The Saddest Story You'll ever hear.

The Saddest Story You'll ever hear. There are at least... ...People just as sad as you on the planet. How reassuring.

The Good Soldier's Dog by Harrison Matrix Ford

This is the saddest shaggy dog story I ever heard. Honest. Trust me, I'm not making this up.
We, that is my wife Florence and I, first became aquainted with the Ashburnhams in that glorious summer of 1996 on the bank of the Thames in the vicinity of B______ dogs home. Florence had been longing for the company of a new pet for some time. Ever since the Gerbil took it's own tiny life, infact. Mudford had been such a lively young scamp, forever running excitedly on his wheel. With his frail little rodent heart Florence was forever fawning over him and worrying that he would work himself into a serious condition, just as the hampster, who'd also hade a weak heart, had several months before. The shock to Florence's system when she had returned home one evening to find Mudford, lying in his yellow plastic house stone cold was too much for my poor wife for she too, as with the Hampster and the Gerbil, had a weak heart. Mudford, it seemed, had tired of life on the wheel, as it were, and had replaced the water in his feeding bottle with rat poison from under the kitchen sink. And what a sad sight, and a shock, it must have been for poor Florence to find him there, stiff as a board, his wheel still spinning from his final exercise and my fingerprints all over the cage. Did I say that? Well I can't exactly remember the details but I know it was suicide, and that's the truth.
It was because of this double-tragedy that I had finally repented and agreed to take Florence to the dog sanctuary to find a good, strong hearted and happy new pet to replace to miserable little wretches of the past. And what a find! As soon as we saw Nancy we knew immediatly that she would fit perfectly into our tragedy stricken little family. Florence and I looked at each other and my wife gave a wry, almost imperceptable, smile which I took to mean 'Yeah, whatever. She'll do.' and that was that.
And what a fine pup Nancy was, with her beautiful luxuriant hair and bright intelligent brown eyes. True, she struck one as naive and innocent with no real knowledge of the ways of the world. Why, I doubt the timid little thing with her shiny brown hair even knew where puppies came from. There was something awfully appealing about a dog who did not know the meaning of the word 'fetch' or have the wherewithall to catch a ball that was thrown for her attention, although she was terribly good at ripping the heads off squirrels in Oxford U_________ Park. Did I mention her beautiful brown hair?
It was as we left the sanctuary with sweet Nancy trotting along beside my wife that we first met Edward and Leanora Ashburnham. The two were picnicking on the embankment and I can recall even now, as if it were a mere moment ago, how beautiful Leanora looked in the fading sunlight of the early evening. I remember her long blacker than night flowing hair, possibly the most beautiful I had ever seen on a biped. I can recollect how splendid Edward looked, for he was in full uniform. Clearly a cultured man too, I thought, judging by the manner in which he maintained his composure as Nancy noisily nuzzled his crotch. When she began to dribble onto his fine tunic I thought it may distract him to anger and we might recieve a sermon on keeping our excitable mutt under control, but Edward just waved his hand nonchalantly and laughed it off, explaining that his uniform was actually the property of Dixons and that they had a lady who did their laundry thrice weekly. He confirmed my assumption that he was a man of high position too, by remarking that he held the position of assistant manager and was entrusted with the security and maintenance of the mini disc system display cabinet. When I think back now, alone and wiser, to that fateful day I can see clearly the root of the tragedy that befell the five of us. Even then, as I recall, it was the appearance of Edward picnicking on the riverbank in his fine uniform and holding a tube of Original Pringles that drove young, impressionable Nancy into an excitable frenzy. Back then of course I believed it to be nothing more than a natural canine desire for those tasty potato-based snacks. And now, my dear passive listener? Well, it is always clearer in hindsight is is not to see the errors and naivete of ones past beliefs? It was Edward! Edward Nancy hungered for, and no amount of winalot and plastic squeezy toys was going to sate such an animal apetite.
The closeness between the four of us grew over the course of the years. As the next century loomed and the uncertainty of what lay ahead became the predominant concern of many of our peers it seemed almost as if the Asburnhams, Florence and myself were the last outpost of sanity in a world seeking answers it had precious little chance of finding. None of us were certain of what it all meant, especially that last pompous sentence, but we were so mesmerized by the company of each other that we never stopped to concern ourselves with idle philosophising. We would holiday together for instance. I say 'together' although this is not strictly true for Edward would often spend our vacation time at the quaranteen center (Oh, did I mention that Florence and myself were Connecticut Yankees? Or that Edward and Leanora were Scientologists? Well, no matter...) or the Kennel club in order to 'keep little Nancy company'. Of course I put this down to a combination of Edwards good upbringing and strong streak of altruism. What a fool I was!
And so the four of us, increasingly the three of us, would travel the country visiting Spar's ,in an attempt to find the best deal on Ginsters pasties, and other idle pursuits. Maybe it was deserved then, this terrible fate that awaited our 'menage a quatre plus une chien' as the saying goes. Yes, perhaps I should have had my eyes open and then this calamity that was so destructive to those, seemingly, halcyon days would not have come to call on us. I still remember the date ofcourse. The day it all became so terribley clear, The Fourth of June 2002. The Fourth of June, ah yes. A date that has dogged me, so to speak, for so many years. For it was on this day, a lifetime ago it seems, back before Nancy and the Ashburnhams certainly, that Mudford had taken his little Gerbil life. And it was on that date, the Fourth of June, minus three months and thirteen days that Radcliffe the Hampster had also shamed himself in the eyes of the Rodent-Deity by breathing his last in the name of self deliverance.
The Fourth of June 2002 then, and Florence seemed so happy and radient. It was as if she had finally put the horrors of that date behind her for the first time in five years. It had been decided, amongst the women as Edward and myself had more pressing matters , that Florence and I would host a dinner party for our most precious of friends. It was to be a grand affair and their had even been discussion on the possibility of twiglets. Obviously I did not want to leave out my precious Nancy from such a gay occasion and I returned home that afternoon with a ribboned Biscuit Bone for her to feast upon. Her little eyes lit up at the sight of this suprise treat. Infact, I thought to myself at that moment, she seemed to come alive in a way I had not seen her do so in some considerable time. Only the excitement when 'Uncle Edward' would take her walkies seemed to awake in her such a manner of frenzied anticipation. I ask again, silent listener, how could I have been so blind? So foolish? And then the Ashburnhams arrived. And Edward had brought along the biggest can of rabbit and chicken Mr Dog I had ever set eyes upon. It must have cost a sum, of that I am sure, even if purchased as I suspected from a Cash'n'Carry. But did I suspect a thing? I believe now, in the bright glare of retrospect, that only a foolish man would fail to see when another would take away his greatest love from right under him. But perhaps that was Edward Ashburnhams greatest advantage in this deceit, the way he went about it so openly in full view of all of us. And, intrigue upon intrigue, perhaps beautiful Leanora herself knew what Edward was up to. Maybe she too desired canine companionship for she had produced no children with her husband and it is plain knowledge that a woman without children is a woman in need of a dog. As for Florence, well she was so wrapped up in the desire to produce a fine meal for her husband and closest friends that I daresay she did not so much as notice Edwards grand treat for Nancy. Whether she was aware, as I had not been , of the mans growing want for our beloved dog to become the Ashburnham family pet and of Nancy's own desire to have Edward as her master I have no idea although I do not think it is unreasonable of me to say that it is difficult to fully trust a woman who shares her name with a Magic Roundabout character. And so, beside myself as I was, distraught even, we sat down and dined on the magnificent fondue prepared by Florence. There was an unmistakable atmosphere in the room though, broken only by the sound of Nancy, wolfing down the Mr Dog - my Biscuit Bone long since discarded. Only Edward seemed unaware of the distress that his relationship with Nancy was causing the rest of us. And then it happened. We had gotten around to the twiglets and coffee and Nancy was laying peacefully at Edwards feet in a content manner such as she had done with myself but a few months before. And Edward, Edward who had been such a good friend to me for so long, Edward gently and quietly called Nancy's name and that dog with her beautiful shiny coat and large, intelligent eyes sprang up immediatly to his lap.

