As I walked down the alley I used to take to school, I caught that musty smell, which I later found to be rotting wood and decay. There was someone's German Shepherd in a fenced area that contributed to that smell, and for some reason, I could smell it no matter how far away it was. The dog is long gone, but its collar lay almost hidden under a pile of debris, so I picked up a stick, and after several attempts I got it to the fence and pulled it under where I wiped off the tag that read, name-Ralphy-address 1212 filmore st. phone-ludlo5678.That told me old rRalphy was in his prime about sixty years ago. Just around the time I walked down that alley and passed him on my way to school. I found the house he belonged to and knocked on the door. An elderly lady answered, and I introduced myself and showed her the collar. Oh my she said, old Ralphy. A tear ran down her face as she told me the story of her 15-year friendship with him. They were inseparable; no matter where she went, Ralphy was by her side. Her dad built the caged area Ralphy stayed in when she was at school, and I told her we must have known each other back then, as I saw him every day to and from school. She said her name was Mary Wilkes but changed it to Mary Silverman when she married. I introduced myself as Mark Willis. She excused herself for a minute, returning with a school yearbook she'd kept all these years. She pointed to herself and then to me, both about eight years old. From that day forward, Mary and I have stayed in touch thanks to a dog named Ralphy. The collar is hanging on the hook she used to hang his leash, a reminder of countless walks and fetching sticks. Belly rubs and wet kisses. And a grade school yearbook that was saved for just that moment in time.
Mike 2026
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