The Legendary Companion

  The old man examined his withered hand as though he did not recognize it as his own. Twisting the worn, golden ring around his calloused knuckled finger, twigged a memory of a bright spring day when he married his young bride.  Then his mind went further back to a farmhouse on a hill. The years of time lay heaped and jumbled in his mind like an overflowing box of toys. He dug further until, near the bottom of the box, he retrieved the memory of a Collie dog. The dog surfaced through his congested thoughts because it was such a common element in his life. He rarely spent a moment without this faithful companion. The dirty thirties appeared on his mental screen, but to a kid they were simply known as the lean years. His Mama, who could stretch a meal out of a morsel, stood near the wood stove making delicious soup to feed her family of nine. Even their Collie, Teddy, had enough scraps to survive. Ah yes, Teddy! 

The legendary farm dog loved them all, but he had attached himself particularly to the youngest member of the family, Lyndon. On the cold winter nights of Nova Scotia, the dog chose to sleep in Lyndon’s bed. He would circle before sliding down under the covers to the bottom of the bed. Presently, the old man slid his socked feet to bury them in the dirty, shag carpet beneath his chair imagining his fluffy dog and footwarmer of days past. Getting old breaks your internal thermometer and the elderly man now always placed a throw over his feet to keep them warm. He remembered when winter melted, and warmer days thawed both heavy hearts and apple blossoms. The spring promised a better growing season during a time when money was scarce but love and loyalty were abundant.

    There was also an abundance of hard work to be done on the farm, but the chores usually revolved around the schooling. School was enjoyed by everyone in the household-- that is-- except for Lyndon. The one room schoolteacher expected great things of Lyndon because his siblings had demonstrated such prowess in their studies, but somehow, he had missed the studious genes. He was ordinary and scholastically below average. The spelling bees were humiliating though and reading aloud led to tittering children and a flushed faced for Lyndon.  His only solace was when the bell rung at the end of the day. He would run toward home to the only one who utterly understood him.  And Teddy would be racing up the dirt road to greet him and accompany him home. None of the teacher’s expectations or the laughing children’s ridicule mattered, as the dog ran in circles around him with his tail thumping. Together they would walk along, and the troubles slid off Lyndon’s back onto the dusty trail. 

     Each day the dog’s tongue tickled his long slim fingers as if asking permission to go fishing. Since Lyndon’s milking chores gave him a few hours free after school, he exchanged his books for a pole in the back corner of the barn and scooped up the can of wiggling worms from the old stump. Off they headed into the woods toward the river. They could hear the rushing water and watch the sun stream through kissing the trees into bud. It was truly magnificent! He had spent many springs with his dog going to the same fishing spot surrounded by the sounds of nature and it soothed their souls. Side by side they sat on the shore letting all the troubles pass them by.  Zee, plop, and splash. These were the sounds that preceded the dropping of small fish into the old bucket. Time passed slowly and yet fairly flew by.  But on this particular day, Teddy’s ears picked up as he heard a different sound that didn’t belong in their special corner of the woods.

   “Did you get it all?”, the older man’s voice snapped at the younger one. 

    “Yes, but I didn’t like pushing that old woman down. She was near the stove and all, and what if I killed her?” 

    “You didn’t kill her. Now, did you get the two cans of coins behind the stove? I’ve watched them for weeks through the windows counting it at night. I know that is where they hide their money.”

    The young man set the cans down and was about to open the tiny burlap bags within, not realizing that he had watchers only a few feet away. Lyndon’s eyes grew wide. He realized just what they were talking about and it was his family’s money.  That was the only money his parents had from the meager crops that they had sold last fall. It was meant to last them until they could grow more crops this season.   The cows brought in a small income but most of the milk was used by their own family or neighboring families in exchange for wool or other items. 

Teddy’s low growl alerted the men that they were not alone. Lyndon was a fighter at school. It was the one thing that he did better than his brothers.  How could he just sit there and let the men take all that their family had to survive on.    He leapt up over the bucket of small fish and threw himself at the cans, but the bearded man grabbed him. Fists went flying and then, at that moment, recognition flashed between the young man and Lyndon. The younger man was a student at school who rarely showed up. The last time Lyndon had remembered seeing him was the day Lyndon’s older sister won the spelling against him by proudly spelling the word ‘e- m-b-a-r-r-a-s-s-e-d’.  The young man before him didn’t know which letters were doubled. Lyndon remembered a look passing between them back then—a shared comradery over public humiliation.

