Under My Coat
Today, I found myself trudging home, heavy with gloom. The doctors words at the hospital still echoed in my headstraightforward and unkind, but honest. Theres nothing to be done, sir. Take some vitamins if you like. But what do you expect at your age? How old are you now, Mr. David Thompson?
Seventy-five. I remember perfectly well. The doctor wasnt wrong, really, just blunt. Seventy-five is a fair innings. Time to step aside, let others have their turn. No point in demanding the impossible
I wasnt just oldI was a poor pensioner too. My pension was meagre, every penny going to pay for the single room I rented in a draughty house. My daughter had sold our flat years ago; she needed the money desperately. She promised shed sort me out with another place, even just a room, but it hadnt happened. There was always some expense, some difficulty she had to face. Overseas everything seems so expensive, not like home, where even an old fellow can scrape by on a small pension.
Almost stumbled over a puppy, I didright in the middle of the pavement. Sat there alone, watching me with soft golden eyes. The air was nippy already, and this little grey creature was shivering something fierce.
I thought Id leave him be, but the pup started stumbling after me, barely able to keep up. So small, those gold eyes hopeful.
I muttered, Where would I take you anyway, lad? Im an old manseventy-five. My pensions tiny. The rooms a squeeze and not even mine. Im ill enough as it is; got little life left myself. Where can I take you? Still, I picked him up and tucked him under my coat.
Suddenly, he was warmand so was I.
We went home together, to my little rented room in the boarding house where nobody cared who you were or what you brought along. I shared my supper; gave him a bit of soup and a crust of bread. My own appetite returned at last!
Later on, I cleaned his puddle off the floor. Then we curled up together on my battered sofa. Before sleep took us, I told the pup his new name was Oliversounded strong and proper to me. Dont expect guarantees from an old sick chap like me, Oliver, I told him. Cant even promise Ill wake in the morning
But you know what? Oliver grew into a small, comical companionand lived almost twenty years! Me, I lasted just as long, side by side.
Life turned better. Rather than mope about illness and age, I now worried about what Oliver would eat. I rang up an old friend, who offered me a quiet gig editing articles. Not much, but enough sterling trickled in. My daughter eventually did come through; she bought the room outright so I could finally call it mine.
And Oliver needed walks. At first, I had to force myself out to the park, to the dog run. Soon, I got used to it and got to know the other ownersgood folk, always up for a natter.
No one can say how long life goes on. No one knows for sure.
But Oliver and I managed nearly twenty years together.
Sometimes you think trouble and age fill up your life, and theres so little money and time left. But maybe that isnt the case at all. Life is brief, no doubt. But kindness stretches it out, enriches it, and gives it real meaning. Even when you sense youre running out of time, it pays to do a good deed. Thats the greatest lesson of all.
