The End of the Line

15 Minute Write

It is, of course, both physically and geographically the end of the line, but for a significant few, it has always been more existentially so. And so it was with Kik, who had lost everything through, what he still saw, as none of his own doing. From having a wife, house, job, and car, he became a single, homeless, unemployed pedestrian with a broken ego and heart. The decision to move from the city to backwater proved a little spur-of-the-moment, like most decisions he took, and was, as usual, fueled by alcohol. One minute begging at Paddington Station, the next avoiding guards on a five-and-a-half-hour trip to his spontaneous destiny.

It proved relatively easy to stay clear of the guards once he’d got onto the train ( tailgating an unsuspecting tourist at the barriers ), they clearly announced their arrival in the carriage with a hearty ‘ Tickets please’. You knew which direction they were coming and could make sure you were at the far end, allowing a quick manoeuvre into the toilets. Keeping Bones quiet proved harder. At eleven, he was a curmudgeonly old fellow who didn’t like being woken from his dreams, sudden moves or enclosed spaces. Back in the day, Kik could keep him quiet with treats, but those frivolous days were long gone. Bones’ teeth weren’t up to them anyway, he would tell himself, to dampen all the guilt he felt for snatching Bones from a later life of pampering, luxury and sleep.

Why he was thinking about this now was plain. This morning, he had not been woken up by cries for attention and ablution, nor a wet nose in his dirty, bearded face. The hot water bottle he had come to rely on during those bitter nights was cold and stiff and the tent stank of shit. He had buried Bones in the sand dune where he’d last seemed to have some actual fun, with an old ball, lost by some other dog walker. His days of ball chasing were at an end - or so Kik had thought - but Bones took delight in how, when the ball was thrown to the top of the dune, it rolled back slowly, rebounding off stones or clumps of vegetation to take a different course each time. His yelping, like a puppy, warmed Kik’s heart and almost made him forget a small part of the aching guilt he felt bringing him along in his suffering.

The tent was useless now - he thought he could try to wash it in the sea, but it was a pointless task. It would always smell of bones, and if it didn’t, then that might be worse. Perhaps it was time to move from these dunes that had been home for the last three months. It was easy to hide here. To pitch your tent in secrecy, and even if someone saw it, they never bothered you. Walking around was simple too - whereas in the towns you’d be stared at for your appearance, here, because you had a dog, you were just treated as one of the other many dog walkers - the mutual bond of the dog owner was strong.

Had it been his fault that Bones had died? Had he given up due to a lack of regular sustenance of any nutritional value? Should dogs even eat fish, he wondered, which was both their main diet when Kik could find them washed up dead on the shoreline. Or perhaps the cold had finally got to him. Ironic when Bones was the one who had probably kept him alive in some of the worst of the weather with his body warmth - had his supply simply worn out?

For Kik, this was the turning point. There could be no more disappointment in his life. His one companion had gone. His one connection to another time. Two paths lay in front of him now. One where he joined Bones and wrapped up the whole miserable saga of his existence, or one where, as nothing more could be taken from him, the only way was up. He could get back on that train and start to rebuild, or he could lie down and join Bones in his peace. Lying on his back, staring at the stars next to his last friend, he couldn’t help but reflect upon his failures, and how, of all the things he had lost, Bones was by far the most important to him. He craved his company like an unrequited love. Do dogs have their own Heaven, he wondered, or was there a universal one for everyone? Bones was sure to be there, and perhaps Kik had endured enough now to earn his place.

All photos The Towans, Cornwall. 2020. Nikon d750