Somebody's Doodle

by Nikki Attree

  Harry sighs disgustedly, and yawns. “Go on then, if you must. I'm going back to bed. I need to catch up on some kip without them bleedin mutts waking me up with their fekin yapping!"

  Jack attaches leads to the dogs’ collars and they set off for Clissold park, a fifteen minute walk through the mean streets of Stoke Newington. Doodle has never been on a walk quite like this. She’s more used to the quiet, leafy streets of Hampstead, and she’s nervous. Her senses are assaulted by unfamiliar smells: kebabs, curries, stale alcohol, vomit, urine ...“Hmm, actually some of those are quite interesting” she’s thinking.

  Gizmo agrees. He’s rapturously sniffing the tapestry of exotic odors, and he’s in smell heaven. By now he’s beginning to have doubts that these humans will be taking him back home to Tenerife, and of course that makes him sad. He has no idea where he is or what is going on, but as always he’s stoic.

  They arrive at the park and his mood lifts at the sight of all that grass. Readers of ‘Nobody’s Poodle’ will remember that he grew up in muddy old England before moving to the hot, dusty island of Tenerife, and the memories come flooding back. He always loved splashing around in puddles, chasing sticks, rolling around in mud ... and yee-ha, just look at all those other dogs rushing around doing just that. It's still early morning, but the park is already teeming with people walking their dogs before work. Gizmo tugs on his lead, desperate to be let off so he can join in the wooftastic fun. Jack would love to oblige, but he can’t risk it. "Sorry mate, I can't let you run around off the lead, you might not come back."

  They stroll around the park exploring the lawns, trees, the small pond, there’s even a little zoo with deer (he’s definitely not letting the dogs off the lead anywhere near them). Doodle begins to relax, and it’s fun - not just for the dogs, but for Jack as well. In fact, he can’t remember when he’s enjoyed himself as much recently. Oh yes, maybe at the dog show with Annie - that was fun. And the common denominator: dogs. No offense to Annie - she’s a lot of fun as well, but he has to admit, he really enjoys being with man’s furry best friends.

  They look great: two identical white LabDoodles, and they get many admiring glances. Some of the other dog-walkers wave a cheery “good morning” and want to stop for a chat. Jack is enjoying feeling part of the canine loving community, but he’s also starting to feel worried by the attention they’re receiving. Perhaps he’s going to need some kind of disguise, both for him and the dogs. He checks that they are not being followed as they walk home.

  As soon as they get back to the house Jack opens a can of dog food, bought from the local supermarket. Gizmo waits expectantly, little gobs of saliva dribbling from his mouth, as the pungent aroma of cheap tinned dog food fills the kitchen. It’s hungry work being dognapped and dragged around a park, and he can’t wait to wolf down whatever is in the tin.

  Doodle is also quite peckish, but she’s outraged by what’s on the menu. "What’s that he’s giving us to eat? It smells revolting, and I haven't even got my nose in the bowl yet.”

  Gizmo woofs back: "if it tastes as good as it smells it’ll be wooftastic. Bring it on, I can’t wait! Finally some food that stinks like a dog's dinner should. The stuff they gave us at that poncey Wags place had no smell, and no taste.”

  Doodle doesn’t agree: “I thought the food at the hotel was very well balanced and healthy."

  Gizmo does the canine version of a guffaw. “Give me a break Doodle. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really a dog or a girl human in disguise. You’ve got no sense of what makes a proper pong, a wooftastic whiff ...”

  “Yes, well you’re used to eating whatever you find on the street” Doodle woofs in her up-her-own-bottom poodley voice, “whereas I have a sensitive stomach, and I’m used to a more refined diet.”

  “Whatever princess” Gizmo barks back. “If you don't want yours, I'll have it!"

  Jack puts two bowls of the supermarket food on the floor. There’s a cacophony of chomping and slurping as Gizmo dives in and wolfs his down. Jack laughs. “Hey, slow down mate. You’ll choke on it, or throw it up, and then we’ll have to go to that expensive vet again. We don’t want that, do we?"

  Doodle sniffs her food suspiciously. “Well, at least he’s given me my own bowl this time. That’s something I suppose.” She hesitates, nose twitching as she wonders whether it’s worth risking her delicate stomach.

