Adam of the Road - Elizabeth Janet Gray

“A road’s a kind of holy thing… it brings all kinds of people and all parts of England together.”  Eleven-year-old Adam loved to travel throughout thirteenth-century England with his father, a wandering minstrel, and his dog, Nick.  But when Nick is stolen and his father disappears, Adam suddenly finds himself alone.  He searches the same roads he travelled with his father, meeting farmers, pilgrims, minstrels, priests, and thieves along the way.  Through these encounters, Adam discovers that somewhere in the crowds of people are his father and his dog.  But will Adam be able to find them and end his desperate search?  (Book jacket)

First published in 1942, this timeless tale of adventure, friendship, and self-discovery was a winner of the Newberry Medal.  Upon finishing the book, I immediately thought it might as well have been the precursor to Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, only this is for younger readers. 

I loved Adam immediately.  He knew what he wanted from life – he was a minstrel, born and bred.  He couldn’t tolerate the thought of becoming anything else.  And so, stuck in an Abbey school where his father left him for some learning and bored out of his mind, he arranges for a way to sneak out and visit his faithful beloved spaniel, Nick.  One day, his father (undoubtedly the best minstrel in all the world, thinks Adam) comes back to get him, and he’s sure to become a real minstrel now that he, his father, and Nick will be on the road together at last.   Thus begins his adventures.  Songs and tales of love and adventure are learned, money earned and spent, lovely ladies and gallant knights, hard-won friendships to be made, and shady characters to be met.  Recklessly Adam’s father, Roger the minstrel, lost their war-horse Bayard in a bet to the same culprit who eventually will steal his Nick.  Sorely grieved by the loss of his dog, Nick goes after the man, and loses his father in the process – now he is truly alone.  But there is no choice but to keep going and soon he realizes that to a minstrel, the road is as good a home as any home could be.    Filled with music, wit, life’s wisdom, and beautifully illustrated, I absolutely recommend this book to one and all.  

Dog days

I just love my dogs.  Such adorable darlings.  

Baraq, 3 years old

Hachi, 1 year old

Baraq, 3 years old

Hachi, 1 year old



My Lucky Dog

How do you measure the value of eleven years? He came into my life in 1995. I knew I would love him for the rest of my life from the very moment I laid my eyes on him. It was simply that kind of magic.

My dog, Axel, died recently. The eleven years he’d been my dog don’t seem to have lasted very long. I can still remember him as a puppy, arriving at our house in a cramped wood box with tape around his little snout to silence him, and smelling of nervous puppy pee. He probably peed himself on his flight to Manila from Masbate. Yes, he had to be flown here from the provinces. Pretty radical way to get a puppy, but I guess he’s a lucky little dog; or maybe I’m the lucky dog to have had him flown to me from so far away. We named him partly from Axl Rose and partly from a comic book character from Funny Komiks.

The best times were when we’d sit under the porch light, he and I, and that’s it. Most of the time, I’d have a book in one hand while the other one ran through his soft fur. Whenever I had to take back my hand so I could turn the page, he protested – swatting at my hand with his paw as if saying, “Hey, why’d you stop?” He never got tired of being with me even if we weren’t doing anything, just sitting there spacing out. That is how I’ll always remember him.

Towards the end, he’d stopped eating as enthusiastically as he used to. His fur started falling off in places. His wounds didn’t heal as fast as they used to, but festered and bled often before they scabbed and scarred. His obsessive scratching made them worse. He became deaf, and his eyes clouded. He was old and aging by the minute and everyone could see it. I guess toward the end, I’d already been preparing myself, hardening my resolve, readying to accept the inevitable.

I’ve had other dogs before, equally as loved and special to me, but Axel is… Axel. He was the one who was with me through the most difficult times of my life. And he will be the dog whom I will always refer to as MY dog, not the ‘family dog’ or ‘our dog’.

There’s a movie I saw as a kid, “All Dogs go to Heaven”. I may never see Heaven, but I hope for Axel’s sake that what the movie says is true. I hope he’ll have the playground of his dreams there. What I was never able to give him, what he would have wanted in his dog’s life, I hope he’d get it all. I miss him so much. And I’m worried sometimes, and sad most times; but then, I’m pretty sure he’s alright. He is, after all, a lucky dog. MY lucky dog.

(posted elsewhere 5 Sep 2006)