Four married men decided to spend a day fishing together. As they cast their lines, the conversation naturally turned to the sacrifices they had made to be there.
The first man spoke up, saying, “You guys have no idea what I had to do to make it today. On Saturday, I promised my wife I’d paint the entire house.” The others nodded, sympathizing with the struggle of balancing plans with their spouses.
The second man chimed in, eager to top the first. “That’s nothing,” he said. “I promised my wife I’d build her a new deck by the pool. She’s been wanting it for years, so bringing her fishing was the only way to keep that promise.”
The third man wasn’t about to be outdone. “Both of you had it easy,” he declared. “I told my wife I’d completely remodel the kitchen for her! It’s a huge project, but I couldn’t miss this fishing trip with you guys.”
As the three continued their banter, they turned to the fourth man, who had remained silent. Curiosity got the better of them, and they asked, “So, what did you have to promise to be here?”
With a sly grin, the fourth man finally spoke. “Well,” he said, “I didn’t promise anything. I just set my alarm for 5:30, turned it off when it rang, gave my wife a little nudge, and asked, ‘Fishing or something else?’” Pausing for effect, he added, “She told me, ‘Put on a sweater.’”
The group erupted in laughter at his clever workaround. Sometimes, the simplest approach is the most effective.
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The Gift of Fido
The silence in my small house had grown louder with each passing year. Old and alone, the days stretched out, often indistinguishable from one another. I thought about getting a dog, a creature that would fill the emptiness, a warm presence against the encroaching quiet.
One chilly afternoon, shuffling through the familiar streets, I saw him. A small, scruffy shape huddled near a bin, dirty and clearly hungry. He looked up as I approached, his eyes wide but without fear. I knelt down slowly, offering a tentative hand. He didn’t flinch. I stroked his matted fur, spoke softly to him. When I stood up to leave, he simply followed, a silent, trusting shadow.
Now, he is my dog. My Fido. I am his human, his owner, though it feels more like we own each other. The silence is gone, replaced by the soft pad of his paws, the occasional sigh, the happy thump of his tail against the floor.
I talk to him constantly, sharing my thoughts, my worries, the mundane details of my day. He answers in his own way – a tilt of the head, a soft whine, or his favorite response, a vigorous wash of my hand with his rough tongue.
“Fido,” I’d told him just the other day, the worry etching lines deeper into my face, “tomorrow we won’t have anything to eat. The retirement money is gone, finished. We’ll have to wait until pension day!” He just licked my hand, as if to say, “We’ll figure it out, together.”
And then that blessed day arrives. I join the queue, a line of fellow retirees, each clutching their worn pension book, shattered by time and use. My own is tight in my hands, a thin lifeline. Fido, tied patiently nearby, shakes himself happily, a little dance of anticipation. He knows this day. He knows that today the bowls will be fuller, the meal a little richer, a little better than the thin gruel of the days before.
Winter arrives, wrapping the house in its cold embrace. Without a fire, the air bites. But Fido is there. Curled tightly against my legs on the worn armchair, or tucked beside me in bed, his small body is a furnace, a constant, reliable source of warmth that chases away the chill. He is more than just a dog; he is my living, breathing blanket against the cold world.
The first hesitant rays of spring find us sitting outside, bathed in the gentle warmth of the returning sun. We sit in comfortable silence, simply existing, together, grateful for the light, for the warmth, for each other. And from deep within my heart, a simple prayer is born, a quiet whisper of profound gratitude: “Thank you, Lord, for creating the dog.” For creating Fido, who found me when I was alone, and filled my life with warmth, conversation, and unwavering companionship.
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