God Dog.(Annie Frame) God Dog, by Annie Frame

Lester Mare was a small ugly looking man who had never amounted to much. His small outlook on life had narrowed down opportunities, yet he blamed everyone but himself. He’d deliberately placed distance between him and his parents and purposefully fell out with his one and only sibling Matilda, because he couldn’t live up to her effortless standards. A mean looking man glowered back at him each and every time he looked in the mirror and only added to his frustration.

Time had stolen any hair he’d owned, it had taken off with his youth and traded it in for permanent frown lines painted with misery. His gut hung over his trousers adding to his morbid personality. The only thing bright in the sad equation was his visits to the local church where he worshipped daily. He’d turned to God to excuse most of his behaviour and it had worked for him. He no longer felt pangs of guilt for treating others badly and found comfort in ancient scripts. There were always philosophies he could play about with until they suited the purpose.

No one at the church questioned him about much, because they all had their own agenda, pleading for this or that or trying to get on Gods good side for what ever reason. Lester loved the umbrella it provided and he never doubted God’s glory, which perhaps he should have. It was a glorious day when the old lady trotted through the huge wooden church doors and caught the attention of the parishioners. She was quite an age, yet didn’t look it. One moment wrinkles hung on her features and the next they didn’t.

Her smile dazzled the congregation making Lester think she must be well up in the preaching circuit. Everyone turned to look at her as she took a seat near the front of the church. The main man approached her to butter her up with his endless patter, but she politely told him she had come to observe for only a short while. His black gown swept the grubby floor when he dutifully retreated as her eyes followed him but only for a short while. The service started as usual and the stranger remained. Endless prayers were formed by all who yearned to be heard while the visitor kept her silence.

Time crept past as did the couple of hours. Finally the main man finished off with a request for funds for this and that and everyone dug deep in their pockets to accommodate. The stranger didn’t and let the collection sail slowly past her. Heads settled together, whispers hung in the air observing her lack of respect. Eventually the aging lady turned round to face Betty Bunting who was sniping behind her back. “My dear is there a problem?” she enquired. Betty Bunting was flustered, she wasn’t used to being confronted and used confession to unburden her nasty bones.

The two ladies held eye contact and Betty managed to compose her self enough to say, “You’re the problem.” The stranger smiled and stated, “Really?” and added, “How am I a problem to you?” Bunting looked fierce and spat, “Because you have sat through the service and not given to our church.” The reply was swift, “Oh but I have. I have given my time.” Betty’s friend Tis Waggot intervened with, “We don’t want your time we want your money.”

Lester watched with folded arms disgusted at the stranger’s antics. How dare she come to the church to take and not give anything substantial? After a long pause the old lady pronounced, “I have come here today to leave a lesson behind for someone to find. I hope they pass the test, but I doubt they will.” Bunting shook her head in disbelief and sniped, “What rubbish. Go away and leave us in peace.” The old lady glanced over the two fat old birds and replied, “You will never find peace in greed my dear.” Fury spurred Bunting on and she hissed back, “I haven’t one greedy bone in my body.” To which the reply was, “I’m afraid I must agree, because you have too many to count.”

On that note the main man intervened with, “I think it is time for you to leave.” The visitor turned her tender gaze on him and asked, “Have you put anything in the collection?” He looked away and didn’t answer, so she added, “I didn’t think so.” On that note she stood up, made her way up the isle and out into the glorious sunshine.

The heads fell together in deep discussion about the unsavoury visitor, no name had been left, but that didn’t stop folk slinging mud. After a long sniping session calling her all the names under the sun the congregation disbanded and left for home. Lester was last to leave as usual. He hated going home to steep in his own juice and reflect on life’s mean streak. Nevertheless he said goodbye to the main man and left the church. Outside on the steps sat a large rusty coloured old dog. It looked like he was waiting for someone, yet everyone had left, so he’d be waiting an awful long time.

Lester had hardened up years ago after a ruthless neighbour had knocked down his golden retriever for the hell of it. He wasn’t going to backtrack over some soft brown eyes. It had taken years for him to build the armour he owned and he wasn’t going to let an old mutt penetrate it. Suddenly the main man locked the door of the church that he’d come to depend on and left him to his own devices. Then to make matters worse the sun dashed behind a cloud and the skies opened.

