The Hug

THE HUG

by

Chris T. Hansen

Unpublished copyright 1988

Once upon a time, but really not too long go, there was a pig named Sam. Sam was in his early 30s in man’s years and had become a successful writer. He had had many of his articles published in some of the world’s best known magazines. Just a few years back he had won the best freelance non-news story award for his story ‘The Lesson’ which had been published in his syndicated column that he was now writing.

Sam had accomplished many things in life especially for a pig. He had become a successful writer, had become accepted by man, traveled, gave lectures and had even had a book on the best seller list but Sam wasn’t really happy. Oh, he had his days and his moments, but these moments were only temporary. You see, Sam lived in a house that Mr. MacGregor had built for him and was there when Sam had become famous.

But Sam really wasn’t lonely either. He had friends, many of them, and Mr. MacGregor, well, if it hadn’t been for him, Sam knew he wouldn’t be where he was today.

Mr. MacGregor had met Sam when he was still in high school. At that time Mr. MacGregor was going through some of his own struggles in life as was Sam but when they met, they became good friends, best friends really, and when Sam had been kicked out of his pig city, Mr. MacGregor had offered to build a place where Sam could live on his poperty. Yes, Mr. MacGregor was Sam’s best friend.

Still, there was something missing in Sam’s life, and he had made up his mind to find out what that was and correct it if possible.

“Sam,” Mr. MacGregor called from the back steps early one morning. “Oh, Sam, its time to wake up.”

Sam stirred and remembered it was Tuesday and Mr. MacGregor would be leaving for Chicago later that afternoon. He had better go say goodbye. He stuck his head out of the door, took a deep breath of the late summer morning air and then joyfully kicked his heels in the air and trotted over to Mr. MacGregor. He sat down on the porch and Mr. MacGregor began to give Sam his brushing.

“That really feels good Mr. MacGregor,” Sam said.

Even though Sam and Mr. MacGregor had been friends for so many years, it was difficult to call him anything but Mr. MacGregor.

“I have an itch on my back.”

“Here?” asked Mr. MacGregor.

“Nope, nope, lower, lower, right there” he replied. “Man that feels good.” And so the brushing went just like it did many a time before.

“Thanks again, Mr. MacGregor,” Sam said. “What time are you leaving today?”

“Plane leaves at 10.”

“So you will be gone for three weeks, huh? What will I do without you?′

“You’ll do just fine, Sam” Mr. MacGregor replied. Sam knew that he would. He really didn’t have any doubts. But Mr. MacGregor was very good to him and without all the care and companionship for three weeks, life would be difficult.

“You have a wonderful time. Enjoy your trip and call me if you get an opportunity or at least write.”

“Will do,” replied Mr. MacGregor.

“Goodbye. See you when you get back,” Sam said as he got up to leave. He returned to his house, got ready for work and then was off.

When Sam returned home from work that evening, he prepared himself dinner, ate, and then decided he would go play the piano in Mr. MacGregor’s house. It had been quite some time since he had had the opportunity to play. He sat down to play. He played for just a few minutes before he realized that Mr. MacGregor was not there. It just isn’t the same, Sam thought. He played for a little longer and then returned home to go to bed.

The weeks passed and Sam continued his rough and tiring daily routine. One Friday as he returned, Sam plopped into the chair. He was tired and felt exhausted. It is time for a walk to the forest Sam thought. I shall go Sunday afternoon.

When Sam needed to think, needed to get away from anything or wanted to be alone, he would always prefer a walk in the forest. It had been there that he and Mr. MacGregor had first met. He had gone there many times before and found himself a very nice spot along the stream that ran through the forest.

The stream was very small and was lined with many trees. This area was nestled in the bottom of a large open meadow. No one would have thought that inside the forest there was such a large open area Sam thought.

Sam would go and sit on the sandy edge and toss pebbles into the water. Sometimes he would stick his feet in the water but more often than not, the water was too cold and he would quickly pull them out and shudder.

Sam loved to go his spot along the stream. It reminded him of earlier years, those years back home when he was growing up. He remembered how a stream just like this one ran through his hometown. He remembered sneaking out of the house in the early evening to go listen to the stream as it trickled over the stones creating its own kind of music. How relaxing it was. He remembered hearing the crickets, and the leaves rub against one another in the wind in harmony with the water.

