A Dogs Life
Well then, how do you and I go our separate ways? I really do need to get home. Its nippy out, mused Fred.
He took a cautious step toward the dog, hoping guilt might stir within its enormous, furry chest and it would wander off somewhere else. No luck. The mighty mutt lay flat as a doormat, utterly immovable.
*****
Fred had spent the past few hours in the Dog and Duck pub, sharing a tipple or eight with his best mate, Simon.
So, Freddie, one more for the road? Simon said, sloshing the remains of a vodka carafe in Freds direction.
Of course! Fred beamed, nudging his empty shot glass to the middle of the sticky table.
Tonight, Fred had more than a few.
It wasnt for lack of trying to limit himself; its just that unwinding had become something of an extreme sport, and his nerves had been stretched so tight they practically vibrated when he walked. Life had been tossing him lemons left, right and centre.
Chances were, hed be out of a job by Monday. His wifewell, ex-wife as of last monthhad left him because
Irreconcilable differences, shed called it.
That was her official line.
But honestly, the problem wasnt that their personalities clashed or that he left used teabags in the sink. Theyd muddled through two years, hadnt they? Then suddenly, as if overnight, he was no longer fit for purpose as a husband. Bang. Out the door.
Think shes found someone else? Simon asked, knocking back his vodka in one.
Definitely. She agreed to the divorce far too quickly and moved her stuff out in record time. Where to? She didnt even own a flat in this city.
Bit dodgy, that, int it? And about your jobare you certain theyre going to give you the sack?
My boss, Mr. Johnson, said he needed a serious word in his office Monday morning. Which clearly means: pack your desk, Fred. Whatever, though. Been meaning to scrape myself out of that company for ages.
So, whats next for you? Simon swirled the vodka, squinting as if peering into the future.
If Im honest, Si, I havent the faintest.
Tell you what: I could take a week off work, yeah? Well go fishing, like when we were lads. Proper old-school breather. Besides, my better half has started nagging about the usual: late nights, pouring our wages into the pub, not doing my bit at home. Im over it, mate.
You know…thats a cracking idea. Cant remember the last time I dangled a rod. Just let me know ahead of time so I can buy gear and a hat that doesnt make me look ninety.
No sooner than a week from now. The motors still in the garage.
Whats wrong with the car? You didnt really explain.
Dog jumped right under the wheels! I was minding my own, and then bammassive hound, right in the headlights.
It threw itself under the car?
Thats right, a tank of a dog. Now Ive got a dent down the right side. Im so sick of stray animals, honestly. Theyre nothing but trouble.
I hear you. Dogs should be with owners or in shelters. Not roaming the streets.
Exactly.
You know, my ex even complained a while back that a dog attacked her. She was just walking home, apparently, minding her business, when a monster of a mutt leapt from the bushes straight at her. She could barely make it to the front door, poor thing.
There you have it! Simon banged the table. Theyve got no fear anymore, these animals. The only way to deal with them is to put them down. No other way to sort this mess.
*****
An hour later the pair staggered out of the pub, hugged a bit too enthusiastically at the door, and shuffled off to their respective homes.
Although, in reality, only Simon had the luxury of a five-minute journey. Fred faced a bracing twenty-minute walk.
He didnt bother with a taxinot for want of saving the fare (since when was £8 too dear for inner peace?)but because he fancied the walk. A bit of cool London air, a chance to try lining up his scrambled thoughts.
This last bit proved trickier than expected, given that, after three carafes of vodka, the neurons were less firing synapses and more trying to find the pub toilets.
He glanced at his watchalmost midnight. That turned into a proper session, he snorted.
*****
When Fred finally arrived at his block of flats, there it wasa giant dog, sprawled right in front of the main entrance.
Flat as a pancake on the frosty concrete, it stared into the abyss. Its eyes…
They struck Fred as deeply odd. Like there was no soul left inside.
Oi, mate, what are you doing here? Be a good chap and move along.
The dog was enormousFred, even with all his vodka-induced bravado, knew he couldnt shift the beast by force. Maybe by sheer cheek?
Come on, off you trot. Find somewhere else for a nap. You cant sleep here.
Nothing. The dog remained statuesque, staring straight through him at nothing.
Honestly, how do I get past you? I need to get home and its blooming cold.
Fred edged closer, still hoping the dog might see reason and remove itself with good grace. No such luck. The hulking brute didnt even flick an ear.
Simons right. You lot only understand drastic measures. Normal conversations wasted!
