still around to hold his hand and more scared talking to the doctor after he had suffered a mild attack. The doctor had said that his heart was very weak and the slightest of excitement could be fatal. 

But the old man had chuckled and said, “Well, Doc, I think I'll need a pill for my brain, for my head is still throbbing badly.” 

“Because you had collapsed dear” gasped Lena.

The old man was still lost in his plethora of thoughts which played in his mind like an unfinished song. The doctor had also advised him not to go for walks daily as it could cause exhaustion. But he didn’t care. His top priority was Philly’s health. Philly, his beloved Greyhound, his son.

Philly had heard his father's calls. He woke up with a start and straight away bounded towards the old man. Mr. Astor smiled, stroking Philly’s back and wondering about poignant things. “Ah! Let me walk you for the last time," he said softly.

Philly looked at him with his beautiful, chocolate eyes. He too sensed that there was something different about that morning. His wagging tail dropped. He seemed to have understood his frail words.

The old man fumbled for his glasses in his pocket, beckoned Philly and kept thinking about the peculiar dream he had seen the night before – A place lit up with a silvery glowing light, a flight of stairs rising up to Heaven, and God’s silver robes gliding over his face.... 

He seemed lost in his trance, when Philly butted his hand with his wet nose. He turned around to see his dear son standing before him, the brown leash in his mouth. The old man smirked, saying, “Good boy”.

Tying the leash around his neck and holding on to the other end, he walked out of his cottage. Treading few steps, he glanced back at the abode. It had been a barn earlier before his grandfather had renovated it to suffice for an additional yet necessary venture. Their old home had been destroyed when his father was still a baby. It might have been through nature’s wrath or his grandparents might have faced financial issues forcing them to take such a drastic step - so many details....he could not remember it clearly.

Tears came flowing down his eyes. Quickly brushing away his unexpected saccharinity, he strolled into the distance with Philly leading him… .

It was almost midday.

Everyone had already woken up. The newspaper boys had completed delivering the daily bulletins at everyone’s houses, people had already started for their offices or had picked the grocery items or been busy for personal reasons.

A newspaper boy was returning through the same pathway just like his usual routine. Suddenly he halted his bike in front of Mr. Astor’s cottage. 

“This is unusual”, he thought, “he never leaves his papers out for so long!”

He got off his bike. 

Everyone in that neighbourhood knew that the old man had not been keeping well since the last few days.

The boy walked up to the dog flap and tried to throw the newspapers inside. In that instance, something caught his eye. Was something moving inside the darkness? Or, was he wrong? 

Known for his excellent reflexes, the boy, with one fierce punch broke the glass of the window. His knuckles bled a little. Ignoring that, he quickly opened the latch of the window pane and crawled inside, taking care of the broken glass beneath his feet. 

As he finally stood on his ground and looked around, it was black everywhere. This darkness was impenetrable as ever!

The old man felt like whistling, he felt like tapping his feet. There was indeed something different about that day.

Imagining an old song from his youth, he went on humming the tune, swaying his hands to the beat. He had accidentally almost throttled Philly. Philly had yelped and put his tail between his legs. Getting the cue, the old man lifted up Philly in his arms.

Well, he didn’t feel like he was old anymore. His spirit was full of revived vigour. His arms held the large dog, who, just like his father, had turned calm and composed. 

Both of them looked at the setting sun of the evening, it’s glow reflecting in their eyes.

 The boy took out his handkerchief and bound them round his knuckles to stem the bleeding. He was rather tall for his age. The ceiling of the mezzanine floor grazed his head as he walked in relying only on his senses. Crouching his head, he lit a match and listened keenly. Yes, yes! He could distinctly hear a low howling sound..a cry maybe!

Where was it coming from? Um, from one end of the small bedroom may be. 

The boy lit several matchsticks together and stepped inside the room. The fire of the matchsticks spread light throughout and in that light he saw the most horrifying sight!

There lay the old man, lying on his bed, clutching his dog, Philly’s body to his chest.

 The boy rushed to his side and grabbed his wrist. As soon as his fingers touched the thin hand, Philly slipped out of the old man’s arms and fell with a thud on the floor. The boy checked him for pulse. No, they both were dead.

The last rites were performed by the boy and few old people of the neighbourhood who were sympathetic. One whispered to the other, “Great man, Astor. Never went into scuffles or arguments with anyone.”

“Well he was”, remarked one, “But I heard his wife had died due to some illness. After that he never married but he had a dog. Tragic.”

“Yeah, he seemed weak. What was that dog’s name again? Wait, wait. Was it Philleno or Phillane?”

One thoughtfully said, “No, it was Phillipe.”

“Yes! Yes! It’s good that at least he died with his dog by his side,” remarked the other neighbour.

These people were right in almost every aspect. The old man had departed this harsh world and gone to a place with eternal sunshine.

Opening his eyes, the old man looked all around him. Where had he come, strolling endlessly?

 “Philly!” he nervously called out… “Philly, where are….,” he paused. 

A serene smile lit up his face. He recognised the place.. It had come in his dreams – silvery glowing light, gigantic stairs going high up....

He stood spellbound. And there he was, his beloved son, Philly. How he missed him! Philly came sprinting towards his open arms, his eyes glistening with joy, wagging his tail so much that it would not stop. He leaped on to Astor’s arms. 

The old man cried with joy, hugging Philly. His dear friend had joined him in eternity.

Suddenly, a deep voice greeted them. “Astor, my child.”

The old man turned around. It was indeed heavenly. With teary eyes and exuberant hearts, they went on to meet their Maker.