Oak Tree's Valmory: A Safe Haven for Dog and A Man

Occasional soft breeze stroked the leaves of an old English oak. A skinny young man lay deep in sleep against its trunk. Trails of dried sweat had drawn a map of dreams on his dusty, flat tummy. A thin path of saliva travelled from his half-open, smiling lips. Sometimes, a ray of sunshine escaped the foliage and touched his cheek, suddenly causing the drool bubbles to reflect the entire world around him.

The grass around the Oak had started to turn tan. Dry, hot and silent was the day.

A lonely, shabby dog limped, seeking shade. It still had a long way to hobble before reaching the majestic tree. It knew there would be water, too, and its tongue felt like sandpaper in its dry mouth. It came here every day to meet its friend with a bottle of water and soft hands willing to stroke its neglected fur.

The young man opened his eyes. He took his t-shirt that had been his pillow and swiped his mouth when he saw the dog coming. Still with remnants of his dream in his eyes, he looked at the dog, lay back down and opened his water bottle.

Finally, the dog was there.

The young man poured water slowly on his tummy to make a tiny pond, and the dog licked it with a grateful tongue and adoring eyes. Then they slept together again in the valmory from the heat and sun.