  Gizmo finishes his bowl, licks it clean, and eyes up Doodle's food. She’s resigned to not getting her usual luxury kibble, but she’s not stupid when needs must. She tentatively tastes a bit of the stuff in her bowl before her streetwise fellow hostage scoffs the lot, and she’s pleasantly surprised - it’s actually not that bad. Once over the initial shock of the unfamiliar smell, she realises just how hungry she is and soon manages to finish the whole bowl.

  "See, it wasn't so bad eh?" woofs Gizmo.

  "I suppose so” she agrees, reluctantly. “But it’ll probably play havoc with my digestion."

  Gizmo has an exploratory sniff around the kitchen and finds the rubbish bin, which hasn't been emptied for at least a week. He’s still feeling homesick and confused about what’s happening, but as always he’s stoic, and he has to admit there are positives to be found in their current situation. "This place is growing on me” he woofs. “There are some really first-class smells. My kitchen in Tenerife never smelt this fruity!”

  Doodle looks at him with disgust, but secretly she agrees. There’s a whole symphony of intriguing aromas here (even though she pretends that they’re not to be sniffed at), and she’s never encountered most of them before. She’s beginning to realise what a sheltered life she’s led all alone in Elizabeth’s sanitised, fumigated house.

  * * *

  The next morning Jack is sitting in the living room watching breakfast TV, when an item comes on which nearly results in his mouthful of coffee being spattered all over the sofa. There she is: the posh woman, being interviewed and talking about her “designer dog” Doodle, missing from an exclusive canine hotel, and presumed dognapped! The presenter introduces her as a victim of a “neoteric twenty-first century lifestyle crime” - the recent spate of celebrities’ dogs being targeted, stolen, and held to ransom.

  Jack is impressed. He always knew that they were ahead of the game. Of course he also already knew that Elizabeth was wealthy and successful, but to hear her described as a celebrity, on mainstream TV, is an unexpected bonus. He’s quietly proud to be one of the innovators of this trailblazing new crime.

  Looking straight at the camera, Elizabeth tells the presenter how much she and her daughter love their dog, and how devastated they are. “Miranda and I feel like one of the family has just died ...” she gushes. The camera zooms in, and we can see that tears are welling in her eyes.

  Doodle starts whimpering excitedly. She recognizes Elizabeth’s voice on the TV and woofs to Gizmo: “where's my mistress? I can hear her, but I can't see her. Is she coming to take me home?”

  "I don't know sweetie, but there’s no point in getting upset” woofs Gizmo, and puts a paw on her leg.

  Jack is just starting to feel some real sympathy for Elizabeth, and despite himself, even a measure of genuine remorse, but then she abruptly changes the subject and starts talking enthusiastically about her latest project. “Of course, the viewers will have heard about the film I’ve been making: ‘Nobody’s Poodle’, which actually stars Doodle ...”

  “Yes, I think I read a press release” says the presenter, who has in fact been bombarded with publicity material from Elizabeth’s company: ‘Cutting Edge Films’. She looks at him expectantly, and he obliges: “would you like to tell us a bit about the film?”

  “Yes, of course ... well, we’ve been filming for the past few months at Pinewood and although it’s early days, I’m confident that we’ll have a hit on our hands. Or should I say paws?”

  She giggles at the camera. The presenter tries to butt in, but she’s in full flow now: “I don’t want to give away too much about the plot, but I can reveal
that it breaks new ground in terms of our canine star’s performance. I mean, we’re talking potential Oscar territory ...”

  The presenter finally manages to get a word in edgeways: “so, how will Doodle’s abduction affect the project?”

  “Well, in one way it can only help to raise the film’s profile, and of course because Doodle is so famous, it should make it more likely that she’s spotted - maybe by one of her fans. The problem is, we still need to film several scenes with her and her costar ... Oh, I nearly forgot about Gizmo, he was taken from the hotel as well. The dogs are actually identical designer Labradoodles, but one’s a boy and the other’s a girl. That’s all part of the plot ...”

  The presenter again manages to interrupt her flow: “I think we have a picture of Doodle and Gizmo on the screen ...”

