by Pete Lockett
“Is the manager here?” he enquired.
“No, I’m in charge. It all goes through me,” replied the girl.
“I bet it does,” replied Ed ironically, under his breath.
“What did you say? I’ll have you for racism,” shouted the girl in immediate response.
“I said I’ve got cold toes. What did you think I said?” retorted Ed.
“Whatever,” replied the girl, tossing a dishcloth behind her without care, missing the work surface completely and accidently directing it into a large pot of beans.
“Anyway, I’ll have to leave the dog here. It’s not mine. I can’t take it,” pleaded Ed.
“Try the petrol station. You can’t leave it here. It’s a restaurant not a zoo,” replied the girl with no concern.
“Your cloth is in the beans, look. Call it a restaurant? Another thing, it’s sexism not racism, get it right,” replied Ed angrily, as he turned round and marched out, leaving the girl to retrieve the bean-soaked cloth. Meanwhile, outside, the dog had seized his opportunity and grabbed the mobile phone from the table, dragged it over to the bushes and hidden it. Soon his new master had returned, scooped him up and began walking the short distance up the small slip road and into the petrol station.
“Has anyone lost a dog?” he shouted, as he wandered around the five or so people pumping fuel into their cars.
“Has anyone lost their dog?” he shouted again to no response before marching into the mini-mart payment booth.
“I could hear you from in here, mate. No. It’s not anyone in here, all the customers are outside,” shouted a small British Chinese man behind the till.
“Can I leave it here? It’s not mine.”
“Sorry, mate. You’ll have to take it. I suggest taking it to the RSPCA or dog home or something like that,” replied the little man as one of the customers came in and impatiently started wafting a credit card in his face.
“Oh for fuck’s sake. This is ridiculous. I can’t take a fucking dog home. Why did you pick me, you fucking little mutt,” exclaimed Ed angrily, as he headed out of the petrol station and back over to his car.
Oh, my phone. I must have left it on the table. Stupid git, thought Ed, as he fumbled through his pockets before returning to the empty table. Once again he headed into the diner, dog in arms.
“Have you found a phone outside?” he shouted across to the girl.
“You can’t bring a dog in here, I told you that already. Please leave the premises,” she retorted nastily.
“Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK!” replied Ed in a less than articulate manner before heading out and over to his car, perplexed with the dilemma of the dog.
Lose my phone when I need it the most and get kidnapped by a fucking dog. What a day. I wish I’d never stopped here, thought Ed, as he popped the hound onto the passenger seat, buckled himself up and sped out into the night.
The dog looked up at the digital clock in the dashboard of the car; 17.40.
Maybe I’ve delayed Ed enough to avoid the accident, he thought, as they sped onto the M3, zapping past cars, lorries and bikes. The speed crept up to 70, 75, 80, 85 and then settled around 92MPH. The dog kept very still and quiet, nervous to his core about what would most likely happen next.
He mused on the idea that it might have been him that caused the accident in the first place, his intervention and interference. He tried to unravel the complex chronology of that and then finally gave it up as a farfetched idea. The clock ticked on, 17.49, 17.52, 17.56, 17.59, 18.03, 18.16, 18.24. On and on as the journey continued, further and further towards London and their home. He sat quiet and still, keen to not make a noise or disturb the environment and cause an accident. He stood up with his hind legs on the edge of the seat and his front paws on the glove compartment staring at the road signs as they counted down towards London. He double-checked the date on the small calendar above the car clock, Sept - 22 - 2009. It was definitely the right day and by now the time had moved on to 18.55. He hoped to his inner core that he had guided Ed away from the fatal accident and towards a fulfilling future and the realisation of his dreams. What would this intervention do to his next transience though.
In no time they were well into London, turning onto the M25 and along the M40. Soon they would arrive at Ed’s West London home and he could get his first glimpse of Abella. He had missed her so much, even though he’d shagged a white furry pussy in a bush.
Chapter 22
Little telepathic monster
Ed threw his leather satchel over his shoulder, grabbed the dog under his arm and marched over towards the front door. As he fumbled in his pocket for the key, the hound squirmed free and barked at the closed door, jumping up and down in excitement. As soon as Ed slid the key into the lock, twisted and opened the door, the dog shot in like a bullet, up the stairs, round the corner into the bedroom and through to Abella’s secret relaxing spot. Ed rushed in behind him, slammed the door, threw down his bag and ran after the hound. Abella was lying on a XXL beanbag in a hidden alcove in the corner of the room. The furry beast ran in and leapt on top of her, licking her face excitedly and forcing one of her iPod earpieces to fly out as he showed his uncontrolled emotion.
“Who are you, how did you get in, you naughty little fella?” exclaimed Abella, as she embraced the animal with both arms, gently stroking his silky fur. Ed entered the room and went over to see her being mauled with affection.
“This dog is something else; I have no idea how he knew you were here. It’s like he’s a little telepathic monster.”
“Where did you get him from, he’s gorgeous, a gorgeous Border terrier pup?” replied Abella, as she stroked and hugged the hound who was still lavishing affection on her face.
“He kind of hijacked me at the diner and became very insistent to come back. I couldn’t find his owner and the diner wouldn’t take him, so I had to bring him home. Maybe we can take him to the dog home tomorrow. What do you think?” enquired Ed.
“Well, let’s see. What we need to do now is feed him. I wonder what he eats. Let’s take him to the kitchen and see what he likes,” replied Abella, as she stood up, gently clasped the dog and headed through the room and downstairs, giving her husband a big kiss on the way.
