The Pup and The Scarf

Chapter One

Sitting all alone on a bench was a lonely old scarf. Abandoned by many and ignored by others. No one really cared for this particular scarf, as one normally wouldn't after passing by an old bench on a street corner. A little spec in a world full of business, no one seemed to notice him at all.One day a lonely little dog by the name of Jeff comes wandering along to see the red and yellow striped scarf laying all alone on a bench by himself, with no one in sight around. Jeff had never been down this particular route before, though something seemed to draw his attention down this road today. Looking once more at the lonely scarf, he remembers the times when he was all alone, without his pup family. Sitting alone in a field full of green grass didn't seem like the dream it once was when his family weren't there. He decides to take a leap of courage and talk to the lonely old scarf.
"Hey buddy, what's the long face for?" He says in a chipper mood. Its's quite a nice day today. Clear sky, sun shining just the right amount, and the aroma of hot dogs from a nearby stand seems to brighten the street up nicely. The scarf looks at the cheerful pup with his long face and dreary eyes and says,
"I don't feel so well today. Not as bright as young as I used to be." Jeff comes a little closer to the sad little scarf, he notices half of it is hanging off the edge while the rest lay flat on the bench seat. The end of the scarf almost seemed to be touching the ground with its tassels.
"Well that's okay." He starts, "We're not all as young as we used to be. After all, I used to be only 3 years old. Now I'm three and a half! I have made big progress I would say" He says pumping up his chest and looking proudly at his reflection in a nearby rain puddle. Though taking a glance at the sad old scarf reminds him of why he spoke. "Everything grows old sometime." He continues, trying to keep the tone upbeat to cheer up the old scarf.
"We all have our own time ya know?" Jeff was in a particularly good mood this morning, but the old scarf didn't seem to mirror the same tone. He continues to frown and brings his eyes to the ground.
"I don't know," he sighs, "Maybe I'm just not as good as I used to be. My owner threw me out. Left me here on this old bench to rot away in the autumn sun, for my fabric to come undone, to be old and discolored." A small silence falls on the two of them while Jeff tries to think of something to say. He is usually quite good at talking. Does it all the time, even to the leaves passing by sometimes. He doesn't know if they appreciate his company, but he likes to think they do. For a second he doesn't know what to say. Then, the most brilliant idea comes upon him. He looks up at the old scarf and says,
"I know exactly what you need. Do you like autumn? The season is starting to change and I know just what to get you! I'll be right back!" He rushes off around the corner, where the old scarf can no longer see him, leaving him alone on the bench. Though Jeff was gone only for a second, it felt like an eternity, and loneliness was already starting to settle in. Too used to being alone, the company had felt nicer than he could have imagined. Just as he started to want the pup back, a little brown face bursts around the corner. What a lucky day for no one to be walking by, they would have surely been tripped by his speed, sometimes Jeff gets a little too excited and forgets where he is. As he turns around the corner, he is carrying a brown little cup with a small opening on the top where some brown liquid seems to be spilling. At first, the scarf doesn't know what it is, but his memory returns to him in the blink of an eye and he remembers this cup to be the warm drink the humans use on cold days. Sweet and brown with white floating balls on top. He has seen this many times before but has never been close enough to try one. What excitement he feels as the day has finally come.The pup rushes over to the scarf, spilling the beverage left and right, and places it down on the bench next to the old scarf.
"Careful there kid you're going to spill it! I don't need more to ruin my already worn out strings." He says looking down at himself. The pup backs up, "Sorry, sometimes I get a little too excited. The sweet smell makes my tail wag a little too hard." He says cheerfully looking back at his skinny little tail wagging back and forth. "Have you ever had one of these before? They're really good! I once found some on the floor while walking by a humans table! Oh the taste was so heavenly!" He looks back at the scarf, but continues to see a frown on his face. "Do you have a name old chap?" Jeff says, while tending to a scratch behind his ear."A name? Do scarf's have names? I don't think so. I was never important enough to have a name anyway." He says, his voice lowering an octave as he remembers how long he has been on this poor bench.
"Oh my friend, my friend! What a wonderful thing it is to have a name! We must give you one." Jeff says eagerly, his eyes lighting up. He loves embarking on new adventures and challenges, and this seemed like the perfect one. "I'm sure you had one before, you probably just forgot it by now, being old and all. I've heard memory loss is a thing wrinkly people get, but you don't seem too wrinkly to me." The pup says with the same chipper tone in his voice. The scarf continues to say nothing, trying to reflect on his life before. So the pup continues on with his propaganda, "How about... Steve!"
"No..." The scarf says with a mumble. Disconnected in from the moment, the Old Scarf trying to remember his what his life used to be like before all of this. His eyes shift to the ground once more.
"Hm... how about Barry!"
"No..."
"Jumba?"
No..."
"Karl?" The two continue on like this for a few minutes. Somehow Jeff doesn't know when to stop, sometimes he has a hard time picking up on things. Eventually, the old scarf begins to find fun in this little pups game. A smile starts to form on his red and yellow striped face and even a little chuckle seems to find it's way out. "You really want a name for me?" He says, with a bit of amusement in his voice.
"Well yeah, everyone's gotta have a name. Its one of the most important things in the world!" Exclaims the pup.
"How about Bob." The old scarf says, a slight smile across his face. The name reminds him of something just out of grasp, thought he can't quite remember what it is.
"Bob? You like the name Bob?" The pup says quite confused, his eyebrows furrowed. He's never liked the name before, it makes him think of an an old man with a gray beard working on wooden toys.
"What you don't like it?" The scarf says with a little more amusement in his voice. He's starting to enjoy the company of this little one, it seems he has forgotten how long it's been to have a young soul nearby. Jeff clears the confusion and resumes his chipper beat, "Oh no, I mean it's great! It just makes me think of an old man making wooden toys." He says. Bob the scarf sighs once more and stares up at the sky.
"My boy used to have wooden toys..." He says. "Wooden trains were his favorite."
"Wooden toys?" Says the pup. "Those are my favorite! I always liked the way they taste. A little salty here and there with a bit of tree bark on the side." The scarf begins to smile as the pup goes on,
"Wait a minute, your boy? What's that?" Bob looks delightfully at Jeff. "You don't know what a boy is? Being a pup you should know all about it!" It's Jeff's turn to look at the ground as he recalls his loneliness once more. Bob picking up on this, diverts the conversation to lift his spirits."Ah no need little one, all in time." As the pup looks up at the scarf, his big blue eyes remind him of the young boy he used to accompany. Within a seconds time, all his memory came flooding back and his soul begins to feel more alive than what it was before. A hint of excitement flutters in his knitted fabric as he recalls an old story that came to mind. "Come sit little pup, let me tell you a long lost story..." The pup jumps on top of the bench, his light brown fur gleaming in the sun light, his ears flopping as he lands. Sadness has seemed to escape him and his chipper old self is back to normal. "I like stories!" He says with wide, gleaming eyes. "The frogs at the pond tell me them all the time! Though it can be hard to understand them with their ribbits every now and then." Bob smiles and closes his eyes. He misses hearing a young boy talk like this. With his eyes closed he can feel the cool breeze brush over his old and worn fabric. For a moment, he remembers what it was like to be young and happy, just like this pup. 

With that in mind, he starts his story.