Their Old Dog

Hilda had watched the photograph fade over the years. When her husband had taken it Lenny was just five years old. It had been a black and white print but now it had worn and become brown with age. Lenny was in his forties now. Hilda saw him often although for years previously they had missed each others company. Lenny had come back though, and ironically because of this Hilda had lost touch with her daughters.
         The photograph had been taken at the pool in the park. Lenny held a dog in his arms, it was ragged and disheveled perhaps from many years of neglect, but Hilda remembered Lenny treating the animal with respect, pulling it to his breast, making up for all the love it had lost along the way.
"He gets that from me" she thought wistfully, "he's such a kind boy"
Hilda placed the photograph back in its frame and walked to the window. Outside the air was damp and close, winter was approaching and there was not a soul to be seen. They all felt depressed, particularly Elsie. She always started to nag when the clouds loomed too low. Elsie, Hilda's cross to bear, neighbour and closest ally in times of need; worst enemy to Hilda's guilt; Elsie the Bigot; Elsie the Snob...Hilda's conscience.
She had been the first one to notice Lenny's weakness, not because she was shrewd or observant but because she liked to interfere in other people's business, taking advantage of their mistakes and indiscretions. Lenny had plenty of them.
         Hilda remembered the first time she had introduced Lenny to Elsie. He had arrived early one morning staggering up the path to her new home. Elsie had opened her door first.
"Can I help you?"
"I've come to see my mother - who are you?"
"Mrs. Jefferson." Elsie stiffened and pushed the door to until she was peeping through the gap.
"I'm Lenny"
"How do you do"
"Not too well", (mistake number one), "I'm ill"
"I can see that. Your mother has told me so much about you"
Hilda came to the door just then and pulled Lenny inside. Elsie slammed her door shut. After that Hilda had felt compelled to explain her predicament to Elsie, not the whole truth but enough to feign confidence in the hope she would not spread any gossip.
         Now she heard movements next door, the radio playing, the shuffling of feet and the sound of metal came echoing through the thin walls. Elsie was on the move. It was because of her and because of Lenny that Hilda had decided to move. The embarrassment of Lenny's predicament and Elsie's interest had finally got the better of her. The doctor had warned her about her high blood pressure and her angina had worsened. She was sure everyone must think it was her fault.
         It hadn't been easy to accept; Lenny the drunkard, Lenny the tramp: her son. No one seemed to understand why she had cared for him so - even to the extent of losing her daughters - Sacrificing them for the safe deliverance of her son. It had been ten years since she had fallen under his influence but what could she do? Stand by helplessly and watch him dwindle into a bottle? No. Lenny was her son after all. No one seemed to understand the decision she had to face.
"If that was my Valerie and she had become a lush I wouldn't feed her addiction the way you do" Elsie commented almost every week.
"But Valerie is a daughter, Lenny is my son. What would I do if I hadn't helped... and he had died?"
Elsie could not possibly understand. Valerie was a woman after all. Elsie shook her head.  Hilda thought that if she shook her head one more time it would fall off. Of course it wasn't as if she didn't know what they were getting at. The doctor had told her many times to stop giving him money but she simply could not see him in the gutter again. While she helped there was always a little bit of hope. It was true that her daughters had stopped calling, but after all they were strong and didn't need her any more. She turned to the photograph on the mantel piece. Lenny was smiling. He looked so happy and healthy and responsible. But only two weeks after the photograph had been taken, the dog, a mongrel, had died from old age. Hilda heard the phone ring next door.  It seemed that almost immediately Elsie had answered it, then there was a knock on the door.
Elsie stood there pale and looking her eighty years.
"Hilda... I'm sorry...a message from the hospital - it's Lenny".
         By the time she arrived Lenny was already dead. He had no belongings except for his clothes and a withered envelope they had found clutched in his hand when the ambulance crew had picked him up. Inside was a photograph of his mother holding a dog, ragged and disheveled from many years of neglect. She had looked happy then from treating the dog with respect.