Ed, the dog, was astounded to be back home. He loved Abella such a lot and was so happy and relieved to realise he had successfully steered his larger alter ego away from his fateful appointment. It was a little odd being a ‘fly on the wall’ in their lives, but he felt complete and satisfied being home. Soon they had all moved down to the kitchen and were looking into the fridge for likely dog food. The hound held his paw out and eagerly gesticulated towards the packs of prosciutto and sliced honey roast ham.
“He can’t be for real, Ed, he’s pointing towards the ham as if he knows what it is. That’s crazy,” exclaimed Abella, a little aghast.
“I told you he was extraordinary. It wouldn’t surprise me if he could open it,” replied Ed, as he flicked on the TV with the remote and tuned in to live premiership football.
“Well I’ll put some down on a plate for him on the floor and see how he gets on. How was your day anyway, did the meetings go well?”
“Yes, all good. The meetings went well but I was being bombarded all day with other bullshit. I really think some good opportunities are opening up though. I think we might be poised to go to the next level with the company. Let’s see,” replied Ed, as the TV blurted out irrelevant comments on footballers with two good feet and powerful heads.
“Oh Ed, look, he’s eaten the Italian ham and the sliced ham and now he’s pointing to your case of beer on the floor.”
“Don’t give him beer for Chrissakes, Abella, are you nuts?”
“Why not? A little won’t hurt,” replied his wife heading over to the case.
“Because!”
“Oh, too late. I’ve just poured him some in a little bowl. Look, he loves it. This dog is mad.”
Ed jumped up and ran out to the kitchen, perplexed to
see the hound gulping down the beer.
“I think I’ve seen it all now,” exclaimed Ed in disbelief as the dog brushed past him and jumped up into his arm chair, arranged a pillow and settled down for a nap.
“He’s in my fucking chair now, can you believe it. Are you sure he’s not me?”
“I’m not. He’s as affectionate as you, Ed. I love him, he’s really cute. Can we keep him?”
“Let’s see in the morning. We can’t have a dog. How will we ever be able to leave the house?” replied Ed, not so keen.
“Oh, we’ll find a way somehow, baby,” replied Abella seductively.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. One thing’s for sure, he’s not having my fucking arm chair,” exclaimed Ed, as he lifted the dog from his chair and plonked him down on the sofa. Abella soon followed in quick succession with a small blanket and Ed the dog settled down for the night. He was so tired yet so happy to be home amongst everything familiar that he loved, the sights, the smells and the people. In no time at all he went straight off into a deep and comfortable sleep.
***
The silence of the morning was sliced apart by the penetrating tones of the alarm clock, fervent beeping in 7/8. It didn’t disturb Abella though. She was already awake and sat upright looking at Ed as his helpless arm strayed out aimlessly from under the covers to assault the offending clock. The dog sat calmly on her lap, wide awake, enjoying the stroking being lavished upon the top of his head and back.
“Oh, Ed, can we keep him, please? Please?”
“Oh, Christ, I’ve only just woken up, give me a chance,” replied Ed as he became conscious.
“Please, Ed, please, he is gorgeous.”
“What would we do with him when we go on holiday? We’d be tied to the house.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. There will be a way.”
“Oh blimey. You’re aggravating me first thing in the morning. Please give it a rest,” barked Ed, still caught in the atmosphere of a dream. The dog remained silent, trying to be as endearing and cute as possible, staring at Abella with his head on one side and his panting mouth slightly open.
“Can you believe it I even had a dream that I was the fucking dog? Is he taking me over or what? It was the most realistic dream I have ever had. I was really a dog but I could speak and act like a human. How strange.”
“It’s a sign, Ed. It means we must keep the dog. Please, please, Ed,” pleaded Abella.
“Oh for Chrissake, if it keeps you quiet, we’ll keep the dog. Does that make you happy?”
With this, Abella jumped out of bed, flinging the dog across upwards and onto Ed’s lap. He barked excitedly as Abella jumped for joy, unable to contain her excitement. She leapt back onto the bed and kissed Ed over and over like an excited child.
“What shall we call him, Ed? What shall we call him?”
“I don’t know, how about Fido?”
“Don’t be silly. That’s a dog’s name. What about Little Ed, Little Ed will be perfect.”
“Okay, Little Ed it is. Anything for some peace. Welcome to the family, Little Ed. I hope you don’t eat too much.”
Ed picked the dog up and handed it to Abella.
“We’ll need to get a basket and some dog stuff I suppose. Let’s have breakfast and go down to the pet store.”
“Okay, baby. Let’s do that, yippee, yippee,” replied Abella, as she plopped Little Ed down on the floor and went off into the bathroom to shower. Knowing that this would be a clear hour of bathroom activity and grooming, Ed turned himself back over, pulling the covers over his shoulders. It was Saturday. Why shouldn’t he have a lie-in? Little Ed jumped up on the bed and took up position outside the covers with his head resting on Ed’s legs.
He knew he only had a couple of days of consciousness before he’d dissolve into the animal but was happy to let that happen. He was where he wanted to be and one way or another, big Ed had been saved and was back with his wife, ready for his dreams, happiness and success. Little Ed meanwhile had learnt so much about life, history and people in his time as a Transient. He’d come to a much deeper understanding of existence and what it could mean without ambition, possessions and greed. He’d heard stories of survival in the most extreme of circumstances, battling with compassion and understanding against the tyranny of bigotry, fascism and persecution. He’d also learnt the value of what he had right there in his own life in the present, right here and now, there and then. That place of security and familiarity was where he decided to settle. The grass was not always greener.