Options were limited in that Lester could either take the old boy home or leave him. He followed his heart of stone and walked away from the dog not looking back. After he’d left the church and its yard he didn’t feel the relief he had expected and instead felt loathing inside his gut. Self loathing stabbed him as he wrestled with the conscience he’d disowned years ago. To go home would only make matters worse, so Lester turned back around, retraced his footsteps and headed back to the old rusty dog that was patiently waiting.

No collar meant no name tag, so Lester guessed he’d be well and truly lumbered in the long run. He forced a smile and him self to say, “Come on boy.” The old dog stood up, wagged his tail and obediently followed the person he’d come to find. Once they arrived at Lester’s place Old Rusty immediately made him self comfortable on Lester’s favourite seat. Old habits die hard and futile emotions rose to the surface. Fickle words came to mind as Lester walked forward preparing to belt the old dog.

Just as he was about to land one on the animal another feeling overtook. Sympathy stole the show for only a moment, but it was enough time for Lester to change his mind. He had other seats so it wasn’t a big deal. He changed direction as a huge snore left the beast putting a grin on Lester’s normally miserable bracket. The night wasn’t as long as it normally was and when the morning arrived Old Rusty was lying cheek to cheek with Lester! Again spite reared its ugly head and Lester prepared to attack the gentle giant, but again an old familiar emotion stirred and won hands down. Compassion nestled into the equation making Lester succumb and accept the slobbery kiss on offer.

And so time past and the friendship grew and grew. Lester cast off his old clout and reclaimed parts of him self he’d long forgotten. The church became a thing of the past along with his isolation. Many times when he wandered happily with Old Rusty chatting to other souls with four legged friends, he found himself asking why he’d never felt this happy while pestering God.

The time that Lester had known would come and dreaded arrived. Old Rusty left without saying goodbye. He escaped his flesh and bones during the night leaving a void that would never be filled. Tears that Lester had never allowed to fall fell heavily day after day. Time didn’t ease the grief and old bitter ways tempted Lester back down the same road. The church was on that road so he went back.

Familiar faces studied his return and heads flew together to voice disapproval of his absence. The main man looked him over for only a second or two. The service started as Lester nursed the emptiness he owned. Long drawn out verse spoken with repetition delivered a hollowness that made his grief worse and he fought the urge to alight and leave. Then petite footsteps demanded attention and all eyes turned to see the late comer.

The stranger had returned to reinact her original stance. She hadn’t changed, but neither had the congregation that glowered at her with venom. Lester observed that none of the animosity bothered the old lady as she took her place with ease. The service was long and lingered as Lester wondered how he had endured it for so long with so little pleasure to show for it. Memories of him bartering with God for things he thought were important no longer mattered and never really had.

His eyes drooped and threatened to close as the main man sauntered along his road, until the end came and the same old collection plate appeared. Lester’s senses renewed as he expected the worse and it came when the plate was deliberately placed under the visitor’s nose and ignored. “What a bitch.” hissed the same old voice. Betty Bunting had the same axe to grind, but it had no effect on the old lady who ignored the comment, turned her attention to Lester and said, “I see you found all you needed to.”

Lester didn’t have a clue what she meant, but didn’t want to converse with her due to the mean glares being administered. She had other ideas and went on, “Come with me, you have wasted enough time my dear.” She stood up and headed out of the church so Lester followed in spite of the glowering inferno. Once out side he noticed a familiar figure waiting in the same place. He blinked his eyes to refocus, yet still Old Rusty remained.

“This can’t be real.” Bleated Lester to which the visitor stated, “It is.” A lingering pause fell into place until she continued, “If you look closer you will see Old Rusty’s report on you.” Puzzled Lester stuttered, “Report.” To which she repeated, “Yes my dear, report.” Lester looked closer and noticed misty writing in the depths of the dog. The writing outlined everything that had happened since his paths crossed with Old Rusty, even the private emotions that Lester had fought and won had been recorded.

The stranger smiled and told him, “You wanted to hide the good in you to protect your self, so the test was set.” Lester wasn’t sure what to make of it so enquired, “He is a ghost?” She replied, “Only for a short while.” A pain shot through him like a thousand volts, his legs gave out as he breathed his last. The congregation rushed out of the church and found Lester Mare dead on the church steps. No one saw Lester and Old Rusty disappear into the newness they’d found, or the ancient stranger who had brought the God Dog.

By Annie Frame copyright 2010

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