Marshall Ramsey

The crisp fall-like air wrapped its arms around him, hugging him as he pulled his bike over to watch the sunrise.  The sound of the wind whistling past his head and the puff of his breathe went quiet.  He stopped. The only sound he could hear was the lapping of water against the shoreline.  It reminded him of a cat drinking milk.  He pulled  off the Natchez Trace Parkway — no sense getting hit by a rusty Camaro, he thought.  He then took a drink from his water bottle and pulled a peanut butter sandwich out of his jersey pocket. It was time for the daily main event.

The dark purple of the sky started to lose its daily tug-of-war with the dawn. Purple gave way to red and then gave way to orange which gave way to hints of yellow.  The water must have approved ; it copied the sunrise’s colors on its inky surface.  A slight breeze greeted him — the breeze was the sunrise’s advance guard.

He looked out into the water for his old friend.  And there he was, like clockwork, waiting.  Judging by the size of his head, the alligator must have been ten feet long.  The bike rider did not know for sure, but that was OK.  He had a deal with the gator: The rider stayed on the land. And the gator stayed in the water.  But he was there. Everyday. Reminding the rider that death was close at hand. He reached under his bright yellow jersey and felt his cancer scar.  It was a scar worthy of an alligator bite.  The rider saluted the gator who just floated there, staring.

The orange ball rose slowly above the far shoreline.  Like the alligator, it was the cyclist’s reminder of the miracle of the day. A fresh start. A new chance.  The light illuminated the alligator’s massive head. Life and death greeted each other there in the Ross Barnett Reservoir.  And that’s why the cyclist stopped here each morning.  To remind him of how precious life really was.  He smiled, finished his sandwich and continued to peddle his way north.  He had miles to travel. He had a life to live.

The alligator watched his breakfast ride away.  Maybe tomorrow, he thought with his pea brain. Maybe tomorrow.

It was the biggest of big box stores.  People scurried around like ants from a kicked-over anthill. There is a certain urgency when you search for stuff in bulk.  The man headed down the aisle and toward the floral department.  He was looking for some cut flowers for his wife.  It was his Friday afternoon mission.

“Hey buddy, you in the dog house?” the man in the Talledega T-shirt and Alabama ball cap snickered.  The man holding the flowers looked at him and just said, “Worse.”  The T-shirt man laughed and walked toward the food section in search of a 50-gallon drum of syrup and joked, “Good luck with that, buddy!”

He took the flowers up to the front and the cashier who smiled and said, “You’re a good man. That’s how you take care of a woman.  Yup — buy her flowers just because.”  The man handed her his debit card and said, “Yes, I am taking care of my wife. And I’m buying them ‘just because.'” The lady smiled and handed him his receipt. “Good luck with that!”

He handed the man with the marker his receipt and then headed to his car. He carefully laid the flowers on the front seat and started it.  He drove to where he always drove on a Friday afternoon.

He parked his car on the side of the road, grabbed the flowers and walked out into the field.  The wind  blew across the grass and whispered through the pines. He stopped, kneeled and carefully placed them on his wife’s grave.  “I met a man who thought I bought these flowers because I was in the dog house. I wish I was. I really do. Where I am is much worse. And then I met a lady who thought I was trying to take care of my wife. Well, in a way, I am. But I wish I had done a better job of  taking care of you before the cancer.  I miss you.  And I love you. I’ll see you next week.”

The husband understood how precious life was and that like cut flowers, it didn’t last forever.  He picked up the old flowers off his wife’s grave and walked back to his waiting car. Just like he did every Friday.

The boy’s dad sat the puppy in front of his son for the first time. “Train him well,” the dad said. The puppy and the boy looked at each other.  They were friends at first sight.

They became like two pieces of Velcro: They could be separated but there was going to be a lot of noise.  The boy’s mom would laugh when she saw the puppy sleeping on the boy’s head at night.

They were together 24/7 except for when the boy went to school or church.  When the boy walked through the door, there was an explosion of joy.  It was the first lesson the boy taught the boy: Exhibit honest excitement when you see the person you love. The puppy’s love would have made anyone feel like they were the most important person in the world.

As the years passed, the puppy became a dog and the boy became a teenager.  The teenager would take his dog everywhere with him. He sat in the front seat of his truck and they’d go out in the country. The dog would chase rabbits and would swim in the lake with the boy when his friends went waterskiing.  The boy would walk him and give him treats. The dog would get his belly rubbed. They were the best years of his life.

Then one day, the boy went to college.  As the truck drove away, the dog realized he had been left behind. He laid at the door every day, hoping the boy would walk back through it. He didn’t.  The dog would just lay there and wait.

But as the leaves fell off the trees and the air started to get cool, the familiar truck pulled back into the driveway. As the door opened, the dog exploded with glee.  The boy dropped to his knee to greet his best friend. Never had a dog’s heart been filled with more joy.

Four years passed and the dog got four years slower.  Arthritis attacked his joints.  Cataracts fogged his eyes. But his heart beat as strong for the boy as ever.  And his boy felt the same way.  One day the boy came home from college with a piece of paper and a girl. He had graduated and become a man. And with him was the woman who he had asked to be his wife.  The dog really couldn’t see her but because she loved his boy,  he loved her too.

One night, as the dog struggled to breathe, the man picked him up and put him in his lap.  He stroked the dog’s velvety ears and looked at his old friend’s gray face. He then said with moist eyes, “my old friend, I thank you for teaching me everything I know. You taught me to always be loyal. To protect those who I love. And you taught me the art of  greeting people like they are the most important person in the world. You taught me to enjoy the simple things in life, too.  You taught me how to be a friend.  And I’ve been blessed to call you one.”

The boy had taught the dog to sit. The dog lifted his head and weakly wagged his tail. And the dog had taught the boy to love.  He knew had trained his boy well.

Never had he been happier.

The dog passed away a year after the wedding. He was carefully wrapped in his favorite blanket and buried in a place of honor in the backyard.  Soon afterward, the man and woman had a son of their own. And when he was old enough, they got him a puppy, too.  As the man sat the puppy in front of his son he said these words from his heart, “Train him well. Both of you.”

The puppy and the boy looked at each other. It was friendship at first sight.