by James Kelman
The alsatian sentry dog's fur was scabby. Maybe the old man and woman did not care for it good. It went for the paperboy and nearly tore a chunk out his arm. Lucky for him he was wearing a new leather jerkin. The old man blamed him because of that. Oh yer jerkin is too glossy. If a dog sees a glossy thing it goes for it, it is like a rabbit running.
But rabbits are not glossy, and the leather jerkin was not either, it was just new. The paperboy had saved up for it. It was good style. Ye saw it and wished ye had it. That was only the third time he wore it out the house.
Oh but how come he was wearing a new leather jerkin if he was doing a paper run? The old man wanted to know that. But it was a Friday night. Ye wore yer school clothes through the week but no a Friday, no for collecting. That was when ye went to people's doors for the money, and ye got yer tips. Ye would not wear school clothes for that, just yer good ones. Lasses were there too, if they came to the door, they saw ye. Carolyn Smart. Her maw was Mitch's customer but I changed her to mine. Because if he did not come I had to do it. So then I just done it. Mitch got the close after to do. He did not mind. Carolyn Smart was a complete darling. She was just a complete darling, really, she was, so ye wore yer good stuff. I went home between the deliveries and the collecting. I took off my school stuff, put on my jeans and my jerkin. Mine was no leather, it was just ordinary.
Sometimes Mitch came home with me instead of his own house. My maw split my tea with the two of us and made toast and cheese to go with it. My da was usually at the pub on Friday nights after his work, it was a new job he had.
The paperboy had good style. Mitch thought it too. That leather jacket was a beauty. How come the old man did not pay for it if it was his dog done the damage? I said that to my maw. The old man should have paid for it, it was no fair.
Oh but if the paperboy was running, she said.
Well but if ye are late mum, if ye are running, the dog should not attack ye.
Dogs do not know any better.
Yes but it is the man's dog.
I do not know why his mother is buying him leather jackets anyway, she said.
Oh but it is a leather jerkin.
It is the same thing.
It is not the same thing. He bought it himself out his own money.
She did not speak after that because she did not like leather jerkins. And she did not like ordinary jerkins. And jeans too, she hated jeans. Oh they are just for keelies. It was my grannie bought me the jeans and jerkin. The jerkin was too wee and should have been a size bigger, and the jeans had too wide legs, people had tight ones, that was what I wanted. My maw did not like my grannie buying me stuff. My grannie said, He is just a boy, it does not matter.
Oh but mum it does matter.
Boys at that school had good clothes but they were no good style. I would not have wore them, they were just like for the Church and Sunday School, just posh boys and snobs, sports jackets and flannels, I hated them. That was what my maw wanted. But if I had my own money and just bought my own stuff. If it was my own money.
I still got Matt's old clothes. I did not want them, except maybe a jersey. But socks, vests and pants were the same ones, my maw kept them all in the same drawer. Ye had to look for wee ones. She bought them big so he could wear them. But it should have been him and my da because they were nearer the same, no me. I had to look for wee ones and they were just old and shrunk. At gym and the swimming ye had to change fast so people did not see. The socks were too big because with his feet. The heel bit came out the back of yer shoes.
On Fridays after tea I was fast out the house to collect the delivery money Mitch was slow. If he was coming from his own house I did not wait for him. I was going up the hill when I heard him whistling. I looked back to see him and he was crossing the burn. Smidddeh-hhhh, Smidddehhhhh. Ye heard it echoing across. I waved but I did not stop. It was a long long walk to that scheme. He had to run to catch up with me. Oh Smiddy how did ye no wait?
Because the boss was wanting the pay-in quick. And people went out after their tea. If ye were too late collecting there was nobody in to pay. Mitch did not care. Oh fuck them.
Aye but Mitch if they are paying the money.
I do not care.
But if ye have to come back on Saturday morning?
Well we are no going to run.
But we have to.
Well I am no fucking running.
Well I fucking am.
Oh fuck sake Smiddy you have always got to do the things.
