NEW BEST FRIEND
by
Alan A Sandercott

            The body of ‘ol John Simpson broke the lake’s rough surface at exactly 10:15 pm. I know that because I was one of the spectators standing shivering on the shore. It had been raining most of the evening and the accompanying winds persisted. Everyone in the area knew that ‘ol John and I were best of friends so it was no surprise that I was one of the first to be called.

            The lifeless body bobbing in the waves lay face down. The life jacket John used as a seat cushion was probably still out there where he had been fishing. Ironically, several large treble fishing hooks held his body fast to the rusty steel pipe a few feet away, the same pipe that was attached by rope to the police boat. They had been dragging the lake back and forth for several hours, ever since a neighbour had reported John’s boat washing up on shore in the wind. The boat was now tied to the shore, half submerged.

            A large dog that I recognized as John’s was sniffing around the boat. From the way it was whining it was obviously confused and very worried about its master. There was a good chance that Shadow, as John called her, had been laying at the end of the dock when the accident happened. Years earlier Shadow always went out in the boat when John went fishing but, like us, she was getting older and rheumatism prevented her from getting around.

            It was after midnight before I got home that night. I lived just a few miles down the lake from John. We had been good friends for a long time, a couple of old bachelors burning off life’s remaining years. I didn’t sleep that night, just sat out on the front porch staring off across the moonlit lake. The mournful call of a loon only saddened me more. I was feeling all alone while trying to convince myself that my best friend was really gone.

            Around ten the next morning a police car pulled up to the cabin. A young cop got out and opened the car’s rear door. I could see the end of a piece of rope in his hand, and then I saw what was tied to the other end; Shadow. John may have been my best friend but his dog certainly was not! I could never figure out what John saw in that animal. As far as I was concerned it was nothing but a pain in the ass. She was always hungry, always crapping around the yard and she smelled, especially when she was wet. She was always laying around the house, on the furniture, leaving hair all over the place. So what was the cop doing bringing the dog to my place?

            It tuned out John had often mentioned to his daughter that should anything ever happen to him he wanted Shadow given to me. He obviously didn’t know how I felt about his faithful dog. I never told him because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Well something happened and suddenly I had an unwelcome fifty pound furry guest. I kept hoping that if John was up there, he wouldn’t be reading my thoughts right about then.

            I figured I’d lock the mutt in the woodshed for the night. It seemed like a good idea, until she started barking, howling and whining around two in the morning. I spent most of that night with my head buried under my pillow. A sleep starved neighbour reminded me that the dog was lonely for her master and that she needed someone to console her, not lock up. The neighbour declined my offer so I had to go to plan ‘B’.

            Weeks past and Shadow settled down. She started eating again, thanks to the big bag of her dog food the cop left. She seemed happier sleeping on the mat inside the cabin door. For the first week or so she spent hours laying at the end of the driveway waiting for John to come and get her. Then she slowly shifted her attention to me and I tried to adjust to being followed around all day. I kept putting off a call to John’s daughter about taking Shadow. I figured she would be having a tough time adjusting to John’s death, I know I was; I missed our daily phone calls checking up on each other.

            I’m not sure when it started but I began to notice myself talking to the dog, like she was a person. Stranger yet was the fact that she seemed to listen to me, like she understood what I was saying. Like it or not, we appeared to be bonding. I was becoming more and more aware of her presence. It was actually making me feel better, like I wasn’t alone after all.

            The real test was our first winter together in the cabin. If she was still the smelly thing I remembered her to be, I wasn’t noticing it. Her hair all over everything bothered me but regular brushing seemed to help. We walked every day and she enjoyed our ice fishing episodes. I tried to teach her to fetch in firewood, but that was in vain. On the bright side, nothing or no one approached the cabin without her warning barks. Turned out that was the first winter in many years that I didn’t suffer from cabin fever.

            Spring came, then summer, and before long it was a year since John Simpson had drowned. Both Shadow and I had made the difficult transition. I’ve now come to know what John saw in her. Shadow has become my constant companion and I like to think of her as my new best friend.