Old Duke
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"Old Duke"
by: Wes Robert Ward
They tell him the Master has died. Old Duke understands one only thing\u2026 he is here no more. Gone forevermore like long forgotten days of yore, never to grace upon through yonder front door with leather leash in hand and chew toy in another.
Old Duke rests his grey whiskered muzzle upon the chair his Master sat upon when he came home, day in day out, from working to feed old Duke and wife, who's widow now. He looks to her nearby in the kitchen at the table with coffee in hand and kleenex in another.
Quiet like a common mouse, she sits there with slightly hot coffee. In just a pink fluffy robe she just sits there with her head hung low and nothing else mattered at that moment in time as she just sat there with redness in her sorrowful eyes. They say the eyes tell a story\u2026 a story of good or bad, a story of worry or woe, a story of loss and love.
And suddenly, Old Duke realizes he's not the only one sadden for Master. What once was we was now her and me. Mother, he wonders\u2026 how will she go on without Master? Strong in soul, she is, spirit willing and bearing such burden, but many had told her forty odd years of love will never perish, not even in death. She cries at night, so alone in bed, crying he's dead he's dead. He knows for he sleeps on the floor beside the mighty oak and mattress.
Old Duke doesn't understand dead. What is dead? They tell him dead is death. What is death? They tell him death is extinction of life. Old Duke goes and lays down not knowing what the blue blazes they say. All he knows is Master is no more. Never to rub his belly nevermore.
Tears have shed from sofa to bed since Master left, from grave to home, to being all alone. Different now, happiness asunder. A blunder now like distant thunder. The rain and icey roads is the culprit that claimed his Master, they say, sad price to pay.
No more walkies with Master, no more hunting and bringing back dead birds. No more fetching paper and slippers. No more barking excitedly as he hears his Master pull into the driveway. Gray is the new dawn that shadows in the heart of the hound. No more sound, yet whimpers of a puppy lost in limbo.
Old Duke rests his head on his Master's chair whereupon he used to rest on his Master's knee. And yet\u2026 Master isn't entirely gone for Old Duke feels him scratch his head and whisper in the air, "That a boy."
Eyes glazed with simple sadness of a dog dreaming of Master returning. Looking up to see nothing but an empty chair. Air, his Master is, air, and nothing more. Yet, he's there though, nothing more than air.
He goes over soon after and rests his tired head on mother's knee. There she be, no air, alive and still there. Him and her, hince forth evermore, loyal to Master, loyal to Mother, together and always. Gazing upon her tearful face he wants to brighten her days. She scratches him on the head, smiles and says, "That a boy."
The End. \ud83d\udc15
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