Life

Once upon a time there lived an old dog near an old run down clinic ward. Every day the dog would enter the clinic and lay on the bed of the patient that was of poorest health. The nurses and doctors saw no harm in this since the patients did not seem to mind. It did not take long for people at the ward to notice that whoever the dog chose to lay by seemed to, as by magic, be able to fight off their illness and be restored to full health. It did not seem to matter how terminal the illness of the patient was, if the old dog chose to lay on someone’s bed or by their bedside they got all better. Rumours of this magic healing dog spread all across the land and people were queuing to get a place at the run down clinic ward with hopes of the healing dog curing them of their particular illness. The dog did not seem to mind the hubbub which it had caused and it also did not seem to hear the becks and calls of the patients as they tried desperately to get the dog to come to their beds so that they may become cured of their ailments. The old dog simply seemed to lie where ever he wanted without heeding the begging and pleading of the wards inhabitants. But one day the old dog did not show and no one knew where he had gone; days passed and still no sign of the old dog. Days turned in to months and months turned into seasons but no one ever saw the dog again. Everything soon went back to normal at the ward, patients lived and some died. Nurses and doctors came and went and soon even the magic dog was forgotten. But what happened to the magic old dog? Well, outside the ward lay the remains of an old forgotten shed, in which the ward's gardener used to store his tools, but nowadays the shed sees little use since the clinic could not afford to keep the gardener employed. Inside of the shed the old dog laid, his breathing heavy, his tongue hanging out and his nose all dry and warm. The old dog had made the shed his home long ago, when the gardener had still stored his tools there. But now it was abandoned and the old dog was lonely and sick. He remembered fondly how the people in the clinic had patted him and hugged him. He remembered the gentle stroking of his thick unruly fur as he lay on the warm sheets of patients’ beds. But now when he needed help there was no magic old dog to lay with him in his shed, for it seems that the old dog was the only magic dog in the land. As the old dog took a last breath his vision became blurry and memories of his past life came rushing back to him forming a confusing mixture of colours and events, colours being black and white to a dog, and the old dog wished for someone to do as he had done. He wished for someone to lay by his side, not to cure him, but to hold his paw as the last traces of his sentience left his body. But there was no one, no magic dog but the old dog, and so it was the old dog slipped away alone and unnoticed in the dark abandoned shed, near the run down clinic ward.