A Boy and His Dog

My friend Steve and his wife moved to the coast, they bought a house only two blocks from the beach. It was in one of those little towns that exist somewhat out of the way like most of the truly beautiful places. We had been friends for a number of years; I met Steve when I started work. It was my first job and Steve was to be my first boss, although things didn’t start well between us,  they turned out okay. We became close friends, actually; the type of friend you never forget in spite of distance and time, we were mates, a very good word that.

The girls seemed to hit it off as well, perhaps at first because they knew Steve and I were good friends, but they did like each other. We became one of those small groups you might see around town, always together, laughing and having a good time. Dinner parties at each other’s homes were a frequent occurrence. Karen, Steve’s wife was a good cook, it turned out I wasn’t too bad either, Steve could eat, and my wife was a good dish washer. I always looked forward to those weekend meetings. When one of us had to be away and we didn’t get together, the time seemed to drag.

Laughter was easy in our little group; Steve couldn’t say anything without putting a comic spin on it. Both he and I enjoyed seeing the funny in life, it’s always there you just have to look from the right angle. You see, Steve always was and always will be a boy at heart. Not a clown, but more a “Tom Sawyer” character, if you don’t know what that means, you don’t know how much fun painting a fence with friends can be.

Steve married Karen, I married Sally and had things stayed as they were, it might have been one of those “Happily Ever After” stories. But things didn’t and to some extent, it wasn’t. We were friends who thought alike and enjoyed life in each other’s company, but life moves on, so do people and relationships.

There comes a time when mates, now also husbands with wives, start looking to the future. Thinking about buying houses and having children made us take work more seriously. Lifting our ambitions beyond tickets to the next rock concert, both Steve and I raised our gazes toward the promotional ladder in our respective careers.

Steve’s company needed a manager for one of their branches, Steve was qualified and promoted. This led to my friend Steve and his wife moving to the coast. It was a small town in the territory we both covered in our sales trips. The Bay, was beautiful, small enough for everyone who lived there to know each other, but big enough to cater for a summer tourist trade. They bought a new house, in fact they had it built and, within their budget the way they wanted it built. My wife and I visited a few times, especially when I managed to take her on a sales trip with me. It was always great to see them. During one visit Karen introduced me to vegetables au gratin, bless her. I might be overweight but I’m full of those vitamin Es’.

My wife and I missed the usual Friday night dinners with them but we still had other friends near us. For Steve and Karen it was harder, both their families, as well as all their friends were now five hours drive away. They made new friends though, and always had plenty of visitors, one of the blessings/curses of living in a coastal vacation area. For Steve, there was another friendship coming his way.

Rex was one of those dogs you have to look closely at to place ancestry, a little of this and that. I would guess a Setter and Labrador, maybe. Long red coat and slim build, with plenty of tail action, his energy was impressive. Only visiting occasionally, it appeared to me that Rex had arrived fully grown, but Steve had raised him from a pup and certainly loved him. They were inseparable when Steve was home. They liked walks, and played the usual human-dog games on the beach. I’m told Steve even took him to watch the game when playing rugby on the weekends.

One of Steve’s favourite rituals was the after work visit to the local pub, this was easy for him, it was just down the street. Rex would of course go as well, sitting at the masters feet, as Steve had a few with the other locals, discussing the football and fishing. All the locals knew Rex; during the day when Steve was working Rex would walk around town saying hello to everyone. I’m sure he had a habit of visiting each local in turn at the same time each day, I’ve read of dogs doing that. Karen mentioned that people would often tell her about Rex’s regular wanderings, “I saw Rex down at the Wharf earlier; he was chewing a bone”.

As in every town, The Bay had its share of local characters; one in particular played a part in the lives of Rex and Steve. Cob wasn’t his real name but that’s what everyone called him. He owned the Surf Board and Boat rental place on the beach. He always seemed to wear the same clothes every day. Straw hat, loose fitting cotton shirt, shorts and leather sandals, a beachwear enthusiast, I think he was dressing the part of beach bum, both a beard and pipe was a given.

Cob was on the beach every day, when it rained he could keep an eye on his boards from the pubs veranda. Even on a sunny day, if no one was renting, you could find him there. Feet up on the railing, he would leisurely look out over the ocean, the reason for his perpetual smile was obvious.

When Rex finished his daily rounds of the village, he would spend some time with Cob until Steve got home. They were pretty much alike, Rex and Cob, free, happy, contented, neither needed to go anywhere anytime soon. It was the fact that Cob was always there, not having to spend time “working” as Steve did, which caused the problem.

Gradually, Rex started spending more and more of his time with Cob. Steve would come home and, not finding Rex waiting, go to the pub by himself. In would walk Cob, Rex following. At first Steve laughed with the locals, when comments were made about Rex preferring Cob to himself, but all knew he was hurt by the situation. The day finally came when Rex didn’t come home at all, that night he went home with Cob.

Rex had made his choice. Steve and Cob did remain friends, at least on the surface. But Steve’s hurt look when they walked into the pub said it all; part of the boy in him had gone forever.

I’m not sure that all the “Lost Dog” signs we see in store windows tell the full story, you might want to read between the lines sometimes.

Over the years Sally and I lost touch with Steve and Karen, that’s sad. Friends moving away are one thing, but when your dog leaves you, well, that’s something else.

JAWhite                           “Chillin” Photo Courtesy Jim Simandi Flickr Photo
December 2009                    “Friends” Photo courtesy Issac Joo Chang Stock_xchng