  A glossy image of the canine stars, posing glamorously around the Wags swimming pool, appears in Jack’s living room. He turns to Gizmo and says: “well, now we know your name, mate. And apparently you’re a celebrity pooch as well. That’s fantastic news: two for the price of one. I knew that we did the right thing nicking both of you, and to think that Harry wanted to chuck you in the river.”

  Elizabeth is in full flow again, talking over the photo: “so I want to appeal to the public. You can see how gorgeous these two dogs are. Tell all your friends about them, and about the film. We’re offering a reward of two thousand pounds for any information that leads to their return, and helps us to finish this amazing project.”

  The presenter thanks Elizabeth, the programme concludes, and they head off to the hospitality suite.

  Jack is buzzing and the cogs are whirring. “Two grand for these two? You’re ‘aving a laff misses fancy film producer!” he thinks. “We were going to sting you a hundred thousand for your star pooch, but now we know there are two, and we’ve got both of ‘em ... Got to be worth two hundred grand, at least. You and your company are going to make millions out of this movie, and you’ve already said that it can’t go ahead without the dogs.”

  The cogs whir faster as Jack replays the interview in his head, noting how many times Elizabeth mentioned the film. “In fact by stealing the stars of your movie, we’ve actually given it quite a boost, haven’t we?” he realises. “You know, if I hadn't nicked the dogs myself, I’d have thought it was all just a clever publicity stunt ...”

  Jack's mobile rings, interrupting his cogitations. It's Annie:

  “Hi Jack, how's things?”

  “Yeah, pretty good thanks.”

  "I just wondered if you’d like to go out for a drink tonight?"

  “Yes, that would be great. What time?”

  “How about eight?"

  “OK, cool. Meet you at the Hope and Anchor then.”

  * * *

  After lunch, Jack takes the dogs to the park again. This time Doodle is less daunted by the sights, sounds, and exotic smells of Stoke Newington. In fact, although hearing Elizabeth’s voice that morning gave her a sharp pang of anxiety, she’s just beginning to enjoy the care and attention that she’s getting. When was the last time that either her mistress, or that useless bimbo, Cheryl, took her for a walk in the park and actually played with her?

  As before, a good time is had by all. Jack is so tempted to let them run free off the lead, but again caution kicks in. “When all this is over, I’m going to get my own dog” he thinks, “and he’ll get to chase a ball every day - in the park, on the beach, he’ll be one spoilt pooch.”

  When they get home he’s yawning, the dogs are knackered, and they could all do with a nap. So they retire to The Lad’s room. Gizmo is well used to the concept of the afternoon siesta, and of course Doodle used to spend most of her days asleep downstairs in the big Hampstead house. “A designer dog for a Grand Design of a house” as Elizabeth liked to say, but Doodle always slept alone, and she was never allowed anywhere near her mistress’ bed. So she’s particularly impressed that she’s actually going to be allowed to snooze in a human bedroom.

  Jack puts some blankets on the floor for them, but as soon as he starts to doze off, Gizmo jumps up on the bed, and Doodle joins him. Jack is too tired to complain, and anyway he enjoys cuddling up to the dogs. Doodle is in heaven. The three of them curl up together and drift off to sleep.

  Several hours later Jack is woken up by Gizmo scratching at the door. “What's the matter mate? Oh I see, you need to go out for a pee. Christ it's seven o’clock - no wonder!” Jack jumps up off the bed in a panic, followed by Doodle rather less enthusiastically - she was enjoying that siesta cuddle. He opens the bedroom door, and Gizmo dashes downstairs.

  Harry is in the living room, in a bad mood as usual. The dogs back away from him and retreat behind the sofa. He fires off a question at Jack, without even the pretense of a friendly greeting: “right, I see you’re awake then, so when the ‘ell are we gonna blag some dosh for these bleedin dogs?”

  Jack pauses on his way to the front door. “Oh hi, good afternoon to you too mate. All in good time, we’ll talk about it later, OK? The dogs need a walk."

  "Feck off mate! Forget about them. I’m broke, I need some money, and I don’t know how much longer I can put up with these mangy mutts in my ‘ouse!" Harry glares at the dogs.

  Doodle cowers in the corner, Gizmo scratches at the door, and Jack picks up their leads. “I’m sorry mate, these two need to go out for a pee and I’m in a bit of a rush. I’m meeting Annie in the pub, and we can discuss it when I get back - about eleven thirty, OK?”

