Out of the Ordinary

'She's an Alaskan Malamute.'

'Say what now?' 

I must admit I didn't really appreciate being woken up this early on a Saturday. I looked at my watch. 10.55. AM. 'You, bastard! Look at the time!'

'Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry, mate.'

Things hadn't been the same between us since Tori died. I don't know if it was just me or whether Gray had been hit bad too. They had dated for a couple of months before Tori and I got together but she'd always said it wasn't serious. To be honest I didn't really care about anyone else.

'It's just for a couple of days. I've got to get home. Ma's poorly and Dad's fallen apart. She's no bother, honestly. Well, y'know, beyond the obvious. Food, walks, shits in the woods... that sort of thing. What I mean is she's really well-behaved, y'know, when you go out, like... And she won't shit in the house.'

'Oh, fuck! All right, you bastard. But you're going to fucking owe me.'

'Yeah, 'course! That goes without... Y'know, like, understood.'

'Owe me big! What did you call it?'

'She's called Yeika.'

'Right. What?'

'Yeika!'

'Yeika? OK.'

'It means strong, graceful.'

'Oh, OK. But what type is it? You said...'

'Malamute. Alaskan Malamute. It's an Inuit sledding dog, y'know, like a huskie only a bit bigger and more out of the ordinary. She's special this dog. Honestly. You won't want to give her back, I promise you. I've only had her two months but already it's really fucking me over having to leave her. You'll love her, I guarantee it.'

'Get the fuck out of here, man, before I change my mind.'

Well, I was up now, with a monster dog in the lounge, so I went through into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

I heard its paws clicking on the vinyl behind me and it just stood and looked at me, its head to one side.

'What?' I said.

Its head changed to the other angle and it stepped forward a little to me. Snout straight into my groin, nudging my dick through my pjs.

'Fuck off, mate!' I said, gently pushing its nose out. But it'd evidently got all the info it needed because it wandered back through to the lounge over to the window. Paws up on the sill looking out through the nets.

'Get down,' I said. 'You're not meant to be here!'

And it did – straight away. Amazing.

The landlord was a bit of an arse and would kick up a stink if he knew there was a dog in the flat. He hadn't liked the iguana, and we never really got on until that snuffed it.

I got my coffee and sat on the couch sipping at it and looking at this fucking mad-looking animal that had just been landed on me. Mind you, it was good looking. For a dog. Thick hair. Well, you know, fur. Mostly thick grey but under its belly was white and black on its head. But like with a white face. Tail curled up across its back.

'What the fuck am I going to do with you?' I said out loud.

It wandered over towards me, stopping half way to stretch and yawn. Biggest fucking teeth I'd ever seen! And a tongue like a side of ham, for fuck's sake. Then it came right on over to where I was sitting, sat down on her haunches and laid her head in my lap. Oh my fucking God! It looked up at me – huge grey eyes – eyebrows kind of pulled up in the middle. Do dogs have fucking eyebrows? Yes of course they do. Well this one did, anyhow.

And she just looked at me. And darts went into my heart.

'Oh, God!' I said. 'Look, I'm not a dog person, right. Let's get that straight right now. I'm just not a dog person. I'm not a cat person either but that's not the poi...' Her eyes. Fuck!

She just sat there, her head on my lap.

I couldn't help myself, I just reached out my hand and rested it on her head. Not stroking mind, I just rested it. She moved her head a little under my hand and I had to readjust its position. And she moved again and so, yes, I moved again and then before you knew it I was stroking the top of her head and watching her eyelids droop down a little, you know, like she really liked it. And her warm fur under my hand was just, well, you know...

So next thing I know we're out in the park and she's walking beside me like she has done all her life. She's not pulling or tugging at the lead or anything. Just calmly walking along beside me like we're out together on a date or something just taking time, you know. Not talking, just walking. That's what you want, isn't it? Someone you can just be with, that you don't have to think of smart things to say all the time. Yeah, like Tori. Fuck. I reckon you find out more about somebody when they're not talking than you do when they are. Tori knew me – and I knew her

And anyway I'm feeling cock o' the north because, well, for fuck's sake, she's a fucking handsome dog. Fuck that, she's beautiful. She's fucking beautiful. And all these other dog-walkers are out there with their mutts and they're all looking at me as if to say. 'Fuck! You beauty!' And all their little pooches are straining at their leads to come over and have a sniff at her. And some that are off the lead do come over and are sniffing round her arse and she doesn't give them any attention. She just keeps on walking. And I'm trying to get them to keep off her but she's not bothered at all. Even when one or two start barking at her as if to say 'Come on, you stuck up bitch.'