    The older man grabbed again for Lyndon.

   “Stop, Dad.  That’s the MacBain boy.”

  The father disregarded his son’s words as Lyndon continued kicking. The dog joined the fray barking furiously at both men. Lyndon swung and his fist connected with the tall man’s jaw, but the man furiously shoved Lyndon away. Yet Lyndon was determined to claim the family’s property, so he kept coming. Meanwhile, the son was reaching for the bag of money and Teddy seemed to know that protecting this bag was as important as saving Lyndon. So, he snapped and bit the leg of the gangly teen getting between the money and the young man. 

   “Come on Dad.  Leave him.  We don’t want to get caught and my leg is bleeding,” he blurted out the words as he stumbled to the ground.    Teddy took the opportunity to grab one of the bags and disappeared.  There was a small hole that the resourceful companion dug earlier that spring where they could put the fish if Lyndon ever forgot the bucket. It was covered with leaves now, but he dropped the bag of coins into it and returned in a flash. 

   “I’m not leaving without that money!” shouted the man. 

    The words were barely out of his mouth when the dog lunged at him. The man pushed Lyndon away towards the river as he turned toward the dog, but the dog’s teeth sunk into his arm. The man’s son threw sticks at the dog from his position on the ground, but he was in no shape to help as blood was pouring through his workpants down his leg; and it was throbbing.  

    In a frenzied state, the man spun around to try to loosen the vice-like jaw when Lyndon attacked from the other side. Like a wild man, in one last burst of energy, he pushed Lyndon into the rapidly moving water. Teddy immediately let the man’s arm go. He had never seen Lyndon swim and the flailing boy’s arms alerted him of the trouble he was in. This river was not just a source of fish for the community, but it led along the channel to the mill’s waterwheel and Lyndon was headed straight for it.  Teddy ran along the shore barking wildly as if trying to tell Lyndon to dog paddle.  Searching as he bolted, the dog grabbed a branch with his teeth and jumped into the water ahead of Lyndon who was now spinning out of control in the icy water. The dog landed with a huge splash which drew Lyndon’s eyes to his lifeline. He grabbed the long tree branch as the dog swam toward the more measured current of the river’s far side.  By this time, Lyndon’s head was bobbing, but he clung to the stick. The dead weight on the other end threatened to drown them both. Then the pole caught between two rocks and bent as though it would break. It seemed that all would be lost. The log creaked and groaned but the dog paddled strong and the stick held. Lyndon sopping and breathless pulled hand over hand until he reached the rock in the middle of the river. He pulled himself out of the water where he held fast to the slippery rock exhausted. Letting go, Teddy dragged himself to shore. Lyndon was drenched and alone on the rock but safe for the moment.  The rescue was not complete. Lyndon watched as his rescuer ran back along the shore toward the shortest part of the river and jumped back in to swim across. Lyndon lay panting but hopeful that his dog would return with help. 

    At the end of the escapade, the can that the thieves ran away with contained only a few seeds for planting.  The bag of money was safely retrieved later by his legendary companion, Teddy.  Lyndon’s mother was startled and bruised but safe. The recovering Lyndon was wrapped in a blanket and stood shivering near the old hot stove.  And Teddy snuggled as close to the wood stove as possible alongside him. That was a day to remember. But the memory slowly dimmed as the old man looked past the ancient picture frame containing his mother, father, siblings, and Teddy, then onto the fishbowl on the coffee table.   The bowl was home to the fish, Bob, who was his companion now. 

  “Hello,” his daughter’s voice brought him back fully into the present.  “We are going out to a pet store today,” she stated and closed the door behind her.  She gently coaxed and guided him into the car. He seemed more tired than usual but all they needed was to purchase some fish food. 

    “Maybe you’d like to see puppies in the store,” she said.

    At the counter, his daughter turned to see where he was. He usually followed behind her because his pace was slow. But her father was not shuffling behind her. He was not peering through the windows at the young puppies. He was not near the fish supplies. Where was he? Panic set in.  Then she caught a glimpse of his old shoes just around the corner of the store’s aisle. He was slumped down on a tall stack of soft dog beds-- asleep. The owner and shoppers in the store smiled at the content man as he snored gently.