Little Dog

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Little Dog
Fifty years have gone past, so I regret that little detail remains in this weary head, but I will do my best.
We were heading into Port La Cruz, Venezuela, I do remember going through the Maracaibo Lakes to get there, in particular I remember constant course changes, perhaps it was a buoyed channel. I was at the wheel for much of the day, by the time we were tied up alongside I was exhausted. We had an evening meal, I sat outside, unwinding from the turmoil of the day, the rest of the crew had hit their bunks, all the shore staff were gone. The peaceful scene had a minor interruption, a dog appeared at the far end of the wharf, soon followed by another, then another, until a pack of twenty were rummaging for what ever the day had left behind.
At this point my eye was drawn to one dog, not the largest there, about 35 pounds, looked a bit like a fox terrier, except bigger. What made him different was that where ever he went the others stepped aside, he was the boss dog. The other thing that stood out was on one side of the face the flesh was missing around the mouth, it gave the look of bared teeth all the time, even from the ship it look an old wound., a tough looking cookie.
Thoughts of our dinner on board made me think of the contents of the rubbish bin, we had chops, the dogs would love the bone I thought so went for the bucket. First attempt failed, my throw fell short, the bone went in the harbour. Not wishing to waste more I headed midships and went down the gangway.
So there I am on the wharf, a bucket of food and around twenty dogs heading my way in a hurry, for a moment or so I knew real fear, by the time I had emptied the bucket I was surrounded, then the discipline of the pack came into play, the little dog came over and they all stood back. In the meantime I am backing up to the gangway. Little dog sat at my feet with a choice bone, it was hard to believe, he looked up to me as if he had spent his entire life by my side, I wondered, did I remind him of a person he once knew.
With caution, I started patting him, he pushed himself onto my hand, obviously feeling very comfortable with me. We sat for ages, I talked and he looked up like he understood every word, I said to him "Another time, another place and we would have been lifelong buddies" By then the pack were out of sight, he stood, looked at me and moved on.
We were back at sea the next day and almost a year was to pass before my return. As we headed into port I remembered the little dog and thought I must look out for him. The end of the day and once more I found myself looking down on the wharf, as before the pack came and went, but no little dog.
As I stood there looking down, day turning to dusk, there he was, at the end of the gangway, I ran midships, down the gangway, as I stepped ashore him 1 yard away, he disappeared. There was no place he could have gone, I had to accept he was no longer among the living, I felt dreadfully sad, but only for a moment, then I realized it was his way of telling me he was still around and he was waiting.
That was a long time ago, but recently he keeps coming into my thoughts, I think we will be reunited soon.