Old Toby-Dog

• Peter Shallcross, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2015

Old Toby-Dog lay upon the heath before the fireplace. He watched with some amusement as the flames licked at the log of pinewood and danced around the small cluster of coal lumps that Mr Stuart, Toby-Dogs’ master and best friend, had laid there half an hour ago. Tody-Dog had always found watching the fire dancing in the fireplace to be a fascinating way to spend his evenings. He had never been overcome with the wonder of television; he had been inclined to bark at any animals he saw on Mr Stuart’s small black and white set.
Old Toby was now thirteen years of age and he did not have the strength to bother barking at the shapes on the television anymore. His eyes too were now going, probably from staring at the fire too intensely. Now he had to come very close to the edge of the grate to see the flames dance as he had seen them in his younger days.
A splash from the bathroom told him that his master had finished with his bath and that he would be coming in to sit in his easy chair. He didn’t like Toby-Dog laying too near the fire as he knew it was bad for the old dog’s already weak eyes. With this thought in mind Old Toby-Dog trudged slowly back away from the fire towards his masters’ easy chair. He walked slowly letting the side of the coffee table guide him forward, for he could not make out the chair on its own in the dark room. He moved forward and brushed his nose against the chair to assert it was still there before nestling down next to it.
Presently Mr Stuart entered. He was a tall man, or at least he had been in his prime, and had a thick walrus moustache which was so typical of the Victorian age he had been born in. Now, thirty-two years after it had ended, he still did not feel the need to shave it. He wore his old green patched dressing-gown. He was carrying a plate of four pieces of shortbread and glass of milk.
He sat himself down in his easy chair and the springs groaned under his weight. The plate was placed on his lap as he put his down and gently ruffed Tody-Dog’s fur with affection.
“Here you are old faithful,” he said and he gently placed the smallest piece of shortbread on the floor just in front of Toby-Dog’s nose. Toby-Dog sniffed it for a moment before rising on all fours and taking it in his mouth. He instinctively stumped over to his basket in the far corner to eat in privacy. Mr Stuart was always careful not to leave anything between the easy chair and Toby-Dogs basket. Toby-Dog lay himself down in the basket, snuggling under the old tablecloth that he used as lining. It was only then that he bight into the shortbread and tasted its sweetness. He did enjoy shortbread.