The Friend I Sold: Granddad’s Tale And He Understood Me! It Wasn’t Fun—That Was a Foolish Idea, I Realised. I Sold Him. He Thought It Was a Game, but Then Knew I’d Sold Him. Times Have Always Been Different for Everyone—For Some, All-Inclusive Isn’t Much, While Others Long for Fresh Brown Bread with a Bit of Sausage. So We Lived Our Own Way—We Had Our Ups and Downs. I Was Just a Little Lad Then. My Uncle Dave Gave Me a Shepherd Puppy, and I Was Over the Moon. The Pup Clung to Me, Understood Every Word, Gazed Into My Eyes and Waited, Always Waiting for My Next Command. “Lie Down,” I’d Say After a Pause, and He’d Drop to the Floor, Eyes Fixed on Me, Ready to Lay Down His Life if I Asked. “Serve,” I’d Command, and the Pup Would Hop Up on His Chubby Paws, Eagerly Awaiting His Reward—A Juicy Treat. But There Was Nothing to Treat Him With. We Could Barely Feed Ourselves Back Then. That’s How It Was. Uncle Dave, Mum’s Brother—The One Who Gave Me the Pup—Once Told Me, “Don’t Worry, Lad. Look At Him—Loyal and True. Just Sell Him, Then Call Him Back. He’ll Escape to You—No One Will See. At Least You’ll Have Some Money For Treats—You, Your Mum, and Even the Dog. Trust Me, Lad, I Know What I’m Saying.” I Liked the Idea. I Didn’t Know Any Better Then—A Grown-Up Suggested It, Must Have Been a Harmless Trick, and I’d Get Goodies. I Whispered Into Faithful’s Fluffy Ear That I’d Pretend to Give Him Away, But Then I’d Call for Him to Run Back to Me. And He Understood Me! He Barked, as If to Say He’d Do Just That. Next Day, I Put On His Lead and Took Him Down to the Train Station, Where People Sold All Sorts—Flowers, Cucumbers, Apples. As Folks Poured Off the Train, They Began Browsing and Haggling. I Stepped Forward and Pulled Faithful Along, But No One Came Near. Nearly Everyone Had Passed When a Stern-Looking Man Approached: “You Waiting for Someone, Son? Or Looking to Sell Your Pup? That’s a Fine Dog—Alright, I’ll Take Him.” He Slipped Money Into My Hand. I Handed Over the Lead; Faithful Looked Round, Sneezed Cheerfully. “Go On, Faithful, Off You Go, Mate—I’ll Call You Back,” I Whispered, and He Went Off with the Stranger. I Hid and Followed to See Where My Mate Was Taken. That Evening, I Brought Home Bread, Sausage, and Sweets. Mum Looked Sternly: “Where’d You Get That—Steal It?” “No, Mum, I Just Helped Carry Bags at the Station.” “Well Done, Son. Eat Up and Off to Bed. I’m Worn Out.” She Didn’t Even Ask about Faithful—She Never Cared Much for Him. Uncle Dave Came Round the Next Morning. I Was About to Head Out, Though I Really Wanted to Fetch Faithful. “So, Sold Your Friend?” He Chuckled, Ruffling My Hair. I Shrugged Away, Didn’t Answer. I Hadn’t Slept. The Bread and Sausage Sat in My Throat. It Wasn’t Fun. I Realised How Foolish It Had Been. No Wonder Mum Didn’t Like Uncle Dave. “He’s Daft, Don’t Listen to Him,” She’d Always Say. I Grabbed My School Bag and Ran Out. The House Was Three Blocks Away—I Ran the Whole Way. Faithful Sat Behind a High Fence, Tied With a Thick Rope. I Called Him, but He Just Laid His Head On His Paws and Wagged His Tail—Trying to Bark, But His Voice Broke. I’d Sold Him. He Thought It Was a Game, but Then He Knew I’d Sold Him. His New Owner Came Out, Gave Faithful a Stern Look—He Tucked His Tail. I Knew It Was All Over. That Evening, I Helped Carry Bags at the Station. They Didn’t Pay Much, But I Managed to Earn Enough. Heart Thumping, I Knocked on the Gate. The Familiar Man Opened: “Oh, It’s You, Lad—What Do You Want?” “Mister, I Changed My Mind—Here’s Your Money Back.” I Handed Over the Cash. The Man Squinted, Took the Money, and Untied Faithful: “Go On, Lad, Take Him—He’s Been Pining. He’ll Never Make a Guard Dog. Just Know—He Might Not Forgive You.” Faithful Looked at Me, Crestfallen. The Game Had Become a Trial For Us Both. Then He Came Up, Licked My Hand, and Nudged Me. Many Years Have Passed, But I Learned This: Never, Even in Jest, Do You Sell a Friend. And Mum Was Well Chuffed: “I Was So Tired Yesterday—But Then I Thought: Where’s Our Dog? I’ve Gotten Used to That Pup—He’s Ours, Faithful!” Uncle Dave Doesn’t Visit Much Now—His Tricks Weren’t Very Funny to Us.

