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Love is free
E-mails are the in-things these days. The only mails I get in my letter box, which is nailed onto my gate, are bills – water bills, electricity bills and telephone bills.
This is quite unlike my e-mail Inbox which is filled each day with letters from friends, juicy information from sources, such as the one I got recently about someone trying to bribe a police officer, and of course those that are trying to sell me something or the other.
Unlike my physical letter box, I do also get a lot of unsolicited mail. Featuring prominently are mails from confidence-tricksters trying to dupe me into revealing personal information by falsely informing me that I had won some lottery.
And of course there are the frequent letters by imposters who write that they are widowed or trusted attorney of some corrupt dictator who has a few million that he wants me to keep for him in return for a percentage of the sum. Of course a request is made for details of my bank book.
I am too old and too smart to fall for those cons and whenever I see a recipient that I do not recognise my hand hits the delete key faster than the ticking of a clock.
Recently, I have been receiving quite a few mails with touching stories. More often than not I take an initial read of the first two sentences and then hit the Delete button.
As of late, however, I have found myself drawn to these heart-warming stories which are very touching.
Glenn Lall, the publisher of this newspaper, seems also drawn to these stories since he has been sending me quite a few recently. I do not know whether he is becoming sentimental in his old age.
I, however, found one of the stories that he sent me this week extremely inspirational and I would like today to share it with you my readers, just as how so many of these stories are shared with me.
I think the story makes a point of how much of a difference we can make if only we act out of love. I hope that this story will help all who read it, to really think hard as to the fact that we can make a big difference by simply changing the angle from which we approach a situation.
Here goes:
A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the four pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard.
As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”
“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, “These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer.
“I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?” “Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. “Here, Dolly!” he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.
As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly, another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller.
Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up. “I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.”
With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers.
In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.
Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”
With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully he handed it to the little boy.
“How much?” asked the little boy. “No charge,” answered the farmer, “There’s no charge for love.”
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