The Hunger

For days now he had hungered. His search took him along many an avenue, where his pleas were so harshly ignored. But his need was such he had to continue, so to all that he met he implored. Many turned him away with brusque impatience, what had he to offer them they all sneered. Still he searched with all true innocence, of the way he was evidently feared. Daringly he turned his gaze upon all, all those who walked the same paths, all those who he heard from over their wall, where they tended their gardens with care, ever hoping soon he might find that one, that one person who would freely share. His recent loss still burned in his heavy heart, all the devotion he had given and received had been beyond reproach from the very start. She had been the one and now alone he grieved. His thoughts turned to that day when he awoke, to find his companion gone but yet still there... No response came as usual to his gentle stroke, still and cold, so very cold as he proffered care. All that long day his hope lingered with them, until night fell and hope slid away numbed, tangibly wandering out into the dark and mean moon shadows cast behind their wind rattled shed. A sharp whistle seemed to bring him from his dream, it turned his head and stopped him still in his tracks. He shook his head twice hardly believing the scene, then ran swiftly towards his mistress now back! Joyous reunion after those last empty days filled both as they then embraced so lovingly, her hands no longer felt cold but her eyes, her eyes did seem a little pale and misty. The pair were soon jauntily walking back home to their ramshackle old potting shed. All the spiders would ask why did they roam, neither would answer as they settled to bed. Down the avenue none had noticed their sheer joy, none had seen them walk by in such evident glee. None had heard their footfalls or calls of good boy, but minutes after one lad saw what didn't flee... 'Hey Mum' he called into the kitchen, 'Come and look at this old dog over here.' 'There's nowt you can do for it Marvin, poor old thing - must have been a stray dear.' Back in the shed Good Boy and Mistress rested, peace was with them amidst peat and dead fern. Neither ever pined or wept again in their bed, the hunger was gone now, never more to return. ©Rhumour June 12th 2009