A Story About Companionship in Aging
by Michelle Kicherer of www.BananaPitch.com
This is a story about companionship in aging. I stroll through the park every morning on my way to work. And every morning I see an elderly gentleman walking with his elderly gentle dog. We nod and smile each time we pass, and something about the way the man carries himself – something about his fading cardigans, his determined gait, his smiling eyes – suggests that he is a man who knows a thing, or two. He’s been around, but he’s here now.
A graying Labrador walks slow and unsteady at his master’s side. I can almost hear the poor dog’s hip bones sawing against their sockets with each step. The two amble along the sidewalk, each respectfully stopping when his partner needs a break. The dog must sniff, the man must stretch. And though I’d only just begun seeing the man and his dog, I got the impression that the two had been sharing their routine for many years.
One day I did not see the man and his dog. Nor the next day. The weekend passed, a few more days, then finally I saw the elderly gentleman walking slowly with his hands each in his pockets, no longer encumbered by a leash.
“Where’s your dog?” I wanted to ask as I passed him one day.
The man gave a weak half smile as he passed, and nodded once as he kept walking.
I nodded, too, and felt a twinge in my heart. I didn’t know the man, but perhaps his dog was his only companion. I pictured him alone at home, his only excuse to go for walks his own health and leisure, and I worried that he would stop walking, would stop interacting with the world.
But a few days later, as I walked to work, I saw the elderly gentleman, with a fresh new Labrador. The dog pranced jauntily at the man’s side, pausing occasionally to sniff, allowing for the man to stretch. The dog had a skip in her step, and gently pulled along her master at a clip I’d not seen him use before.
The gentleman smiled at me with a quiet morning, “Hello,” on his lips.
I smiled back and paused in the walkway. The dog came up to me and I pet her happy face. “Sadie,” her name tag read. I looked up smiling, and the man beamed at me. He gave a cordial nod and the two continued off through the park. It pleased me knowing that the man had a new companion. That he was not alone. And I thought, as I walked to work that day, about how life comes and goes and how we all flow and move in and out with it. And how it’s all okay when we journey together, experiencing the companionship of aging.