A Sold Friend. A Granddads Tale

And he understood me!
It wasnt fun at all, and I soon realised it was a foolish thing to do.
I sold him. He thought it was a game at first, and then he realised Id sold him.

Times, I suppose, are always different for everyone. For some, even a five-star holiday seems stingy, while others are content with a decent slice of bread and a bit of cheddar.

We each lived through our struggles in our own way.

I was very little back then. My uncle, Uncle George, Mums brother, gave me a Border Collie puppy as a gift, and I was over the moon. The puppy clung to me instantly, understood every word, gazed up at me with bright eyes, waiting eagerly for my next command.

Lie down, Id say, and after a pause, hed flatten himself to the ground, staring up at me with devotion, prepared to do anything for my approval.

Sit, Id command, and the puppy would pop up on his sturdy, chunky legs, tail wagging nervously. He waited, hoping for a treat, something tasty as a reward.

But I didnt have anything to spoil him with. We were struggling to put food on our own plates.

Thats how things were then.

Uncle George, the one whod given me the puppyhis name was Loyalsaid to me one day,

Dont be down, lad. Look how faithful he is, how devoted. Here, why dont you sell him? Then, later, you can call him; hell come running back to you anyway. No one will even notice. Youll have a few pounds in your pocketbuy yourself a treat, and something for your mum and Loyal too. Trust your uncle; I know what Im on about.

I liked the idea. I didnt really think it was wrong at the timean adult suggested it, it felt like a joke, and Id get some sweets as well.

I whispered into Loyals warm, furry ear, telling him Id hand him over, but then call for him to come running back to me, away from the strangers.

And he understood me!
He gave a little bark, almost as if saying, Alright, Ill do it.

Next day, I put his lead on and took him to the train station, where people came to buy and sell all sortsflowers, cucumbers, apples.

The crowd flooded off the train, everyone haggling and shopping.

I stepped forward, pulling Loyal along, but no one came over.

The platform cleared, but then a rather stern-looking man approached.

You there, lad, waiting for someone or looking to sell your dog? Seems like a fine pup. Ill take him, go on then. He pressed some pounds into my palm.

I handed over Loyals lead. The dog looked around, wagged his tail, and sneezed cheerfully.

Go on, Loyal, off you go, mate, I whispered, Ill call you, and you come running, alright? He trotted off with the man and I kept to the shadows, watching where they went.

That evening, I brought home bread, sausage, and a bar of chocolate. Mum looked at me sternly,

Did you pinch this from someone?

No, Mum, honest, just helped with some bags at the station. They paid me for it.

Well done then, son. Eat up, and let’s get to bedIm worn out.

She didnt even ask about Loyal, and, truthfully, she never really cared for the dog.

Uncle George popped in the next morning. I was getting ready for school, though really I was desperate to dash off and find Loyal, to call for him.

So, you sold your friend, did you? he chuckled and ruffled my hair. I pulled away, not answering.

I hadnt slept all night. I couldnt even touch the bread and sausage; my throat was too tight.

It was not any fun, and I realised just how ridiculous the whole scheme was.

No wonder Mum never liked Uncle George.

Hes a daft onedont listen to him, she always told me.

I grabbed my satchel and ran out.

It was a fair walkthree streets awayand I sprinted the whole way.

Loyal was sitting behind a tall fence, tied up with a thick rope.

I called out to him, but he stared back, miserable, his head on his paws, tail moving slowly, trying to bark but too hoarse to make a sound.

I sold him. He thought it was a game, but now he knew Id sold him.

Then the man came into the garden, scolding Loyal, who tucked his tail in worry. That was that.

That evening, I hauled bags at the station again. The pay was paltry, but by nightfall Id managed to earn back the amount Id got for Loyal. Heart pounding, I walked to the house and knocked. The man answered,

Oh, its you again, lad. What are you after?

Sir, pleaseIve changed my mind, I stammered and handed back the money hed paid for Loyal. He narrowed his eyes, said nothing, took the money, and untied Loyal.

Alright, you best take him, lad. Hes miserable here, wouldnt make much of a guard dog. Dont count on him forgiving you, though.

Loyal looked at me, sad and uncertain.

That silly game had turned into a hard test for both of us.

Then, slowly, Loyal shuffled over, licked my hand, and pressed his nose into my stomach.

Many years have passed since, but Ive never forgotten: you must never, not even as a joke, sell your friends.

Mum was delighted when I brought Loyal back home.

I was so tired last night, then I wondered, wheres our dog gone? I suppose hes one of us nowpart of the family, Loyal!

After that, Uncle George hardly ever visitedhis jokes just werent welcome anymore.

Sometimes, you only value friendship when you nearly lose it. That day, I learned that some things in lifeespecially friendsare more important than any treat or extra pound in your pocket.