Short Story

EARLY MORNINGS

Marigold Verity, Sherborne Scribblers

There was a time when as a busy mother, my early mornings revolved round the school run. Hurried breakfasts, gathering up schoolbooks and a rush to catch the school bus – or on late mornings, to chase the school bus!

Later, the children having grown and departed, the dog became my reason for an early morning exit from the house. The unofficial rendezvous for us dog walkers became the old quarry that had been converted into a public park. The newly planted trees were maturing, forming little woodland clumps. While paths wind uphill and down dale around the grassy interior.

There, punctually at 7.30 am, David would be seen, outside the entrance, sitting in his car and reading the newspaper, with his whippet looking anxiously out of the window, watching out for other doggie friends. David had a problem walking. He seemed to have developed poor circulation in his painful legs, so by walking his dog, we relieved him of his doggie duties. He continued to read the paper and give us a summary of the daily news on our return from our round.

I remember that beautiful sunny morning in spring when the dawn chorus was particularly vibrant. The birds were clearly very busy claiming their territory or calling for a mate, yet looking towards the valley beyond, on the horizon were dark, forbidding clouds. That was the morning there was no David. I thought nothing of it, we all have ‘a lie-in’ some days. As the black clouds swirled, sooner than expected, it started to tip down with rain.

We all scurried to the gate, to head home. As I exited the gate, I saw a couple of stationary cars, one car had its engine still running, and I watched the wipers swishing hypnotically. I wondered why the engine was running

yet the car remained stationary. Then, I saw the driver was on the phone. Suddenly, an ambulance came splashing down the road, siren going with flashing lights. The car with the swishing wipers shot out and followed the ambulance, a blue light suddenly started rotating on the top of his car. He must have been a medic, I thought. We dog walkers wondered what kind of emergency had arisen.

Then, some hunch made me worry that that ambulance just might have been for David. Only the day before I was told he had been diagnosed as having blood clots close to his heart. I had to make a decision to check if he was alright. I put the dog in the back of the car and jumped in hastily and set off for David’s house. There, I saw what I feared. The car and ambulance were parked outside. Obviously, there was nothing I could do just then but wait outside.

I knew David’s neighbour would take his dog to her home and phoned her later that day. She told me David had collapsed on the landing as he was approaching the stairs. Fortunately, he had his mobile phone, so alerted her to call for help. Sadly, he died before reaching hospital, the blood clot had caused a heart seizure.

It doesn’t seem long ago that this all took place. I often think of David when I take my early morning walk. How punctual he was, his newspaper held up like a screen against the car window. His anxious little whippet is no longer there, looking out at the back of the car. I heard he has been adopted by a doggie friend and is having a very happy time. Up at the old quarry, the dawn chorus is still magical, and the leaves on the trees are burgeoning now. But things are not the same. We dog walkers miss David, his little whippet’s anxious face and our daily summary of the news.