His name was Alfie.
Quite a character.
Alf ya bastard I’d heard folks curse him.
Short wiry with goaty beard.
Beautiful eyes,black lined just like a Pharo
He was look sideways at most folk and animals with contempt like suspicion.
He came into my life quite unexpectedly with all the chaos and unpredictablity of a hurricane.
He had been living in Manchester with a scruffy old guy who had reached the end of his tether and decided enough is enough.
I’m too old to put up with such a unruly bad mannered rebel of a lodger
I can’t cope with him he sighed.
I’ve earned him time and time again.
He was fighting in the street again last night.
Last week he didn’t come home for three days.
Out chasing a lass.
The blonde woman from the chip shop came shouting the odds.
Her girl is pregnant
She’s not best pleased I know he’s only young but I can’t see him changing.
A year ran down his face.
He’s just got to go.
And so that’s how it happened young rebel Alfie moved in with me.
Everything the old man described and more.
Fighting, running away
I’d lie awake and worry.
Morning would one and I’d open the curtains there he would be.
Bold as brass.
Lying on the lawn
Not a care in the world.
I’d open the door.
Where have you been?
He would look at me with those big eyes
I could never stay mad for long
He was brilliant with my kids.
I knew he would protect them with his life.
They all grew up together.
The years rolled by
We were now inseparable
He traveled everywhere with me.
Scotland, London. Cornwall.
Kids grew up left home.
Alf and I settled in Wales.
We loved the mountains and valleys spend lots of time exploring.
Twenty years had passed.
Alfie my rebel best friend.
He loved our canal side cottage.
That’s where he ended his days
I thought my heart would break.
Alfie, taught me patience tolerance and unconditional love.
My little patterdale terrier.
Made paw prints on my heart.
That could never fade.
Raven Wordsmith 🖤