Bonnie and Clyde

In the thick of the night, as the rain beat down from a charcoal grey sky, a rusty pickup truck pulled up alongside a grassy verge just outside the town of Babbleston. The driver's door opened and a dirty man with hobnailed boots stepped out, trudged round to the back of the truck and pulled down the tailgate.
"Come on out, the pair o' ya," he grunted.
Soaking and trembling Bonnie crept toward him from the back of the truck, her claws tapping on its corrugated floor. Behind her followed Clyde, his head resting on her smooth-coated rump, allowing her to guide him to the edge.
"Com' on. I 'aven't got all night," roared the man.
Bonnie jumped down and barked twice in quick succession, a signal to Clyde. Clyde was at the edge of the truck feeling his way before he leapt down.
A moment later the truck was gone and Bonnie and Clyde were alone on a dark country lane, standing paw deep in a swelling puddle of murky brown water.Clyde whimpered. Bonnie turned to him and licked one of his ears to reassure him she was there. She would always be there.
With nothing but the soft orange hue of the town lights to guide her, Bonnie followed the road, driving through the sheet rain, stopping every now and again to check Clyde was behind her. He was slow and unsteady on his paws, occasionally tripping over loose rocks and stumbling in potholes. But she would never leave him. She knew he wouldn't survive without her.As she trudged toward the town, keeping close to the verge, she could hear Clyde's belly gurgling over the patter of the rain and knew hunger had gripped him.
She too was hungry. It had been hours since she last ate and even then it was only scraps that her gruff owner had hurled at her; bones that had barely any meat on them. She sniffed the air deeply, hoping for a scent but all she could smell was her own damp fur and the fust of muddy rain. Inside her heart sank. What had she done wrong? Why wasn't she and Clyde wanted anymore? She didn't know. All she could do was put one paw in front of the other and take each minute as it came.
By the time she and Clyde reached the outskirts of the town the rain was lashing so hard she had to squint her eyes to keep the rain from stinging them. She guided Clyde onto a pavement to give his paws respite from walking through the rushing waters that turned the road into a river, and nudged him toward a hedgerow to give him a little shelter.
Clyde sat his rump down and whimpered. Bonnie knew what he wanted. She didn't like leaving him on his own but knew if that she wasn't there with him he wouldn't move an inch. She barked back at him and trotted down the street with her head low, sniffing the pavement for food. At times she struggled herself against the force of the wind as it whipped around her, blowing her to and fro, and she had to duck and dart out of the path of empty dustbins as they were hurled around like disgarded drinks cans. She turned the corner of the street into a dark alley and caught sight of a black bag on the roadside flapping in the breeze. Its strong mildewy scent carried though the air toward her, enveloping her with the promise of satisfaction. She cantered toward the bag and buried nose inside it, gorging on mouldy apple cores, crispy pork fat, mashed potatoes covered in ash and coffee grounds and withered carrot peelings. It was a veritable feast, like nothing she'd ever tasted before.
When she had her fill she dragged the bag along the street to where Clyde was still faithfully sat waiting for her. As soon as he sensed her approach his tail gently beat the pavement and he let out a whimpery bark.
Bonnie drew the bag up to Clyde's feet and yapped at him, telling him to eat. Clyde sniffed it languidly before turning away and curling himself up into a ball on the cold, wet pavement.
Bonnie nudged his head with her nose but he didn't move. She fished out of the bag a soft banana, some chunks of beef and a lump of mouldy bread and presented them to Clyde, dropping them in front of his nose. But Clyde wasn't interested. He closed his eyes. Bonnie knew he'd lost all hope. She stepped off the pavement and waded through the torrent of water that rushed down it, to a row of houses on the other side. One by one she walked up to the house's front door and barked and scratched at the wood, hoping to attract attention, but she was either ignored, shooed away or had objects pelted at her. It seemed the town wasn't interested in two lonely old dogs either.
Bonnie gave up. With her head low she schlepped back along the road to Clyde. But before she knew what was happening she was suddenly washed down the road by a torrent of water. The nearby river had burst its banks and was channelling itself through the streets of Babbleston, relentlessly sweeping up everything in its path, including Bonnie. She scrambled and beat with her legs, struggling to keep her head above the fast flowing rapids. Every time she took a breath her mouth filled with dirty water. As she was tossed about she could feel her energy ebb and with no knowledge of what had happened to her companion she lost the will to live. Just as she closed her eyes and let the river carry her way she felt a jolt to her neck. Her collar had caught on the railing. It held her afloat. As the waters began to subside she heard someone call out. Slowly she opened her tired eyes and saw a lady on the other side of the road wading through the water toward her. Before she knew it she was lifted up and carried to the dry land. But when the woman laid Bonnie on the ground Bonnie leapt onto her paws and barked at the woman. Her reprieve from death had given her hope that Clyde was alive. She knew she had to get to him, she knew he needed her. She cantered off, following Clyde's weak scent, with the woman trailing behind he and she she rounded a corner, Clyde's scent getting ever stronger, she spotted him. He was where she had left him, curled up beside the now sodden black bag of rubbish, dozing happily.
Bonnie stopped at his side and licked his head. He lifted his chin and nuzzled against her, grateful that she was by his side once more. The woman, who had followed Bonnie all the way, saw her and Clyde both sodden and dejected.
"My goodness, you two are both wet through. You'd both best come with me and I'll get you warm and some good food in you," she said and slapped her thigh, urging Bonnie to follow her.
Bonnie barked twice at Clyde who hauled himself up and rested his chin on Bonnie's back. With Clyde safely in tow, Bonnie knew he'd be okay, and her as well.