It was the dead of night. A moonless cloudy night with a gentle breeze blowing across the river that had nearly reached the end of its journey to the sea. The bedroom of the house that stood on a cliff overlooking the river was quiet, except for the whooshing of the overhead fan… Oh and the err… snoring. Umm yes… three different snoring sounds, each with its unique rhythm, timber and pitch; originating from the three other occupants that were sharing the room with me.
Everyone was sound asleep. However if the term “sound” asleep was meant to mean someone who could sleep through any explosion, then perhaps I’ll have to further elaborate. The term may be appropriate for the 14 year old lady who normally sleeps through lightning, thunder, the roof falling down, kingdom come etc. As for the 15 year old boy, he is hard of hearing… so the term might have been true for him as well. But for the other two on the bed – the 38 year old teenager and the 71 year “young” man, sleep meant that their otherwise normal ears would switch to “WAKE UP!!! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK” mode at the drop of a pin. It’s probably nothing; just our hunter genes, come out to play after sensing the quiet and dark, had come out to play.
On this particular night, my dreams had merged with the whooshing of the fan and my room-mates’ snoring till I heard a gentle clinging of a chain. My eyes opened and I looked straight at him. He was just a few feet away. There was tension in the air. Our eyes locked, and we spoke without words.
“It’s time” his eyes said
“Are you sure?” replied mine. “Didn’t you just…”
“Yes” he replied, using the silence to communicate.
“How long will you be?”
“I don’t know yet. Don’t wait up.”
I contemplated going back to sleep for a bit longer but he shook his head, making the large chain that he wore around his neck, cling….. Again… I got up from the bed, and cautiously moved towards him. He was prone on the floor, gathering his energy, and waiting till I was within striking distance. He turned to look at me as I bent down low. I gathered the loop in my hand and heaved with all my might. He thrashed about for a second before his feet found purchase on the tiled floor. He was now on all fours. The tensions had reached a crescendo as the wave of relief passed over us both. He turned and looked me in the eye again.
“Thank you” he said with unblinking eyes, before staggering to the French windows that opened to the river. I opened the window, and as he stepped out into the cool night, I slipped the knot that held his diaper in place and it fell quietly at his feet. He walked on, unperturbed, into the night.
I closed the windows and went back to my bed. I knew he would be long. It was a long walk around the house. I knew he would do a thorough job of marking every corner of the compound wall with “Roger was here”.
The dreams came… the ones that would last only till your eyes opened, before fading away into oblivion. And as I sank back into my pillow, my ears tuned and waited for the “woof”. For then I’d know he’s back – my furry 15 year old.
