emlyn of carmarthen

Today, while taking a new route to the City Centre, I ran into Emlyn of Carmarthen.

I first noticed Emlyn, a short, sturdy man probably in his late 60s, more than a year ago as I walked to work near the University of Cardiff, his tiny Yorkshire terrier trailing slowly behind him.

Our walking paths coincided irregularly and we started up conversation, usually around his Yorkie, Toby, whose little legs were aged and tired, but persistent. Emlyn himself, in my mind, is how I've come to see a Welshman of the Valleys: not tall in stature, but bull-like and physically strong, with twinkling eyes and a friendly laugh and banter. His name in Welsh, so the Internet tells me, means: 'around the valley.'

It was always a joy to see them.

Then, about a year ago, I saw Emlyn walking by himself. He looked lost without Toby, who had passed away. I said, 'You need to get another dog. It will help.'

Six months ago, I ran into Emlyn again, with a new, young Toby trotting along beside him, passing his youth as if by intravenous into Emlyn, whose own gait was sprightly again. We chatted and exchanged names. He was from the small town of Mountain Ash in the Valleys, and he and his wife weren't living in Cardiff but were from Carmarthen, travelling to Cardiff once a week or so to take care of an aged uncle.

And I hadn't seen them since today, while taking a new sidestreet. I met his wife, who is a good match for him and whose eyes dance like his. Emlyn had the new Toby, dressed in his winter coat, in his arms as they got into their car for the return to Carmarthen.

One day, hopefully, I will have my camera with me when I bump into Emlyn and Toby and capture a little of that love of life.