Today was possibly one of the worst days in a long, long time. It was dreadful. It started off as a nice but breezy day, which we all like here because it gets the sun of your back. Especially when the poor men are out in the fields collecting the harvests. As the day got longer I started to feel a gut ache coming on from eating those ghastly turnips, all I could think of to get rid of it was a slug of whisky. I knew it was unlikely someone would have a drop but it was still worth a try. I heard the galloping noise of men coming back on the horses.
Once they had been back for a while and showered or whatever they do these days, I went into the bunk house and asked Slim if he had any whiskey but, sadly he didn’t. Carlson walked in and turned on the shaded light. He looked down at my dog with disgust and shrieked “God awmighty, that dog stinks. Get him outta here, Candy! I don’t know nothing that stinks as bad as an old dog. You gotta get him out. ” This hurt my feelings a lot I don’t think they understood how much that dog meant to me. They were trying to make me feel bad by saying that I was making him suffer. They wanted to shoot him.
I tried putting it off until tomorrow but Carlson wasn’t having it. I guess I was going to have to let him do it. I know I was going to regret but I murmured “Awright-take ‘im. ”. I knew otherwise they would be on my back the whole time and they promised he wouldn’t suffer, I just wanted to do what I thought was best for him. Carlson sure did take that dog as if he was nothing. I didn’t even feel like eating, drinking, talking I just sat there feeling guilty for what I had just let Carlson do. I had him since he was a pup you know; he was herding sheep all over the place. BANG! The deafening roar of the noise went right through me.
He was gone. I slowly rolled over and faced the wall in disappointment of why I wasn’t man enough to shoot him myself. I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. He seemed like my only true friend and the only one I could rely on. I could trust him with anything I always used to tell him my secrets. This was all I could think about, just him and nothing else. Why can’t life just be a continuous thrill? Why do bad things need to happen? They just thought he was useless and a waste of space. How would they like it if they were old and couldn’t do much so someone said lets shoot them just because there old?
I’ve let my best friend down and now there is nothing I can do about it, im going to have to live with this decision for the rest of my remaining life. The next day I overheard Lennie and George talking in the bunk house, about buying a house with a few acres. It had a windmill, a chicken run, a kitchen, an orchard, a pig pen and so much more. Lennie seemed to be getting really excited about George building him some hutches for his rabbits to go. Then he went on to say about how when the salmon swim upstream they can catch them and have smoked salmon, every Sunday kill a chicken or a rabbit to have for Sunday dinner.
Lennie was watching George as he spoke about what seemed to be a fantasy. I asked George if he knows of a place like this, he didn’t seem too eager to tell me but I wasn’t too bothered. “I was just wondering how much a place like that costs. ” 600 bucks he said for a place like that, now that’s what you call a bargain. “Well I’ve got 350 bucks I could give you that if you let me come with you I’m no good here I’ve only got one hand, what do you say? ” He had a little think but he then agreed I could come with them. We worked out that we would be outta this place within a month.