#36

A very large dog approached a table on the bar’s patio where four friends sat drinking in the spring afternoon sun. Though it had a body like a black bear who had just come out of hibernation and a snout like a hairy crocodile, the dog seemed more human than animal as it gingerly sat itself down on its hind legs and let its big tired eyes move from person to person.

 “Sorry,” the dog’s owner said. “He’s very old and in pain, and it looks like he thought this was a good place to rest.” The four friends did not mind. They took turns petting the aged aching beast and marveled at a life well-lived. Slowly, the dog rose and teetered himself over to the table where his owners now sat. He sighed and laid his long head down on the gravel. The friends watched the grey underbelly lifting and lowering, so they knew he was still alive. But even if the dog were to die right there, they silently agreed, it would be a peaceful thing, a beautiful fact of life witnessed by loved ones new and old. And yet they were silly to think that just because a life has been long and is nearing its end, peace will be afforded to the elderly. They could only watch in horror as a child who had been given a toy truck to play with on the patio began driving it like a madman through the gravel, pushing it full speed ahead in the direction of the long arthritic tail of the dog. The dog yelped in pain and tried desperately to heave his body forward, but could not get his footing. It was a painful scene to watch, but an important one for four friends to witness together, now bonded by the cruelty of youth.