Ice Cream Of The Crop

(I’m 15. My St Bernard gets arthritis in his spine (a common disease for the breed) and due to his size, life in a sling would be very painful. He has to be put down as he can’t get off the ground on his own. After, I am sitting on the curb outside my house crying when the ice cream truck comes around the corner and stops in front of me.)

Me: *thinking that he thinks I’m waiting for the truck* “Sorry to make you stop. I’m not waiting for you to come around. You should keep going.”

Ice-Cream-Man: “What’s wrong? You’re usually quite cheery.”

Me: “My dog just had to be put down; I’ve had him since i was 5. He was way past his life-expectancy, so I knew it was coming, but i can’t help but miss him”

Ice-Cream-Man: “Hmm… one second.”

(He gets me my usual order of strawberry and blueberry.)

Ice-Cream-Man: “Here. I know it’s not much, but I hope this’ll cheer you up a bit.”

Me: “Thank you so much, but I don’t have any money on me… I could pay you back next time you come around.”

Ice-Cream-Man: *giving me the cone* “No, you won’t. It’s on the house. I’ve made enough profit from you and your brother that i can spare $4. Enjoy. I hope you feel better.”

Me: “Thank you so much… I don’t even know what to say…”

Ice-Cream-Man: “No problem. I hate seeing people upset.” *he walks back through to the driver’s seat of the truck and drives away*

(It wasn’t much, but this is quite possibly the best thing anyone has done for me so far.)