And then he touched her paw.

And that was it, that was the moment when I knew I had lost her for good. It was a feeling like a devils laugh that eveloped me but the strangest sensation was the emotional void I felt. Nothing. It was almost a relief in a way, at last I now knew why Nancy seemed so unenthused at walkies time of late. Why she merely picked at her Winalot when once she had gobbled it up with gusto. I knew now why she just sat there passively when she was de-liced when once she had needed holding down by at least two pairs of hands, one pair often being those of Edward ofcourse. At last I had the answer to the question of why she no longer raped my leg under the dining table when she was in heat . Edwards love, as I feared, was anything but unrequited.
And so I was the only witness to Nancy's shocking end. I sat next to her in the car as we drove to the vetanary practice. I did not wish to ask what business she had there, it was most queer of her to decide for herself that she would like to visit the place. Of course I was well aware of her intentions, but I ask you 'what could I do?'. As I drove her to her death, for there is no other way to put it, she looked at me one last time with those big brown eyes. She looked at me in a way she had not done in such a long time that I very nearly cracked, but I managed to maintain my composure for if my tears would only come now, at the end of this tale, then what worth were they? Maybe if I had shown my love for Nancy before, things would have not ended this way but there was no dissuading her from her intent. And as she looked at me I realised what she wanted, she was saying to me 'Please remove my collar and give it to Edward so that he will always remember me, I would do it myself but it isn't so easy when you have don't have fingers'. So you see, when I say this is the saddest story I ever heard I do not exagerate for whether it be a man or a dog, a human life lost is a human life lost.
And I stopped the car and Nancy trotted off into the surgery. She turned her head just once, and I wished she had not for her eyes were two big brown pools of the deepest sadness. I didn't know what to say, I wanted to say "Dog, bless you" for I am a sentimentalist and also I have a fancy for the occasional pun. But I said nothing. I stood for a while in the parking lot, a good while infact and the sky began to darken. Then I took Nancy's collar to Edward. He was quite pleased with it.

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