Well?
Well I do not fucking want to.
Mitch was always tired. I was tired too but ye just done it, if ye got yer money, ye just done it. If it was too heavy rain doing the deliveries we did not go home before collecting. Ye finished earlier. The boss liked it because ye did the pay-in quick. And it was good for going to the BB. That started at seven o'clock so ye were nearly on time. But I did not like it. It was good going home for yer tea and then coming back out wearing yer good stuff. Freddy the driver said it too, if ye wanted good tips ye had to look the part. Oh ye have to look the part, that is what Freddy said, ye have to fucking look the part.
When we did not go home we bought crisps and lemonade off the ice-cream van and ate it up the last close. But Mitch was good at getting grub. He chapped people's doors and asked the woman for a piece on cheese or else jam. It was good if the paperboy was coming up the street. We sat down on the steps to eat the pieces when he came in the close. Oh this piece on jam is great Mitch.
Oh aye Smiddy.
Oh you bastards, where did ye get the pieces? Give me a fucking bite?
The alsatian sentry dog stayed in the second last close and we could see it poking its head out to watch the rain. Mitch said to the paperboy, See if I was you I would fucking poison it, I would get a fucking gun.
Well it is no the alsatian's fault, I said.
Oh you always fucking say that.
But it was true. The alsatian was an ex-sentry dog and bred to the security business, trained to attack thieves and robbers. The old man that owned the dog telled me about it. He only telled me because it was me that listened. He telled some good stuff. I liked hearing him. Once the old alsatian got a grip of ye it would never let go, even if ye bust its teeth with a crowbar. It would go for anybody that was suspicious so if ye ran that was you.
Ye never run with dogs. Lucky for the paperboy it was good thick leather else it would be a chunk out his flesh and blood. It was the paperboy's fault for running. If ye do not run sentry dogs will not attack ye. That was how ye trained yer dogs. Ye told it what to do and he done it and if he did not then ye got rid of it, ye sent it away for a pet. Because it was no good if it did no do what ye telled it. Alsatians were working dogs. If ye trained them right and they did not conform, well, ye had to train them right, so if they conformed, if they did not ye got rid of them.
The dog lied beside the old man when he was talking. It always watched me coming. Oh do not worry, said the old man, if that dog did not like ye ye would be dead by now. He has yer scent and it is okay.
If the dog came to sniff ye ye just had to let it. Breathe in and do not move. Say hullo son, he is saying hullo to you, just say hullo. But do not clap it.
I thought ye were to clap dogs.
Oh no son, no a dog like him, ye never clap him, never ever clap him.
Its eyes looked up at ye. Sometimes Mitch watched from along the pavement. The old man saw him. What about yer pal?
Oh he delivers the next close.
The other stuff the old man talked about was fights, fights he had with villains out the underworld. In Glasgow there was a big underworld. People were cowards with them but he was not, he just had to deal with them. That was his job. He asked about my da. I said about the Navy.
Oh that is smashing son, yer da is a serviceman. Mind you, nothing against the Navy, but it is not the same as the Army. Ye have to bash heads in the Army. That is yer job. If ye do not like it ye lump it, else ye are out. If ye cannot do the j
ob they boot ye out and quite right too.
But Civvy Street was so much the worse, they were all thieves and robbers and just low-down cheating scumbags. When he was a security guard he had to deal with them. Smack first talk later. They came at him with sticks and knifes and he had to disarm them. The same if they had guns. He had a gun himself and he shot a man but it was in line of duty. It was a service pistol and he had it planked in the lobby press. Usually it was unarmed combat. The old man was trained for it from the Army. Villains did not know what real fighting was. So with his training he could beat the living daylights out them. These villains were all cowards especially if ye got them alone, ye just waited and then ye got them. Oh do not hit me do not hit me do not hit me! They were all just scared and cowards. No unless it was a real fighter. Some were real fighters and ye could spot them a mile away, so then ye had to caw canny. Ye just caw canny.
