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When Jake was a young dog, he'd won a trophy. His coat was the healthiest, he was alert, and full of strength and energy.

When Jake was young it almost seemed as if he could see in colors...or what seemed to be many more shades than now…

Maybe memories lie though.

Many people had cheered for him as he strode down the carpeted aisle…his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his tail leaping from side to side.

Jake had felt something inside that day...a calmness…and a loving feeling. He would never remember that day again, least of all think back on it in reflection.

Sometimes at night Jake would sit his old body heavily on the floor and stare at his trophy as if in thought. His friend would notice this…and it would make him sad.

Jake was an old dog now, and there was something awfully sad about youth being dead and nothing but old forgotten memories. Especially for an innocent friend.

Sometimes Jake took walks. These days, his seeing and hearing were bad.

Jake did seem to notice that the colors were gone now. Cars would pass, and on instinct Jake's body would tense up as if he was about to leap…but Jake could no longer leap. He no longer wagged his tail with enthusiasm.

It was evening now and Jake ate his dog food. He was happy to see his bowl filled high for him this day. His back hurt, so he sat to eat it. He did this too without noticing.

And even though Jake didn't notice the things he once did, he still missed them.

Jake's eyes always seemed to be crying.

As Jake ate this night, he cocked his ears on instinct. Once, many years before, his brothers and sisters had all dove into the bowl to get something to eat. Jake wanted so badly to be first…

He listened for them now.

Had he been a hero once?

It was very dark in the room. Jake stood from his bowl and shambled into the hallway. His blanket and ball lay there. He stared at his old ball.

He wondered if he should do something with it. It looked so familiar to him. He stared…
A small noise escaped him and he laid his head on his blanket. He closed his eyes and felt his body rest.

In the far bedroom, the old man cried.

He missed his family. He missed his wife. He missed a lot of things. His sobbing was almost holy, as it was for good things lost but not forgotten.

He looked at his hands, which were large and old. He closed his eyes.

Long ago, he gave prayers with his wife in this very bedroom.

The night outside was soft and still. The air was heavy with silence... somewhere out there would be a smile or a wink. Somewhere out there was a young man in love.

Simon thought of this and smiled. He missed nights like this with his wife.

The bed was cool and seemed full of tears. He lay back on the sheets. The ceiling was white, and seemed far away. Simon could feel the tracks of his tears.

Carefully, he put his hands together for what seemed like a final prayer.

"Thank you God for my wife…take care of her where she is. Please make sure she doesn't forget me, because I really miss her. She always had a way to make me smile, Father. I suppose you know that she…"

Simon trailed off quietly...

He laid his head on his hands and felt such a loss in his heart. From a distance, Simon seemed to be hunched over in deep prayer, yet up close his tears were reflected by the dim light from the window.

Simon was interrupted by something touching his leg.

He looked down to see Jake.

With a graceful ease, Jake leaped onto the bed. The old man hugged him.

His dear old friend.

"Good boy," said Simon. "Thank you for coming when I needed you."

Simon looked at Jake and his heart seemed to melt at the look in the old dog's eyes. Was Jake crying? Simon would have smiled if it weren't so sincere.

Jake did notice that he had made his friend feel better. He loved him very much.
Jake would never know he had saved the old man's life by hearing his cries somehow through the darkness. Even with his ruffled old ears.

Later that night, Jake went back to his blanket.

He was very tired. He stared at the ball he used to play with in his youth. Very softly, a flicker came to his eyes.

Jake picked up the old ball and held it in his teeth. He'd never owed anything to anyone, yet still he saw rainy days…and sometimes he was sad. Sometimes he was happy too.

Laying down, Jake stared at his old trophy. He stared out the window.

He was a hero, and Jake stared at everything in deep shades of color.