A Sold Friend: Grandad’s Tale And He Understood Me! It Was No Fun – I Realized What a Foolish Idea It Was. I Sold Him. He Thought It Was a Game, Until He Realized I’d Truly Sold Him. Times, After All, Are Different for Everyone. For Some, All-Inclusive Isn’t All That Generous, While Others Just Dream of Fresh Bread and Sausage. That’s how we lived – each in our own way, with all sorts of ups and downs. I was little back then. My uncle – Uncle George – gave me a shepherd puppy, and I was over the moon. The pup bonded with me, understood me at a glance, looked into my eyes and waited, waited for my signal. “Lie down,” I would say after a pause, and he would lie, gazing up at me loyally as though ready to die for me. “Serve,” I commanded, and the puppy would clamber up on chubby legs and freeze, swallowing anxiously, waiting for a reward – a tasty treat. But I had nothing to spoil him with. We were barely managing ourselves. Times were tough. My uncle, Uncle George, my mum’s brother who had given me the puppy, once said to me: “Don’t be upset, lad. Look how loyal he is! Sell him, then call for him, and he’ll run back to you. No one will see. You’ll have some money for a treat for you and your mum, and for him too. Trust me, I’m telling you something useful.” The idea sounded good to me. I didn’t realize then how wrong it was – an adult suggested it, and besides, it’d just be a joke, and I could get a treat. I whispered into Loyal’s warm, furry ear that I’d give him away, then call him back, so he should come to me and escape from strangers. And he understood me! He barked, as if to agree. The next day, I put on his lead and walked him to the station. Everyone sold things there – flowers, cucumbers, apples. The crowd poured off the train, and people began buying, haggling. I stepped forward a little, pulling my dog closer. But no one approached. Almost everyone had gone when a man with a stern face came over. “You there, lad, waiting for someone, or maybe you want to sell your dog? Good, strong pup – I’ll take him,” and he pressed some money into my palm. I handed him the lead. Loyal looked around and sneezed happily. “Go on, Loyal, go with him, my friend,” I whispered, “I’ll call you, come to me.” And he went off with the man. Hiding, I watched where they went. That evening, I brought home bread, sausage, and sweets. Mum asked sternly: “Did you steal this from someone?” “No, Mum, I helped carry some things at the station, and they paid me.” “Well done, son. Now eat and let’s go to bed – I’m exhausted.” She didn’t even ask about Loyal; she didn’t care. Uncle George came by in the morning. I was getting ready for school, but all I wanted was to go call for Loyal. “So,” he chuckled, “sold your friend?” and ruffled my hair. I pulled away, refusing to answer. I hadn’t slept all night, and couldn’t eat my bread and sausage for the lump in my throat. It wasn’t fun – I realized what a stupid idea it had been. No wonder Mum never liked Uncle George. “He’s daft, don’t listen to him,” she’d always say. I grabbed my schoolbag and dashed from the house. It was three blocks to that man’s house, and I ran the whole way. Loyal sat behind a tall fence, tied up with a thick rope. I called him, but he looked at me sadly, head on his paws, tail wagging, trying to bark though his voice broke. I’d sold him. He thought it was a game, but then realized I had truly sold him. The owner came out, scolded Loyal, and he tucked in his tail. I knew then it was hopeless. That evening I worked at the station carrying bags. They paid little, but it was enough. Scared, I went to the gate and knocked. The man opened the door. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want?” “Sir, I changed my mind,” I stammered, handing him the money he’d given me for Loyal. He squinted at me, took the money, and untied Loyal. “Here, lad. Take him. He’s been pining, not cut out for a guard dog – but mind, he may never forgive you.” Loyal looked at me mournfully. Our game had become a trial for us both. Then he walked over, licked my hand and pressed his nose into my stomach. Years have passed since then, but I know now: you never sell a friend, not even as a joke. And Mum was so glad: “I was exhausted yesterday, then remembered – where’s our dog? I’m used to that boy, he’s part of the family, our Loyal!” After that, Uncle George hardly ever visited. We didn’t find his jokes funny anymore.

A Sold Friend. Grandads Tale

And he understood me!
It wasnt fun, I realised it was a foolish plan.
I sold him. He thought it was a game, but later understood that Id sold him.
Times are always different for everyone. Some people long for luxury holidays, others are content with a thick slice of brown bread and a sausage.

