The Dog, Ray

by Linda Coggin

  Pip is looking nervous now. “Do you think it’s going to be OK?”

  Sal smiles at him. “I’m sure it’s going to be OK. Now, there’s a big jazz festival on in town today — people come for miles — so there’ll be plenty to look at and listen to. Shall I show you the way to the beach so that you can walk Ray and then you can wander around town? Can you find your way back here about four o’clock, do you think?”

  Pip nods. I think he’s looking rather pale. He needs some fresh air and so do I. I’ve been here under the table for too long and I need to stretch my legs.

  It’s a blustery day outside. I’m sure it’s going to be good for Pip. Why shouldn’t his dreams come true?

  Sniff! Sniff! Seaweed, plastic bottles, beach shoes. I am assaulted by smells. My sense of smell has escalated and my hearing too. I can hear food hit a feeding bowl from more than twenty paces now. I can hear a baby cry in the next street. A couple argues. A car engine starts up. A tin can rattles along the sidewalk.

  Hang on. Hang on.

  Where’s Pip now? Is he gone? Has he left me alone on the beach? But there he is — throwing pebbles into the water. How pleased I am to see him. As if I haven’t seen him all day.

  We wander back into town. There seem to be flags and bunting everywhere, and on almost every street corner there’s a busker playing some instrument or other. On the green are a couple of tents, and people are cramming into them, trying to hear the music. I don’t know why they bother — you can hear it perfectly well from out here.

  Pip is not himself. He keeps sighing and looking at his watch. We sit down on the grass.

  “I don’t know, Ray,” he says to me. “I don’t think that this will work out. Why didn’t he come and get us this morning and take us back to meet Viv? I bet they had a huge fight over it and Viv has threatened to leave if he brings us home, and he hasn’t got the — the courage to tell us. I can’t stand to hear him tell me we can’t live with them. I think we should go. We might as well go, because he obviously doesn’t want us.”

  I look at Pip and a huge tear rolls down his cheek. He sniffs and angrily wipes it away. I don’t mind him crying, but I do mind him giving up hope.

  “We’ve got to stay, Pip,” I tell him. “If we go we’ll never know and you’ll spend your whole life wondering what might have happened.”

  I push up to his face and rub my wet nose against his cheek, and he lies back on the grass and looks at the sky. The whole picture, Pip, I think. See the whole picture — don’t worry about the missing pieces.

  I see a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair. There is a golden dog at their side, wearing a coat with letters written on it. He looks smart.

  “Sit, Dunbar!” I hear the woman say. She looks kind as well as anxious. She takes a locket out from around her neck and twists it through her fingers. Then she rests her hand on the man’s shoulder and smiles at him. The man lifts his head and smiles back, and I suddenly feel all warm inside. I can’t see the man’s face now. He is sitting very still with his head bent again.

  I’d like to have a yellow coat with letters written on it. Perhaps Pip will buy me a yellow coat with letters on it when it gets colder.

  Pip has sat up and seen the dog too.

  “Look, Ray! There’s a dog wearing an Assistance Dog coat. I bet he’s smart!” Then he bends down and gives me a hug.

  ‘But not as smart as you! You’re the best dog in the world. And if Dad’s wife doesn’t want us — well, I have you, and we’ll find a way to get by.”

  I give him a big lick. I think he’s putting on a brave face.

  We walk near them, and the woman makes me think of hot buttered toast and warm baths and perfumed hugs and boiled eggs. I am feeling something, but I don’t know what it is.

  “What’s up, Ray?” Pip asks.

  But I don’t answer him because I’ve got nothing to say.

  The sad woman with the dog. The faceless man in the wheelchair. A boy on a bus. The house on — what street was it? I can only recall Marjorie’s little house at the top of Barton Road. It’s like they’re all inside an hourglass and someone has tipped it upside down and they’re slipping through to the bottom of the glass.

  Going.

  When we get back, Pip helps Sal make the brownies for the café and then it’s four o’clock and time to go.

  “It’ll be all right, Pip,” I tell him. “He seems like a nice man to have as a dad and he might give you a job in the café!”

