The Story of a Boy and His Dog

Reprinted from The Owego Owl, 1961

Owego probably boasts no greater booster of children and young people than Mrs. Tillie Mallory. Practically all of her civic activities are aimed towards their benefit. She is the first to defend them when they are criticized, the first to sympathize with them in their troubles and problems, and the first to encourage greater opportunities for recreation and profitable leisure time for them. So when she dashed off a letter to us the other day about a story she says she “had to get off my chest”, we read it with great interest. It’s typical of the understanding Tillie possesses. Here it is…
“All too often we hear adults say ‘Kids no longer seem to respect and trust their elders’. Perhaps children are thinking ‘Why can’t older folks respect us and teach us trust?’ This is a true story and perhaps is a key to children’s rejection of adults.
“Last Saturday a boy and his little dog went for a hike. The boy is 12 years old, the little puppy was not even a half-year old, and they dearly loved each other and enjoyed things together that we grownups no longer take notice of.
“Spring was in the air. The sun shone warm on both of them as they started for ‘The Hill’. They explored all afternoon and had a wonderful time. The world was full of promise, delightful sights and smells.
“When they returned from their afternoon’s adventure, they came down a busy street. The happy, frisky little dog ran out into the road and was hit by a car. The boy stood frozen when he saw his little dog rolling under the car.
“The driver stopped (as required by law), asked the boy his name, got back into his car and drove to police headquarters where he reported it (as required by law), leaving the boy and his dog at the scene of the accident.
“Imagine, if you can, a man heartless enough to drive away without even offering to take this boy and his little dead dog to their home. Imagine, if you will, how that young boy felt, looking into the eyes of his little dying puppy, alone—with no one to comfort him, not help him to face his tragic loss.
“No one blames the man for hitting the dog. That was probably unavoidable. But what about a man who was in such a hurry that he could not help a boy in grief? I hope this man slept better that night than the boy did.
Next time I hear someone say something ‘today’s kids’, I will wonder if they ever helped a kid in need and distress.”
Thanks Tillie. I’m sure your story will cause a lot of people to pause for a few minutes of serious reflection and soul searching.

The boy buried Twinkle in his backyard. Today, Twinkle’s resting place is the backstop for a baseball field, so Twinkle gets to enjoy himself forever more as head umpire. The boy grew up to be just like his grandmother. He spent his life as a champion for children. I hope my grandchildren learn something equally as noble from me as my husband, Tim, learned from his grandmother.