And to be honest, she is a bit of a stuck up bitch! But I reckon that's a good thing.

And one thing's for certain. Gray's not getting her back.

Ice cold

these legs are stiff

these claws that used to tick upon the floor

and scruff this ear

are deadly still

this tail that used to brush my foot

or beat the table leg

is fixed in place

they said

that if this nose was cool and wet

then he was fit

but

touch it now

Ice cold

In the Queue, too

Dawn was rather overcast and gloomy when I walked in this morning, but she cheered up a little when she got her rosy-tipped fingers on the bundle of notes I brought for her to count.  She flicked the corners up with deft digits and bundled them into hundreds before filing them away in her money drawer.

No Rose today, Ron was sat in the middle at “Cashier No2, please.”  Judging by the clouds that hovered around Dawn, Ron was not having a good day.  By the doubtful sideways glances that Dawn was giving him I could tell he didn’t really know what he was doing.

            -  You’ll have to start that again, she said, nodding at the job in hand.  No, you’ll have to recount.

She sighed quietly while he started again.

Dawn entered the amounts on her keyboard and I handed her the cheques as Ron finally sold his customer a second class and sent her on her way.  She was not best pleased either, judging by the way she swung her bag for life off the counter.  The automatic door was definitely not quick enough for her this morning.

Just then Ahmed walked in from the Medina Stores next door clutching a piece of paper.  He saw Ron behind the glass and hesitated a moment, but he approached the counter.  A bit warily, though, I thought.

Doreen had evidently been out the back making tea because in she comes now with three mugs – two in one hand, one in the other – and a packet of Abernethy under her arm.  She delivered the mugs along the counter, reversed her large behind up onto her stool and deftly whipped the easy-open strip from around the biscuits.

            -  Hello, Ahmed, she called across, snapping a biscuit and dunking a piece in her tea.

            -  Hello, Doreen.

            -  Do you fancy a nibble, ducky?  She winked at me as her lipsticked mouth engulfed the soggy, crumbling fragment.

Ahmed grunted as he passed his paper under the glass to Ron, who studied it, front and back, as if he wasn’t sure what he should be doing with it.

            -  What’s this?  he said

            -  It’s me gas bill, said Ahmed, I need to pay it.

            -  Well I know that!  I can see that!  But what’s this… this mark here… what’s that.  Looks like a big “C”. 

He flapped the bill at Ahmed

            -  Oh that, said Ahmed, it’s coffee.  I put me cup down on it yesterday.  That’s what reminded me to pay it.

Ron huffed.

            - I can hardly make out the numbers.  You should be more careful.

He acted out holding it up close to his face and studying hard.

            -  You don’t want to get yourself cut off, eh, Ahmed, said Doreen.

            -  No, certainly not.

Dawn was just starting to sort my change out, sixty eight pounds’ worth, when something caught my eye behind her on the floor.  A sudden blurry, furry movement.  A rat? – no surely not.  It couldn’t be – not in a post office.

I said nothing.

Dawn tipped herself off her stool and bowled over to the change drawer.  She stood there rifling through the various packets of pennies and two pence pieces.  I’d been looking at the Health Lotto cards wondering what the odds were when suddenly there was a sharp yelping noise and a small brown pointed face jumped up in front of me and immediately disappeared again.  Another yelp and the face appeared again, jumping even higher, before falling back down.

            -  Timothy! get down, snapped Dawn.

Once more the yelp and a small brown dog appeared, jumping up behind the counter in a desperate attempt to get onto it!  He looked as if he’d take my fingers off if he could get at them.

            - That’s some jump he’s got on him, I said, glad of the glass between us.

            -  He’ll get his muzzle on him in a minute, said Dawn.

Once again the little dog jumped .  Again, and again.

            -  Timothy! growled Dawn.  How many times have I told you?  Right.

She dropped the bags of change she was counting out, went to her handbag on the floor by the back wall and pulled out a length of black cloth.  She marched over towards my window and the bouncing dog, and flipped the cloth strap onto the counter.  The buckle clicked loudly against the glass.  

She held out a finger of admonition.

            -  I’m not joking! she said.

I could tell she wasn’t.  We could all tell she wasn’t.  Even Timothy could tell she wasn’t.  I couldn’t see him now, down on the floor, but I could imagine his little face, his cowed eyes, his lively tail starting to droop as the thought of the muzzle filled his tiny, bouncing head.

Dawn turned to look at me from hooded lids.  She still wasn’t joking.

In The Queue