  Phil has already put the closed sign up on the door when we arrive, and I can see Maisie inside, wiping down the tables. Phil smiles at us and gives Pip a huge hug. This looks like a good sign to me. Maisie takes off her apron and, putting on her coat, gives us a wave.

  “Bye, you guys! See you soon!”

  We sit down at the table by the window again.

  “Do you want a drink, Pip? Apple juice? Orange juice? I can make you a hot chocolate if you like,” says Phil.

  But Pip shakes his head. He just wants to know.

  “You can imagine how surprised I was when you turned up, Pip,” Phil starts saying. “I had no idea that Janie was pregnant. She didn’t tell me, you know. She moved away as soon as college was over and never told me where she’d gone. I hope she managed all right. I’d hate to think of her struggling.”

  In between asking more questions about Pip’s mom, he tells Pip about Viv and how, although shocked at first, she really wants to meet him. I watch Pip’s foot sliding up and down the leg of his chair and I know he’s still worried that Viv will not like him when she does finally get to meet him.

  I can see a piece of toast that someone must have dropped under the next table and has escaped Maisie’s sharp eye. I begin, very slowly, to edge myself toward it. Elbow. Elbow. Foot. Foot. Body. Mmmm.

  There’re some good smells coming from behind the counter too. I don’t think anyone will notice if I go and check them out. Pip and his dad seem to have a lot to talk about.

  There’s a trash can and a bucket around the back of the counter. Scraps of bacon, toast, some omelet. All smelling pretty good. The trash can is too tall to get into, so I have to jump up. But it slips away from me and falls on my head.

  “Aargh!” I say, and scuttle back to Pip’s feet.

  “Ray!” he says. “Bad dog! You can’t do that!”

  Bad dog? He’s never called me that before. I’m a hungry dog, that’s all. I suppose he doesn’t want his dad to think I’m always going around knocking over trash cans.

  I move from Pip’s feet and sit under another table. They keep talking. Bad dog, indeed. I feel the corners of my mouth turn down and I sigh.

  I’m not listening to them anymore. I’m just protecting Pip. I like his dad, and if he takes us in I’ll be protecting him as well. And this Viv woman and Sam. I’d better brush up on my protecting skills. The snake man might walk into the café at any moment. I’m starting right now.

  Then we’re all up on our feet and going out of the café and down the street and back to the mauve house with the blue door. I have to check that our bicycle is still there, and it is. Pip seems to have forgotten about it. That’s another thing I’ll have to keep an eye out for.

  I miss the introductions at the door because another dog has been at the gate. But there is Viv, a tall, smiling woman with dark hair, giving Pip a hug, and she smells of kindness and kisses and generosity.

  “Hello!” she says to me. “Now, let’s have a look at you. Ah, yes. You look like a good dog. You’ll be nice to our Sam, won’t you?”

  And I know that, as long as he’s not like Cyril, I’ll take very good care of him.

  We’re in the house now. There seems to be a lot going on. Piles of books and newspapers. A bicycle in the hall. Paintings on the walls. Toys on the floor and, best of all, there is Sam. And he’s my height! Small and fair-haired, he waddles toward me on his little chubby legs.

  “Doggie!” he says, and he puts his arms around me and lays his head on my neck. I wag my tail,
but ever so gently because I don’t want to knock him over.

  I don’t sleep with Pip anymore. I have my own basket and my own rug — black and red checks. It is warm by the stove. I have my own bowl to eat out of and my own bowl to drink out of. Then there are Sam’s toys and my toys, and sometimes Sam and I get a bit muddled and he’s playing with my rubber chicken and I’m chewing on his toy duck. At night I lie awake, making sure nothing happens to anyone in the house — which is a huge responsibility, as there are so many of them. I am particularly protecting them from the snake man. I get my rest during the day, when I can see that everyone is OK and that no one has died in their sleep.

  Pip works with Maisie at the café and sometimes I look after them all there and sometimes I look after Sam and Viv at home. And Pip takes me for walks on the beach. More often than not, Maisie comes too. I’m always pleased to see Maisie, with her smells of joy and laughter and hope.