The old villains were like that, they were rough and ready. They were not sleakit and did not knife ye, that was one thing. They were not fly men cheaters. It was a square go. Ye had to fight hand to hand. That was unarmed combat. If yer training was up to the minute ye were a jump ahead.
The paperboy did not believe it. I was telling him and Mitch. We were waiting for the rain to go off, sitting on the steps of the last close for a last smoke. Oh he is just talking shite, said the paperboy, you believe everything he says.
Do I fuck, I said.
He is just a boasting old bastard.
No he is not.
Aye he fucking is.
He is, said Mitch.
But maybe he was not. The old man telled me about sailors down the docks that were foreigners and had their own way of doing it. They walked in and threw ye over their shoulder or else put ye flat on yer back. Ye had to be fast and slippery like them. If ye were nobody could hold ye, ye got out their grasp and slipped away. They had different ways of doing it. The main thing was turning yer man. And that was right because my granda showed me that when I was a wee boy, how ye just get yer man when he is coming in just getting his hand and oh pull him through and knock him over and he is off balance and that is it, he is down and ye just can get him. It did not matter if they were bigger than ye. The bigger the better.
Oh yer granda is right, said the old man. One time he was wrestling a big foreigner and the big foreigner came in and the way he did it the old man got his arm and pulled him through and just turned him and bumped him over so then he got him down easy and had his hand up his back. Do ye surrender? No. Do ye surrender? No. So he done it harder, till, Aye, aye, and the big foreigner had to surrender.
Because if he did not, the old man could have broke his arm in two. Mitch was listening but the paperboy did not believe it. That old cunt is a liar and a boaster. He is a fucking fanny-merchant.
No but my granda too, I said, that is how he done it.
The paperboy just looked. But if he thought my granda was a boaster he was very wrong. My granda showed me and I could do it. So could my brother. One time it was us all and Uncle Billy and we were practising and it was Matt to get Uncle Billy and he did! He got him, Matt got him! We were all clapping, Uncle Billy too. So then granda showed me and it was me to get him the same way and I nearly did. The paperboy just shook his head when I said it, but it was true, it really was.
Smiddy is right, said Mitch.
Mitch knew because I showed him in Primary School. Yer man came in and ye grabbed his wrist and pulled it through and he was off balance, ye just shoved him hard and got him down.
It is just shite, said the paperboy.
It is no shite.
Fuck off man.
Naw, stand up and I will show ye.
Fuck off
Oh come on.
No.
Come on and I will show ye.
He will just fucking show ye, said Mitch.
Oh for fuck sake, said the paperboy, but he got up. Do not do anything daft, I am fucking warning ye.
But I was no going to. I just showed him how ye push yer man off balance, if he is attacking ye, so ye get his arm to follow through, pulling him and giving him a shove. Kid on ye are going to throw a punch, I said.
No.
Come on.
I cannot be fucking bothered.
Oh come on.
He took a deep breath then laid down his fag and put his hands up, then threw his left. The very one. I went with my side to him and got his wrist to pull him through and got him down easy, right on his side, but all the money came out his pockets, all rolling over the ground. Oh for fuck sake my tips my tips, ya fucking bastard. He jumped up right away and picked up the money. Look at my fucking jeans too, fucking mud all over them!
It was the side of his jeans, damp and some mud over them. Mitch laughed.
Oh what ye fucking laughing at? said the paperboy.
Nothing, said Mitch.
It isnay fucking funny. What did ye no tell me ye were going to do that for? You should have fucking telled me!
I did not mean it, I said.
Look at the fucking state of the jeans!
They are just damp.
The paperboy shook his head and went away. That was him. That was what he done. He went in bad huffs. He done it a lot. Any stuff where ye beat him, he hated it. If Mitch was no there and I finished my deliveries first, he really hated it and it was excuses. Oh I was late starting the night. The papers were late. People kept me back. I was short of papers and had to go and get more. He wanted to know about tips too, if we had the same customer. Oh how much of a tip does she give ye? So he always wanted to go first on Fridays and it was to get the first tip. Freddy the driver telled me that, First one to the door gets the biggest tip.