We lived as best we could, and life brought us its ups and downs.

I was just a boy then. My uncle, Uncle William, my mums brother, gave me a sheepdog puppy, and I was over the moon. The puppy was loyal from the start, following my every word, gazing into my eyes as if waiting anxiously for my command.

“Lie down,” Id say, carefully watching him, and hed drop instantly, never shifting his eyes from mine, ready to do anything for me.

“Serve,” Id command, and hed hop to his chunky paws, tense and eager, swallowing in anticipation. He expected a treat, something delicious.

But I had nothing to spoil him with. We barely had enough to eat ourselves.

Those were tough times.

Uncle William, the one who brought me the puppy, once said to me,

“Dont worry, lad, look at himhes loyal, faithful through and through. Why dont you sell him, then, once paid, call him back? Hell come running. No one will see. Youll have a bit of cash, buy yourself and your mum some treatsand for him, too. Trust your uncle, I know what Im talking about.”

I liked the idea at the time. I didnt think it was so bad. After all, an adult suggested itit was just a laugh, and Id be able to bring something home.

I whispered in Loyals warm, shaggy ear that Id hand him over but then call him back, telling him to come to me and slip away from strangers.

And he understood me!
He gave a short bark as if to promise hed do just that.

The next day, I put him on his lead and took him to the train station. People sold everything thereflowers, cucumbers, apples.

Once the train pulled in, the crowd poured out and buyers bustled about, hunting for bargains.

I stepped forward with my pup by my side. But no one came up to us at first.

Most people had gone already, but then a man with a stern face strode over.

“What are you doing here, lad, waiting for someone, or maybe looking to sell that dog? Good, sturdy pupIll take him off your hands.” He pressed a handful of pound notes into my palm.

I handed him the lead. Loyal looked around, gave a cheery little sneeze.

“Go on, Loyal, off you go, my friend,” I whispered, “Ill call you, you come running.” And off Loyal trotted with the man, while I hid and followed, wanting to know just where my friend would end up.

That evening, I came home with bread, sausage and a bag of sweets. Mum eyed me sharply.

“Where did you get these, then? You havent been nicking, have you?”

“No, Mum. Honestly, I helped carry some luggage at the station, that’s all.”

“Good lad,” she sighed, “eat up, lets get some sleep, Im worn out.”

She didnt even ask about Loyalshed never grown attached.

Uncle William dropped by the next morning. I was shoving my books in my satchel, itching to run and call Loyal back.

“So, you sold your mate, eh?” he laughed, ruffling my hair. I shrugged him off and didnt answer.

I hadnt slept at all, Id not touched the bread or sausage; they wouldnt go down.

It wasnt fun, I realised it was a foolish plan.
No wonder Mum wasnt keen on Uncle William.

“Hes not wise, dont you listen to him,” she always told me.

I grabbed my bag and dashed out.

It was three streets away, and I sprinted them flat out.

Loyal sat behind a tall fence, tied with a thick rope.

I called him, but he just gazed at me, head resting on his paws, wagging his tail a little, trying to bark, but his voice broke.

Id sold him. Hed thought it was a joke, but he could see nowId really sold my friend.
Then the new owner came into the yard and barked at Loyal. Loyal tucked his tail, and I knew Id made a terrible mistake.

That evening, I went back to station, carrying bags for travellers for a few coins, until Id earned back the money Id been paid. Trembling, I knocked at the garden gate. The man answered:

“Oh, its you, what do you want here?”

“SirpleaseIve changed my mind,” I managed, holding out the money hed given me for Loyal. He looked at me, then without a word, took the cash and untied the rope.

“Go on, take him,” he said, “he pines for you. Hes no guard dog. Mind you, he might never forgive you, lad.”

Loyal stared at me with mournful eyes.

The game had turned into a real test for us both.

In the end, he padded over and gave my hand a lick, nuzzling his nose into my belly.

Many years have passed since, but I learned that you must never, even as a joke, sell a friend.

Mum was delighted when I brought Loyal home.

“I was so tired last night, but later, I wonderedwheres our dog gone? Ive grown fond of him, hes one of us, our Loyal!”

Uncle William didnt come by so much after thathis jokes were never as welcome again.

There are some things in life you just cannot trade away, and true friendship is the rarest of them all.