Pedlow The Postman




/* Style Definitions */
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;

Pedlow was an honest postman. He would not deliver lies. So the people on his route never received any junk mail. Pedlow kindly disposed of it. He didn’t throw it in the rubbish. He didn’t set it alight and burn it. He didn’t take it back to the sorting office. He took it home and made origami out of it. He made swans, boats, flowers and even animals. He transformed something that was ugly into something that was beautiful. He intercepted the bad feeling and negativity that would land on people’s doorsteps and used it to create something positive in his own life. Pedlow was a happy man. He lived alone in a small cottage with his dog Reuben. Reuben was a black and white mongrel and he was equally disgusted with the lies and deceit that filled the world.

Reuben had been owned by a little boy once. A horrible little boy who would smack Reuben for no reason. The boy’s parents were no better. They, too, kicked him and hit him. They kept him in a cold shed, tied up all the time. One day, the little boy took Reuben out of the shed. Reuben was reluctant to follow his owner. At least he was safe in the shed. But the boy commanded him with such authority that Reuben felt he had no choice but to, grudgingly, follow him to the lawn with his tail between his legs.

The boy kicked Reuben and yelled at him. Venom and malice oozing from his every pore. The pain of the kick was easier for Reuben to bear than the hateful shrill voice screaming at him with such force that Reuben felt the earth shake. After what seemed like an eternity Reuben heard the boy’s mother calling him to dinner. He lay on the grass trembling as he watched the boy skip happily to his loving family, who cared enough about him to give him something to eat. Reuben was then so overcome with anger and hurt that he got up onto his shaky, weak legs and began to walk. He walked and he walked and he walked. Eventually he was so exhausted and overcome with relief that he collapsed in a ditch by the side of the road. Reuben did not care if he died right there on that very spot, he would, at least, be dying on his own terms.

It was Pedlow who picked him up and carried him in his arms to his big red van. Pedlow wrapped him in a warm, soft blanket and patted him on the head so tenderly that Reuben did something he had never dared to do before. He looked into Pedlow’s eyes. He saw the truth and kindness all over Pedlow’s face. At that moment, he knew he had been saved.

That was a long time ago now. Reuben could barely remember the torture he had endured. Pedlow had treated him with nothing but compassion and respect so that Reuben could no longer conceive of anything else. This was his life as it should be.

It was easy for Pedlow to love his dog. Reuben never expected anything but company and maybe the odd treat every once in a while. Pedlow sometimes wished that he would find a nice, honest lady to share his conversation with. He did not, however, wish to compromise the serenity in his life by sharing it with someone who would grind him down, by putting up a facade and pretending to be someone she was not. All Pedlow wanted was truth. He found a truth in Reuben. He found a truth in his origami. These things he could count on. These things would not permeate his life with lies and deceit. Pedlow could wait for his honest woman. Perhaps he would, one day, find her and rescue her from a ditch in the side of the road.