  And one day I saved Sam’s life.

  We were out on the sidewalk and Viv was talking to her neighbor and Sam had toddled off and was examining something in the middle of the road. I could hear something. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it. It was the engine of a car and it was being driven far too fast. Screech. Scream. Roar. It still hadn’t come into view, but I sensed it. And this is what must be meant by having a sixth sense, because it was a very strong feeling and I just had to do something about it.

  “Viv! Watch out for Sam!” I shouted, and I got hold of her skirt and I tugged it so that she would stop talking to her neighbor, and then I ran into the road and I pushed Sam with my nose to make him get up and I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to get out of the road now! Of course, he just giggled at me, even though he knew what I was saying. But Viv had seen. And now the car was coming around the bend on two wheels, and she ran into the road and scooped Sam up and we both raced back onto the sidewalk and the car tore past us and disappeared over the brow of the hill.

  “Oh, Sam, you naughty boy!” she scolded him. “You must never go into the road.”

  And Sam started to cry, and I gave him a lick to tell him it was all right, really, but that his mom was right to get mad. And the neighbor gave me a pat and said, “I think this dog of yours saved his life with all that barking.”

  And Viv gave me a big hug.

  We are all around the table having a late breakfast.

  I know there is someone there even before the doorbell rings. But Sam is feeding me some of his toast under the table, so I don’t take much notice. Normally I’d be the first at the door, going, “Someone at the door! Come on — open up!” but today I don’t want to leave this tasty morsel, so I let someone else go.

  I hear a woman’s voice. She sounds familiar.

  “I’m so sorry to be a nuisance. Is this where the Seagroves live?”

  “Yes,” says Viv. “May I help you?”

  “I just wondered if a lovely boy named Pip had managed to find your house and what had happened to him.”

  I practically choke on the toast in my hurry to get out from under the table and get to that door. There are a lot of legs in the way.

  “Marjorie! Marjorie! It’s me, Ray! Yes! We made it! We made it! Have you come back for your bicycle?”

  “Oh,” she says, bending down. “How lovely! Ray! You did find Pip’s dad after all!”

  I am so excited I have to go and tell Pip, but he’s heard her voice too and is walking toward the door.

  “Marjorie! You’ve come to see us!” Then I see a look of guilt pass over his face. “Oh, I should have told you! I’m so sorry — after all you did for us. I just didn’t think! And Dad’s told the authorities and it’s all OK now and — oh, I’m so happy to see you!” Pip gives Marjorie a big hug, then, remembering his manners, he introduces her.

  “Viv, Dad — this lady lives at your old house. She saved us from food poisoning and gave us your address.”

  “And she lent us her bicycle,” I add. Really, Pip seems to have forgotten all about that bicycle.

  “You must come in!” says Phil with a big smile on his face. “I have a lot to thank you for.”

  “I brought you some letters I hadn’t got around to forwarding on to you. In case,” she added, “you didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  Then they all go inside and sit around the table and I help clear the plates by giving them a lick, which I know I shouldn’t, but they are busy talking and they haven’t noticed me anyway.

  Later I go and sit on the floor between Marjorie and Pip. Perhaps Marjorie could come and live here too. I’d really like that.

  “Any time you want to go on vacation and you can’t take Ray,” she says, “I’m very happy to have her, you know. While you are away.” I push my nose under her hand and give her a lick. I’m collecting quite a family now.

  “Oh, by the way, Pip,” Marjorie continues, “they caught the fellow who took my car. The police have been after him for ages. He was well known for stealing almost anything. In his photograph he looked like the most unpleasant man. And he had — you know — tattoos. He’s locked up in prison now, thank goodness.”

  Locked up in prison? A huge sense of relief passes through my body. One less thing to worry about. Protecting everyone from the snake man was a very tiresome business.

  Marjorie often visits us now. She particularly likes taking me for a walk when Viv goes out with Sam in the stroller. They all talk a lot. I don’t listen much anymore. I don’t understand most of it. There are words that are important, though, that I listen for. Words like Let’s go for a walk and Dinnertime, Ray! And there are things that I would never do. Like I would never take a treat from anyone if they had asked me to leave it alone.