He also remembered how this wonderful, peaceful, serene feeling would lull him to sleep and before he knew it, many hours had passed and he would have to hurry home.

It was on a Sunday evening just before sundown that Sam arrived at the bridge over the stream in the forest. It had been quite a walk so he stopped for a rest. He hadn’t been there long when he heard someone coming from the opposite side of the bridge. He looked up to see a man walking toward him. The man passed, then stopped at the edge of the bridge.

“You look familiar,” stated the man, “aren’t you,” he said trying to come up with Sam’s name.

“Sam.” Sam spoke up. “The name is Sam.”

“That’s right,” replied the man. “My name is Tabb.” Bending down near Sam he offered his hand. Sam lifted his front leg and shook the man’s hand. “Lovely evening,” continued Tabb.

“Certainly is,” Sam then continued, “You know I just love coming out here. It reminds me of home where I grew up. We had a stream right along the house just like this one. “Isn’t peaceful, relaxing?” asked Sam.

“Sure is,” answered Tabb. “That’s why I am here. It takes away all my trials at least for a while.”

“I have a special spot right over there,” Sam said pointing. “When I need to go clear my mind, that is where I go.”

“Would you like to go there now?” asked Tabb.

“Sure,” Sam said.

The two of them started across the bridge towards Sam’s spot. When they reached it Tabb stood back while Sam walked to the edge of the stream.

“Something wrong, Sam?” Tabb asked as he walked over to Sam.

“Not really, but it is just that I miss Mr. MacGregor. He is my friend and I live in his backyard. He is on vacation and will be gone for another week.”

Tabb stepped closer to Sam and sat down. He reached his hands over the back of Sam’s neck and started rubbing his neck. This startled Sam but he sat here letting Tabb rub his neck.

“Oh that feels good,” Sam said.

“Come over here and sit closer.” Tabb stated. “Then you can tell me more about yourself.”

Sam moved over and sat down. Tabb continued rubbing Sam’s neck and Sam continued his story. He told Tabb about growing up, going to school, meeting Mr. MacGregor and about winning his national award.

“But still there is something missing,” continued Sam. Then he stopped. As he looked up he saw the first star of the evening. “Peaceful, isn’t it,” Sam said. “See the star?”

Tabb looked up to see the star. “Yes it is,” he replied. Then he put his arms around Sam and gave him a big hug.

“You don’t mind do you?” asked Tabb. “Just felt the urge to hug someone.”

Sam didn’t mind. It had felt good to him.

“Feels good to me,” Sam said.

“Feels good to me too.” Tabb continued, looking back at the star.

Again, like always when Sam came to his spot time had hurried on.

“Gosh it is getting late,” Sam spoke. “Where has the time gone. I must be going.”

Sam got up to leave.

“Would you mind if I give you a lift home?” asked Tabb.

“Not at all. Thank you!” Sam replied. They started back toward town.

When Sam got home he went right to bed. The visit to the forest had been just what he had needed. It had relaxed him, helped him forget most of his troubles. He laid down but couldn’t go to sleep. He kept hearing those words over and over again. “Feels good to me, feels good to me.” He rolled over. That didn’t work. He put his head under the pillow yet he could still hear Tabb speaking “feels good to me too.”

Then with a start he sat up. He now realized what his life was missing. He needed someone to love, someone to love him, someone closer than his best friend, Mr. MacGregor. He would begin a search for that someone immediately.

Sam waited anxiously at the door for Mr. MacGregor to return home. As he heard the car pull up, Sam ran to the piano and began to play.

“Oh, Sam,” Mr. MacGregor said. “Its good to be home and it is so good to hear you play the piano.”

Sam looked over at Mr. MacGregor and smiled. He was happy to see Mr. MacGregor. Mr. MacGregor walked over to Sam, put his arms around him and gave him a big hug.

“Oh that feels good,” Sam said with tears in his eye.

“Feels good to me, too, Sam.”

It seems odd, but I was over to the park the other evening just about sundown. There is a stream running there, you know. I lay down and closed my eyes and listened to the water as it sang its happy song, “feels good to me,” it said, “feels good to me too!”