Our true friend for life

Our true friends for life

It hadn’t stopped raining all day. I was wet, cold, and alone. I wandered the streets aimlessly, looking for a place where I might shelter from the downpour and find a corner to sleep. At that moment, I saw old, blind George on the opposite side of the street, led by his guide dog. The rain was coming down hard. They didn’t even notice me. As I passed, I wondered what life meant for them. Old George lived in perpetual darkness and could only see things through conversations with others. Living in a dark world must feel cold, lonely, and frustrating. I imagined that even if he had developed his other senses, like touch and smell, the inability to see objects must be disconcerting. Then my thoughts turned toward his dog. A life of duty. A guide dog trained from birth under a serious, disciplined regime—probably well looked after by their trainers. Then the day came when they were allotted their dutiful role in life. In this case, from the way they moved together and the gentle pat George gave his head I could tell he loved his dog and took good care of him.

I struggled on. I finally found a small tunnel supporting an overhead railway line. Against one wall was a ruined cardboard box. I shook myself to release some of the rainwater from my body. The water made a little puddle at my feet. At first, I sat on what remained of the cardboard box. I was exhausted. Seconds later, my body hit the floor, and I fell into a profound sleep full of dreams. The spark that started the dream process was my craving for food. I had not eaten for two days. This made me think about my life when food was plentiful.

I vaguely remember the moment I was born. I was taken directly from my mother’s litter of puppies and thrust into the bosom of a large woman who had a particular smell. There was no demonstration of kisses and tears. My mother no longer existed. Her replacement petted me and fed me warm milk from a bottle connected to a nipple I could suck. I soon found out I had been adopted, and this peculiar-smelling woman was now my mother. In some odd way, I didn’t even miss my birth mother, as I'd had no time to enjoy her warmth and distinctive scent. My adopted mother was a large woman who bathed and perfumed herself daily. She was kind and always made a show of kissing and petting me. In what I later found out was my permanent home, there was always plenty of food available. She lived by herself in a large house surrounded by an extensive garden. Life was very pleasant. A doctor came every six months to check on my health. Occasionally, my mother took me shopping and out for walks.

I soon understood there was an exciting world out there beyond the walls and hedges of our garden—a world full of different noises, people, and smells. I also realized many dangers lurked in the shadows of the streets: cars, lorries, buses, and also a few animals that wished me harm. I decided I had a charmed life staying close to my adopted mother, regardless of my dislike for her perfume. She had an only son who occasionally came to visit. He was a brutal man who seemed to have little respect for anybody or anything, particularly his mother. When he found out his mother had adopted me, his visits tailed off until they practically ceased to exist. I learned he had a farm some fifty miles away. I was not surprised he smelled of animals.

Then, my pleasant life changed when my adopted mother died. I had lived with her for seven years. Gone was the warmth of being adored, being well fed, and having the freedom of the garden; though her perfume I won’t miss. I was sent to her son’s farm. He believed dogs should work to merit their food. Dogs should never be allowed in the farmhouse. Dogs should be obedient—if not, they were beaten. My life had dramatically changed. I got shouted at and beaten many times. My only consolation was that I made some good friends with the other animals who suffered from the same treatment. After two years of living in constant fear, I decided to run away. I had bouts of fear and anxiety because I had never fended for myself. But one morning at dawn, I made a dash for it and ran through a big field in the direction of the town. I had an incredible feeling of freedom. I spent a week in the country before I reached the town. During those days, I was fine, amazed by the food I found that had been thrown away at various farms and villages. I was particularly careful when rummaging for food in farm buildings. At night in the open country, the movement of animals and different noises were a bit scary. In the town, I only lasted two days before the local police picked me up as a stray. I ended up in an animal rescue center.

The animal rescue center turned out to be a living nightmare of crowded conditions and a cacophony of sound. I imagine most humans live like this. Most of my fellow dogs had been taken off the streets as strays. They were depressed, unwanted, and the large majority were extremely thin. With the absence of enough food to go around, there were constant fights. I was bundled into a relatively large kennel with a small front courtyard. Because I was considered a large dog, there were five other occupants with me.

My experience on the farm had allowed me to grow strong and muscular. The fight for food was unknown to me; I simply took what I wanted. It must have been late spring when I arrived at the center. When the early summer sun appeared, the heat was unbearable, compounded by a total lack of sufficient water. I imagined that if all the resident dogs were to stay in these conditions throughout the summer, many would die. Maybe that was the humans' idea. Two weeks later, I got lucky, as a man came looking for a guard dog. Once he saw me, I was chosen. Within an hour, I found myself in a gatekeeper’s lodge situated at the entrance to a factory.

He was a small man with a white mustache that made his face look angelic. He had kind, piercing blue eyes. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment above the gatekeeper’s lodge. From his smell and the friendly hand he extended, I knew he would look after me with affection. As a welcoming gesture, he fed me and placed a bowl of water on the floor for my convenience. He allowed me time to enjoy the food before he harnessed me with a leash and showed me around the perimeter of the factory. He indicated that my job consisted of two rounds of surveillance in the daytime, one at dusk, two in the night, and one in the early morning. I was to signal anything suspicious by barking and coming to find him. I would sleep in the gatekeeper's office with the door always ajar. I soon learned through certain incidents that I was to keep my distance from the factory workers.

I spent three years with Henry the gatekeeper without any major incident. He was a kind man who fed me well, occasionally gave me a bath, and brushed my coat. We respected each other. We lived peacefully over many days of tedious boredom. On my walks around the factory one day, I met a fox. Over the period of a month, we became friendly. This friendship resulted in us inventing a game we played together: hide and seek. This amusement relieved the dullness of the day.

Then, one day, as I was turning the corner that faced the central gate, I saw a number of policemen escorting the workers out of the factory. I retraced my steps and decided to lay low for a while. In fact, I lay down and fell asleep. Several hours later, I made my way back to the gatehouse. All was quiet and locked up. The factory site had been completely abandoned. I was shocked and saddened to find the gatekeeper was no longer there. My immediate thought was to leave, as staying stranded here like this made no sense. Behind the lodge, I knew of a passageway that would let me out of the closed-up area. I was getting old, though, and had difficulty passing through the opening. The only place I had a chance of surviving was in the town. This time, I would take care not to be picked up by the police. Two days later, in a violent rainstorm, I was wandering the town's streets looking for a shelter.

As my dreams started to disappear and a profound sleep took over, I had a fleeting thought: I wish I had known my mother and father. My life has been dominated by humans’ desires. I had never truly lived among my brothers and sisters.

I never woke up.

The eternal note of sadness Thomas Hardy

David Nutt May 2026