One time I climbed a veranda for a woman that was locked out and he hated that too. Just because I done it and no him. I telled Mitch. Mitch said, Aye but Smiddy you are the best climber.
Then if it was fighting, if it was real fighting, probably he would have beat me. I think he would have, maybe, but maybe no. But he would never have beat Mitch. I did not say it to him but I knew Mitch would beat him. The paperboy thought because he was older he would win but he would not, it was not ages to beat people. The paperboy was daft if he thought that. He just acted tough and said a lot of stuff. If the alsatian sentry dog went for him ever again he was going to tell the cops and get it destroyed.
Ye destroy a dog is ye kill it. I would never kill a dog. Whose fault is it? It is not the dog's fault. I did not think that was fair.
How come he did not get friends with it? Ye just walked in the close slow, and ye went to it so it saw ye, just slow and if ye talked to it, Oh good boy, good boy, how are ye son, how are ye, are ye okay. And no putting yer hands up, and keeping in full view so the thing could see ye. If ye ran ye would disturb it and ye did not want that. Ye done it bit by bit by bit. If the dog was in the garden that was good. If it was by the steps up the close it was worse. All ye could do was go in slow and no look at it. Ye heard the rumble in its throat and knew its eyes were watching but ye had to carry on. But ye listened for a swishing noise. That was its tail. If ye heard that then it was coming behind ye. Ye did not know till ye heard the swishing. Ye just walked on, not changing yer pace because not to surprise it.
And do not run. Oh never never. Never run. I told Mitch that all the time. He would not even go in the close. With dogs ye must never run, even wee dogs. That was the last thing. The alsatian sentry dog would not have bit the paperboy if he had not run. The old man said that and it was true. If ye were feared of dogs they knew it. That was a thing with them. People said they were no clever but they were. They were cleverer than cats. People said cats were the best but to me it was dogs. Cats were just how they done things but dogs were looking at ye all the time so if it was people that was how they knew, they were always looking at ye.
Ye had to watch it. If ye were feared ye acted like ye were not. If ye could forget about it, that was what ye did. Think about other things. If yer school has their
football team and you are playing for them and ye score a good goal or cross over a good ball for somebody So if it was for Scotland, imagine it was Scotland Schoolboys played England Schoolboys and beat them 5–3, just one complete team from all the boys, RCs too. It was a real football park and ye ran out the tunnel onto the pitch, then sent over the cross and the centre scored the winner. Even just the BB wee team on a Saturday morning if ye are playing for them. But what if they do not pick ye. Oh you cannot play because ye do not come to the Fall In. But I have to do my deliveries. Oh that does not matter.
Ye just thought of all stuff, just whatever it was and went away thinking about it, then ye forgot about the dog.
***
I carried the delivery sacks inside my school bag so there was no much room. But I hated the school bag anyway, it looked like Primary School. Boys in my class had other ones, just better ones. If I did not have the delivery sacks I would not have brought it, just used my pockets. Then if I went over to my grannie's I would no have had to carry it.
I liked no having to worry about things, bags and books and exercise jotters and pencils and pens. It was all stuff ye did not need. But if a teacher got ye it was hard luck. I was to read a passage out a book for English and was going to borrow it from a boy when one saw me. Where is your book?
I forgot it sir.
You firgoat it.
He came up to the desk and looked down at my school bag. What do you keep in there anyway? I am asking you a question boy. Open your school bag! Are you deaf? Open your school bag! Open it when I tell you. Will you open that school bag! Now!
The class all were watching. I did not care. Who cared about him, no me. He knew what it was, that was in my school bag. I saw he did. How did he know? He just did. I opened the school bag and pulled the sacks out. Maybe somebody told him. I did not care anyway. He held his hand out and I gave him one. What is this? he said.