  There are lots of people in my life now. Pip and his family and Maisie and Sal and Jack and Marjorie. I know we don’t see Jack, but I still feel he’s there. And I always keep a lookout for him. In case he’s around the next corner or walking toward us along the road. Apart from Pip, who obviously is Number One, the person I like being with best is Sam. Little Sam with his laughter and tears. Sam who cannot talk yet. Well, not properly. He can say Mom and Dad and Pip and doggie and toy and drinkie, which is more than I can say.

  And I know something about Sam that no one else does. I know that Sam understands me perfectly well.

  I used to tell him things about myself and he knew what I was saying. And he would tell me things back. Like No one understands me! And How long do I have to wait for my lunch? And Oh no, it’s bath time again! And all the time he gurgles and gabbles and makes funny noises, I understand him perfectly well too. But the curious thing is, the more he is able to speak the other humans’ language, the less he is able to speak mine.

  He’s saying quite a lot now.

  I’m sleeping more. When I dream, flashes of people I don’t know come into my sleep. I don’t dream about people I know.

  There’s a boy, sitting on a bus. He looks nice, but not as nice as Pip. He’s there again, playing soccer. Then there is a man and a woman, a bit like Phil and Viv. In my dream I like them, but I don’t know who they are. The woman is always cooking me meals and giving me hugs. Then there is a girl. I don’t know who she is either, but she’s nearly always in my dreams. I’d like to know her. She is friendly and kind, and in the dreams she is always doing things. In one dream she is flying a kite and I’m there too. Trying to fly the kite with her. And when it falls to the ground, we both laugh and we both run over and pick it up and try to fly it again.

  Whenever I see Pip or Sam or Phil or Viv it’s like I haven’t seen them in a very long time. Particularly Pip. I’m always so pleased to set eyes on him. My sense of time has become very muddled now. For instance, it always seems like it should be time for a meal or a little snack.

  The weather is warming up and Pip and Maisie are sitting together on the sand and I’m standing by the edge of the sea. There’s something really interesting half buried in the sand. I just have to go and unearth it.

  Yes!
I thought so. A piece of wood.

  I pick it up and run over to Pip, dropping it by his side. He ruffles my ears but makes no attempt to get up and throw it for me. I take it around to Maisie, but all she does is play with the wood and idly bury it again by her side. I go back to the sea. Splash, splash, the water is swirling around my legs. Warm and silky.

  I look across the horizon. I walk a little farther into the water. I look behind me. Pip and Maisie are still sitting in the sand, chatting away. I start to swim. I can hear, just faintly, above the lapping of the waves and the seagulls screaming by the cliffs, a voice. Calling me.

  “Daisy! Daisy! Come in now!”

  I am swimming into the waves and I think of Pip on his birthday when he said it was like going back into the womb. The water is warm and there is a voice again. Calling. Calling.

  A wave washes over me and there is my room on Alexander Avenue with the mattress on the floor and the SAVE THE PLANET posters on the walls, and the water now is all pink and swirly like my mosquito net. And there is Jessica Warner and Owen Taylor and Ms. Roberts, the gym teacher, all waving at me.

  They’re all out there. Mom and Dad and Jack too. And it’s Mom’s voice I can hear.

  “Daisy! Daisy! Come in! The water’s really warm!”

  Another wave splashes over my head.

  Then I’m in the car with Dad. And Mom is at the door calling to us, in her I’m the boss apron. “Don’t forget to buy some cheese biscuits!” And we’re out on the road now. And Dad turns to me and says, “Could you just check that my wallet’s on the backseat, Daisy?” And I unbuckle my seat belt and turn to look and there’s the wallet. Brown and worn, with my scarf and Dad’s hat. And I turn back and something huge and black blots out the light. It is a horse jumping over the hedge. I look in wonder as it clears the hedge and I hear Dad shouting and I see fear in the horse’s eyes.

  And then there’s a noise like crashing, crumpling metal, and everywhere are diamonds catching the light. Diamonds in my hair and in my face and I’m flying now.