Smokey And His Dad | Anecdote

Mad, who is mad? Is the dog mad? Or am I mad? Or is the whole world mad? Yes if the dog is mad as they have labelled it then it would surely bite me but who cares?

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Smokey’s dad….

The stone laid path and grandpa both were red! They were as red as the sun whose lights were about to die as he prepared to slide down the horizon. Even the waves by the beachside were unusually quieter than yesterday, they hit the shore with not much urgency and enthusiasm as they always did. Maybe all the waves had decided amongst themselves not do so. 

The waves seemed to  synchronise with each thought of grandpa’s. 

Staring at the setting sun grandpa was standing supported by his walking stick. Wonder what made grandpa fix his gaze at the dying sun?.

If everything was fine by now the waves would’ve washed the footprints which both grandpa and Smokey would leave behind. It was always a delight for grandpa to see Smokey chase and fight with the waves of water which crashed the golden sandy shore. But Smokey was locked up in one of the big rooms of grandpa’s home from the past two days, as he left for his routine evening walk by the beachside grandpa had lovingly patted on Smokey’s head and departed for a walk with a heavy heart. It was only since yesterday that the duo had split apart.

Grandpa’s son who lived in Germany hadn’t bothered to visit his widowed father from the past fifteen years. Since then Smokey was everything for grandpa a companion, friend, son and even more.

As for grandma, she had died long back as soon as her own son was born. Even though the evening breeze was cool grandpa’s memories were as hot as the sun.

Grandpa who was deeply lost in his own thoughts didn’t realise that it had begun to get dark, had Smokey been there he would’ve caught grandpa’s walking stick in between his jaws and would’ve dragged grandpa home. Grandpa, in fact, had begun searching for Smokey scanning all around himself but the bitter truth was that Smokey wasn’t there.

The dog has gone mad they said, it has bit four they said, it could also bite you they said, don’t get the dog outside they said, kill that dog by today or we’ll have it killed they said.

Mad, who is mad? Is the dog mad? Or am I mad? Or is the whole world mad? Yes if the dog is mad as they have labelled it then it would surely bite me but who cares? No, not even my son would care to get my carcass cremated in the right way no matter if I died because of a mad dog biting me or if I passed away in my sleep thought grandpa. Grandpa slowly began walking back to his home, had not the streetlights been there then grandpa would’ve surely lost his way.

The next evening Smokey was found discreetly walking by grandpa’s side, their steps were brisker than usual, as they always did they walked towards the seashore Smokey was extremely thrilled on seeing the frothing waves gushing towards the shore after a really long time, grandpa lovingly looked at Smokey who while wagging his tail stared back at grandpa with equal love.

Grandpa slowly began walking towards the violent shores which were influenced by bright moon that had crept close to the earth’s custody fearing the sun’s wrath, like as if to welcome the moon or mock at the sun the waves played all sort of sports jumping up the sky and splashing and blasting mid-air competing amongst themselves as to how many new found lands or gigantic stones could they devour to entertain the moon who was shaking with fear.

Smokey innocently followed grandpa, even before they realised a huge wave engulfed both grandpa and Smokey. Finally, they were out of this lunatic world, thanks to the lunatic moon and the lunatic waves which danced under his command.

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