  Jack attaches the dogs’ leads and heads for the door. As he’s leaving Harry shouts: “you know you can’t take ‘em to the boozer with you? Someone might see ‘em. So where are you gonna leave ‘em when you’re out?"

  “Yes, I had thought of that actually, mate. I’ll leave them in my room, OK?” Jack shouts, as he dashes out of the house.

  It’s just in time for Gizmo. As they reach the street his bowels explode with a severe case of diarrhea. “Oh no, not again ...” thinks Jack. “Just what I need right now: another dog with the shits! I thought we’d had enough of that with Angus.”

  Gizmo looks up at him, mid crap. “You think I’m enjoying this mate?” he’s thinking ruefully. “I’ve been feeling a bit ruff all afternoon, and I had to hold on for hours while you were having a snooze.”

  "Well, I’m glad to say that I’m OK” Doodle woofs in her stuck-up poodley way. “Frankly I’m amazed that the tinned stuff he gave us this morning didn't affect my digestive system. Anyway, I thought you were a tough street dog Gizmo, but it turns out that you can’t even cope with something as trivial as a change in diet."

  “OK Doodle, no need to sound so smug and up-your-own-bottom. Just count yourself lucky that you’re not up my bottom. Right now that’s not a place you’d want to be!”

  As soon as they get back home Jack takes Gizmo straight to the bathroom, and grabs some toilet paper to wipe his backside. Meanwhile Doodle sits there watching and smirking. "You’re really enjoying this, aren't you?" Gizmo woofs to her.

  "Moi, no ... OK, well maybe just a little" she replies gleefully. “After all the stuff you’ve told me about how I’d never survive on the streets, it’s quite funny seeing you having to have your bottom wiped.”

  "OK, don't rub it in."

  “It’s not me that’s doing the rubbing in, at this precise moment” Doodle chortles.

  “You’ve got a real cruel streak in you, haven’t you Doodle?"

  “Whereas you have streaks all over that furry little derrière right now."

  "Very funny" Gizmo woofs, with a hangdog expression.

  * * *

  After Jack has dealt with Gizmo's stomach problem, he locks both dogs in his bedroom (he doesn't trust Harry anywhere near them) and goes to meet Annie in the pub. Things are progressing slowly but surely between them. They enjoy each other’s company, but each is waiting for the other to make the next move. Annie is a lifeline for Jack - a connection with intelligent, caring humanity - everything that his partner isn’t. Annie
loves his Jack-the-Lad sense of humour, and his devil-may-care approach to life.

  They are cautiously opening up to each other and revealing more about themselves, bit by bit. Jack tells her how he’s getting a lot of stress from his business partner, and how he would love to have a dog. He reckons that he has an empathy with them, and revisits the idea of doing a course in canine behavioral training. Annie thinks that it’s a great idea. She tells him that when they first met in the vet, she was impressed by how good he was with Angus. “You were just looking after that little terrier for a friend, weren’t you? It wasn’t even your own pooch, but he obviously adored you.”

  Jack is dead chuffed: “oh, you really think so? He was a bit of a rascal, eating loads of stuff that he shouldn’t have, but I missed him when he went back to his owner.”

  Annie sympathises: “yes, that must have been quite gut-wrenching. When you’ve built up a good rapport with an animal they become like a close friend, and it can be very sad when you have to say goodbye.”

  Instantly Jack is transported back to his childhood, and the moment when his father snatched his first dog and best friend, Scruffy, away from him. “Gut-wrenching” expresses it only too well. He stares into space, lost in his thoughts for a moment, reliving the sadness. Then he snaps out of it, and remembers that Annie is his lifeline.

  “Sorry, I was miles away there” he apologises. “Actually I’ve been dog-sitting my partner’s two dogs recently. It’s been fun taking them to the park and stuff. One of them had a bit of a dodgy stomach this evening, just like Angus in fact, and that’s why I was a bit late.”

  “At least you didn’t bring him with you to the pub, so my new boots can hopefully stay vomit-free for a while longer,” Annie jokes, and Jack laughs. They smile at each other, and there’s a real connection between them now.