A Tulip from Mary

“Alright then, how about we go next weekend?” Tom, sitting on his front porch, said into his cell phone.

Nothing.

“Frank? Frank, are you there?”

That’s strange, he thought to himself, the phone has a strong signal.

He got up fussing to himself about the incompetence of today’s modern techno-companies when Old Blue suddenly started acting strange. The old hound dog had suddenly gotten up from his resting spot under the big maple tree and started running around the yard like a young puppy.

What’s up boy? Tom asked out loud.

Old Blue ignored the old man. Instead, he ran into the flower garden and grabbed a tulip in his mouth. He then stopped for a moment staring off into the distance as if there were something of interest down the street. He then walked over to Tom and sat down directly in front of him. He dropped the flower at the old man’s feet.

Tom bent down and picked up the bright yellow flower. Tulips. Those had been Mary’s favorite flowers. As a matter of fact, he grew them in his garden now as a sort of memorial to his wife of so many years.

Old Blue got up and walked towards the front gate. He turned back as if beckoning Tom to follow.

What’s the matter old boy? Tom walked down the porch steps towards the dog.

The front gate swung open. Mary stood there with her hand held out to him.

Taking her hand, Tom and Old Blue walked down the street into forever.

“So this is exactly how you found them?” the officer asked the gardener.

“Yes sir. I found the old man and his dog both right here on the porch. It looks like they both simply passed away.”

Word count 295