It was a warm, sunny day. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue. Clouds of pine pollen carried on soft winds appeared golden, like fairy dust. Ed sat on the porch, drinking his morning coffee, while Vincent, the hound, slept at his feet. Ed was a middle-aged man, with wild, curly black hair and a ruddy complexion. He drove a big semi truck, hauling seafood all over the south. He was tall and muscular, exuberant and fun.
Vincent was an old lanky, brown and white hound dog.
He loved Ed, following on his heels whenever he was home. Ed’s wife was small and prissy. She would shoo Vincent outside when Ed was gone, so he wouldn’t get dog hair all over the house. But when Ed was home, Vincent went wherever he wanted, sleeping on the furniture and drooling on the rug.
It was such a pleasant day, Ed decided he would go fishing in the river. So they loaded up in the old blue Fairlane and headed out. Vincent loved to ride, his head sticking out the window, ears flapping. Ed just talked away, telling Vincent all about his adventures on the road.
Every now and then, Vincent would look over at him and nod wisely. He understood, as most old dogs do.
When they got to the river, Ed set up his lawn chair and cooler and got his fishing pole ready. As he was doing so, he noticed an alligator lurking near the bank, halfway hidden in the reeds. So in a stern voice, he ordered Vincent to stay in the car, as alligators are very fond of dog meat. Vincent dropped his head and whined a bit. Then he sat looking longingly out the window at Ed. Ed turned to him and said in a kinder voice “Be a good dog now and do what I say.”
In a little while, he caught a few nice sized bream and one stumpknocker, which he threw back. Then, he heard the alligator lunge at something, then swim off. Ed looked back at the car, but did not see Vincent hanging out the window like he always did. In a panic, he began looking all around for his dog, but did not find him. He was so distraught, he threw his stuff in the trunk and headed home. By now, he was sure the alligator had taken Vincent.
Once there, he grabbed his whiskey bottle from under the porch and sat down on the steps to grieve. His wife felt sorry for him and didn’t fuss one bit about the whiskey.
“He really was a good dog,” she said consolingly.
“When I saw that alligator, I should have turned around and come home,” Ed sobbed.
In the meantime, Vincent woke up from his nap on the floorboard of the back seat. When he heard them talking, he yawned and sat up. He poked his head out the window and waited, like the good dog he was.
