The silence in my small house had grown louder with each passing year. Old and alone, the days stretched out, often indistinguishable from one another. I thought about getting a dog, a creature that would fill the emptiness, a warm presence against the encroaching quiet.
One chilly afternoon, shuffling through the familiar streets, I saw him. A small, scruffy shape huddled near a bin, dirty and clearly hungry. He looked up as I approached, his eyes wide but without fear. I knelt down slowly, offering a tentative hand. He didn’t flinch. I stroked his matted fur, spoke softly to him. When I stood up to leave, he simply followed, a silent, trusting shadow.
Now, he is my dog. My Fido. I am his human, his owner, though it feels more like we own each other. The silence is gone, replaced by the soft pad of his paws, the occasional sigh, the happy thump of his tail against the floor.
I talk to him constantly, sharing my thoughts, my worries, the mundane details of my day. He answers in his own way – a tilt of the head, a soft whine, or his favorite response, a vigorous wash of my hand with his rough tongue.
“Fido,” I’d told him just the other day, the worry etching lines deeper into my face, “tomorrow we won’t have anything to eat. The retirement money is gone, finished. We’ll have to wait until pension day!” He just licked my hand, as if to say, “We’ll figure it out, together.”
And then that blessed day arrives. I join the queue, a line of fellow retirees, each clutching their worn pension book, shattered by time and use. My own is tight in my hands, a thin lifeline. Fido, tied patiently nearby, shakes himself happily, a little dance of anticipation. He knows this day. He knows that today the bowls will be fuller, the meal a little richer, a little better than the thin gruel of the days before.
Winter arrives, wrapping the house in its cold embrace. Without a fire, the air bites. But Fido is there. Curled tightly against my legs on the worn armchair, or tucked beside me in bed, his small body is a furnace, a constant, reliable source of warmth that chases away the chill. He is more than just a dog; he is my living, breathing blanket against the cold world.
The first hesitant rays of spring find us sitting outside, bathed in the gentle warmth of the returning sun. We sit in comfortable silence, simply existing, together, grateful for the light, for the warmth, for each other. And from deep within my heart, a simple prayer is born, a quiet whisper of profound gratitude: “Thank you, Lord, for creating the dog.” For creating Fido, who found me when I was alone, and filled my life with warmth, conversation, and unwavering companionship.
Remembering Bill Hayes, actor and long-time TV star
Bill Hayes, a pivotal figure of day-time television passed away at the age of 98.
Hayes was probably best known for his portrayal of Doug Williams on Days of Our Lives since 1970, appearing in over 2,100 episodes of the show. The role of the former con artist-turned-lounge singer became one of the longest-running characters in the show’s history.
Hayes was born in Harvey, Illinois, in 1925. Before becoming an actor, he started a career of a musician and a performer, reaching a Billboard chart-topping hit with The Ballad of Davy Crockett in 1955.
In 1953, Hayes had his Broadway debut in Me and Juliet and over the course of a decade he appeared in a number of productions.
By 1970, Hayes, a divorced father of five, was hoping to land a role closer to home when he joined the cast of Days of Our Lives, a decision that would define his career and endear him to millions of viewers.
It was on set that he met the great love of his life, actress Susan Seaforth, who played Julie Williams. Their on-screen chemistry translated into real life and the two tied the knot in 1974. They stayed together until Hayes’ passing.
Speaking of the instant connection they felt when they laid eyes on each other, Seaforth once said, “I’d seen enough to know that he was special.” Others could also see their unexplained connection. “We had a scene together shortly after meeting, and the head writer saw something going on between the two of us, just two people looking at each other, and he threw out the other plot lines he had for our characters,” she added.
Hayes and Seaforth Hayes were both honored with Lifetime Achievement Awards at the 2018 Daytime Emmys for their enduring contributions to television. The couple’s acceptance speech was heartfelt, with Bill expressing gratitude for the fans who considered them part of their own lives.
Honoring Hayes, a representative for the Peacock series told The Times in a statement, “It is with a heavy heart that we share the passing of our beloved Bill Hayes. One of the longest running characters on ‘Days of our Lives,’ Bill originated the role of Doug Williams in 1970 and portrayed him continuously throughout his life. He and his wife, Susan Seaforth Hayes, remained the foundation of the Williams-Horton family spanning more than 50 years.”
“I have known Bill for most of my life and he embodied the heart and soul of ‘Days of Our Lives,’” executive producer Ken Corday said in a statement. “Although we are grieving and will miss him, Bill’s indelible legacy will live on in our hearts and the stories we tell, both on and off the screen.”
In addition to his iconic role on Days of Our Lives, Bill Hayes had other notable television appearances, including roles in Matlock and Frasier. During the 1950s and 60s, he featured in TV adaptations of popular musicals such as Kiss Me, Kate and Once Upon a Mattress. He also portrayed John Brooks in the 1958 TV movie Little Women.
The cause of Hayes’ death hasn’t been disclosed with the public.
Rest in peace, legend.
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