It was a frigorific winter evening in Edinburgh, the heart of Scotland. It indeed was an exhilarating sight to catch a glimpse of the misty downpour of snow, precipitating down on the most resplendent and romantic castles. One could actually imagine jaunty children making snow angels, building snowmen on the boundless sheet of snow.
Tracy and I were on our way back home from the veterinary clinic. We ambled down into the deep, dense undergrowth. All of a sudden, we heard a loud rumbling sound. ‘Was that thunder?’ I gazed up on the wide blue space, there were no clouds. Tracy barked clamourously. I knew that something was wrong. It was a hideous and a prodigious bear. Its cavernous teeth daunted me to death. Within a flash, I recalled my scout training session. I stood like a statue, calm and composed. The bear glared at me. He smelt me and then frowned. He growled and snarled. I did not move a limb. Sweat was drooping down and tickling my skin. I could feel the blood gushing through my veins. After a thorough observation, the bear fled into the woods. Hastily, I slipped through a narrow pathway and made my way out. ‘Tracy! We are safe now girl!’ I could hear the birds chirping, the winds beating against the majestic trees, but not a bark from Tracy. I rummaged through the wildflower fields. I cried out to her. After intense yelling, I felt weary and helpless that I would never see her sailing through the grassy wetlands. Dejected, I reached home. I dodged my mother’s questions. I smiled sheepishly. She was not contended. My mother rolled down her eyeballs and patiently waited for honesty to spill from my mouth. ‘Sandra! I am talking to you honey! Why do you look so worn out?’ I was brought back to my senses. ‘Mom! It pains me to say that Tracy is nowhere to be found. I was chased by a beast. The last time I was with her was when we were coming back from the veterinary clinic.’, I said. It turned out that the tables had turned. Her body started to quiver. She felt sorry for my loss.
Within a few seconds the doorbell rang. My best friends Sophie and Amelia stepped in. They were taken by a surprise. ‘Looks like you have been struck by lightning Sandra!’, exclaimed Amelia. ‘Probably, she is under examination pressure!’, chuckled Sophie. ‘Does anyone notice that something is missing?’, enquired Amelia. ‘Oh heavens! Sandra is not wearing her pendant, has she lost it?’, asked Sophie. I missed Tracy’s happy barks. She was my best pal and I got adrift. We recollected the bitter-sweet memories where Tracy would snoop into the kitchen, sniff, eat and slop the leftover chicken stew all around the floor.
‘Why not organize a search party?’ asked Sophie. Immediately, we started our investigation. Oliver, Jack, and James joined us as Sophie had called them. We armed ourselves with flashlights and cue sticks. As we treaded through the field, we approached the place where I had encountered the bear. We heard the coyotes howling under the moonlight. ‘Look I found! Tracy’s name tag.’, exclaimed Oliver with glee. We jostled each other and swarmed around him. We searched for clues, but we were in utter dismay and returned… empty handed.
‘Perhaps she was devoured by a bear.’, sighed James. Never in my life have I heard James uttering bitter talks. I said with conviction, ‘Whether you doubt me or not, we will find Tracy.’ We went back to our house, with heavy heart. I couldn’t sleep that night. I sat still, motionless. It was past the witching hour. I curled up my pillow and went to a deep slumber. Sun was streaming down my room. ‘Rise and shine, sweetheart. We ought to go to the townhall.’ ‘Townhall, are we attending some prestigious ceremony? Now is not the good time to celebrate for I am grieving Tracy.’, I thought. I wore my sombre grey frock and scurried down the stairs all the way to my mother’s car. There was an open community kitchen with utensils, long tables with crimson and white checks tablecloths laid with polished cutleries and ceramic plates with stupendous designs of flowers, birds etc. On the centre were many colossal cauldrons. My dad and my sister, Sadie were ready to make the hay while the sun was shining. I hadn’t the faintest notion that behind the engineer stood a tall dashing chef. I was baffled to see such an arrangement. Didn’t know what the whole town was celebrating. Mother said, ‘The whole town shall prepare COOK-A-LEEKIE-CHICKEN SOUP and I am certain that the aroma will travel at such a vast distance that Tracy will spring out from the woods and fight for her share. Sadie, distribute the recipe pamphlet to everyone.’ Oh! What a marvellous idea! We took the extreme left table near the creek. I knew what I had to do. I gathered four leaks which weighed about two and a half pounds. Sophie cut off the first few inches of the bushy green part. It was the dark green fibrous part which was needed to cook a steaming broth. Oliver rinsed them thoroughly and added it to the boiling water in that large pot. There was mother’s favourite part which was to put one whole chicken into the pot. The chicken was about four and a half pounds. The bay leaves, cloves of garlic, lemon balm, sage, pepper, nutmeg. The key to this recipe was to add five dried plums. Amelia had poured over three quarts of boiling water. Then James had sprinkled over the fibrous leaks. As the cooking laid, I could smell the aroma of the tender sweet, dried plums, the odour of the steamed chicken bathed in cloves, garlic, leaks and aromatic spices and herbs. The smell was so heartfelt and profound that it could escape into the atmosphere and traverse its way to the Clyde Valley route. Uncle Richard and Aunt Rosie indulged boasting about their respective Cook-a-Leekie-Chicken Soup. I looked around, startled. It seemed that the enthusiasm of the whole town just ended with the tantalizing smell of the soup that wafted into the atmosphere into the Clyde Valley woods. The atmosphere was rented in silence. Our eyes glued to the Valley… wishing the soup strategy would be successful.
Just then, our heart skipped a beat as we all saw Tracy trotting through the valley, her head high, tail streaming bucking like frisky foals. She was racing and bounding around in the snow yelling. She found out the site of the aroma and made her way to the town hall. Tracy had a strong sense of smell. As she sniffed into the whiff, she lolled her tongue and wagged her tail. ‘Woof! Woof!’ barked Tracy with merriment. I was hearkening to the sound. I saw Tracy, sailing her way capering over the tables and pranced on my lap. I cried on her glossy golden fur. My mother cried happily. My friends crowded around me and danced with joy. I remarked, ‘Mother’s Recipe had brought us back together. Am I right my girl?’