Twilight’s Solitude

“No more today, Bruno. My old fingers can’t take the strain,” said Giovanni. The dog sat up and looked, then lay back down to sleep more.

“I pretended I am not old, but the truth is that we are way past our prime. You might say we have one foot in the grave,” remarked the old clown as he moved the chair into the house.

Giovanni had worked for the Milano Circus for thirty-five years before he retired. He could not keep up with the ringmaster’s increasing demands.

Now, he and his sideshow dog live outside the city in his mother’s old home. “Bruno, we will have a nice long rest, and then we can perform for the maker,” Giovanni would tell his dog.

Lately, he has felt the pains of aging and wonders who will go first, the dog or the clown.

“If I go first, old friend, I will ensure you have a nice room when you get there. If you go first, don’t put me in the doghouse. Okay,” Giovanni said with a wry smile.

Giovanni spent the nights reading stories out loud to his friend. Once a week, they walked to the market to buy food. Sometimes, Giovanni even bought a soup bone for the old dog.

The Clows felt unusually tired tonight, so they ate a light dinner and retired early. “Tomorrow, we will walk to the lake and do some fishing. Perhaps we can have trout for dinner,” said the old man.

The dog was already fast asleep, and the man soon followed. He dreamed of days past when he could make a crowd roar with laughter, and the future seemed so far away.

The forest was silent the following day, and the birds missed the music coming from the house. When the air is still, they sometimes hear the music coming from the sky.