_Seal Dog
An old woman stared out to the sea. Her eyes constantly searching for small city tucked away amongst the deep hills, the tops of which were just visible across the wide expanse of water. The dawn’s chill crept into her bones, but she searched steadfastly until just as the sun peeped its bald head above the horizon. Gulls took off into the air and gave out loud squaks. It was time for her to go.
She slowly climbed the hill up to the village where she lived and worked. The blanket that she used as a coat, slipped off her shoulders and she had to stop and adjust it many times. At the top of the hill waited her little dog. It wasn’t her dog, really. It was a stray she treated kindly and fed scraps.
“We are both old stray dogs,” the old woman often told him. As the woman passed the little dog, he turned and followed her.
The old woman was very poor. Old enough to have stopped working many years before, she could not afford to. She might be able to live off of begging and the kindness of a few old friends, but she had a dream. This was not her native village. She grew up in the city across the waves and more than anything, she longed to visit the place once again and to see the grand spring festival.
She had moved to this tiny village when she married, but her husband had long ago died leaving her with a small run-down house and no family.
Near the end of the short main street, lived and worked the baker. It was for this place that the old woman headed in the early morning hours. The baker was a kind man and took pity on the poor old woman. He paid her to wash the pans and keep the kitchens neat, but her knarled old hands and stiff old legs meant she worked very slow. He could have any of his children do the same work in a quarter of the time. But the old woman worked very hard and did a good job, so he paid her a modest amount, all he could afford, and made sure she had her pick of the day old bread.
[Read the whole story by downloading the PDF below]
An old woman stared out to the sea. Her eyes constantly searching for small city tucked away amongst the deep hills, the tops of which were just visible across the wide expanse of water. The dawn’s chill crept into her bones, but she searched steadfastly until just as the sun peeped its bald head above the horizon. Gulls took off into the air and gave out loud squaks. It was time for her to go.
She slowly climbed the hill up to the village where she lived and worked. The blanket that she used as a coat, slipped off her shoulders and she had to stop and adjust it many times. At the top of the hill waited her little dog. It wasn’t her dog, really. It was a stray she treated kindly and fed scraps.
“We are both old stray dogs,” the old woman often told him. As the woman passed the little dog, he turned and followed her.
The old woman was very poor. Old enough to have stopped working many years before, she could not afford to. She might be able to live off of begging and the kindness of a few old friends, but she had a dream. This was not her native village. She grew up in the city across the waves and more than anything, she longed to visit the place once again and to see the grand spring festival.
She had moved to this tiny village when she married, but her husband had long ago died leaving her with a small run-down house and no family.
Near the end of the short main street, lived and worked the baker. It was for this place that the old woman headed in the early morning hours. The baker was a kind man and took pity on the poor old woman. He paid her to wash the pans and keep the kitchens neat, but her knarled old hands and stiff old legs meant she worked very slow. He could have any of his children do the same work in a quarter of the time. But the old woman worked very hard and did a good job, so he paid her a modest amount, all he could afford, and made sure she had her pick of the day old bread.
[Read the whole story by downloading the PDF below]
seal_dog.pdf | |
File Size: | 51 kb |
File Type: |