With all the courage he could muster, Fred gave the dog a gentle nudge with his shoe.
Grrrr!
Oh, so were growling? Not even the slightest shame talking to people that way, eh? Fred grinned, half amused, half exasperated.
Grrrr!
Look at you! Youre supposed to be mans best friend, not behaving like people are your sworn enemies. Lost your sense of decency, havent you? You know what happens to dogs like that?
Grrrr!
Clearly, polite negotiations werent going to win the day. So, scraping the bottom of his barrel of ideas, Fred raised his arm in earnest, thinking maybe a bit of pantomime might send the message.
He couldnt have predicted what happened next.
The dog, mustering the last of its strength, managedjustto rise, limped a few paces, then hurled itself at Fred.
He barely had time to yelp before the impact sent him teetering backwards, legs entangled, and he landed on a bench, cracking his head.
Everything went black. The last thing he saw: that haunting, empty dog stare.
*****
Fred eventually came toit was broad daylight. Crikey, how long was I out?
He groaned upright from the freezing ground, glancing about nervously.
He couldnt risk a neighbour spotting him. All it took was a whiff of scandal and the gossip grapevine would thrive until the next general election.
Thankfully, all seemed clear. Three elderly ladies sat on the nearby bench, grumbling about the water being off in the building.
People strolled by. Strangers. Kids played on the swings. No one paid Fred the barest hint of mind.
It was as if he didnt exist.
Am I even here? Fred thought in horror.
He recalled everything: the angry mutt, the fall, the crack to his head. Lost consciousnessnow what on earth had happened to him?
Fred pinched his cheek. Ouch!
So, I can still feel pain. That means Im not dead, right?
Morning! Fred called to the old ladies on the bench. Can you see me? Hello?
No reply. They chatted on, none so much as glanced in his direction.
What in the world
He looked more closelyat the bench, his flat, the playground. Something was off. Decidedly off.
Then he saw it: everything was almost right, but not quite. The bench, for examplesame shape, but painted a different colour. The playgroundlast year, it had all been refitted, yet here stood the old swing set. I dont understand
He walked to the door, where a single notice hung:
Residents of Number 18. Due to a burst pipe, all hot and cold water is off until further notice.
In small print: 19 September 2014.
What? How can I be in 2014I was in 2024 last I checked! This is bonkers. Maybe someones pranking me?
He double-checked the house number. Definitely his blockthe one hed bought his flat in three years ago. The street and number matched. Only the setting around him was off.
Of course, ten years ago, I wasnt living here. Thats why nothing looks familiar. What am Iback in the past? No way, not possible.
Fred returned to the old ladies, poked one gently in the shoulder.
Felt the contact, but still, no reaction.
Brilliant. I must be dreaming, not woken up after the knock on the headmy brains having a field day.
He was about to wander about until reality (or whatever this was) reappeared, when he noticed the dog in the playground.
Looking closer, he recognised it instantlyit was the same mutt that had barrelled him over by the flat. Only now, it was a puppy. Six or seven months old, no more.
How did Fred know? The markings and the eyesthose eyes were unforgettable, burned into memory.
Alongside the puppy was a boy, no older than nine, in shorts, T-shirt and sunglasses.
The way the boy conducted himself, it was obviousthey were in the middle of some ill-advised obedience training.
Fred was curious, so he went to observe, thinking, Turns out the dog wasnt always homeless What happened to put him on the streets?
He wasnt sure he wasnt dreaming, or if this was actually happening. But, well, might as well satisfy ones curiosity, since he had the chance.
Sit! Lie down! Sit! shouted the boy loudly and repeatedly. Why are you so stupid?
Whats stupid about him? Fred wondered, as he approached.
The puppy earnestly performed every command, eager to please his young owner.
Sit! Lie down! Sit! The boy repeated, as though playing the worlds most monotonous tape.
Fred watched, simmering inside, as the boy began gently whacking the dog with a cheap plastic sword in rhythm with his endless commands.
Is this kid right in the head? Fred thought angrily. Who leaves a puppy with a child like that?
Fred felt the urge to intervenebut before he could, the boy whirled round to a man nearby.
Dad, I dont want a dog anymore. Its boring! I want a games console!
A man in his forties walked over, ruffled his sons hair, took him by the hand, and off they went.
Off to buy a console, I guess, Fred surmised. Onlythey didnt take the dog along.
The puppy sat still, baffled, then barked plaintively and darted after his family. The boy, in a fit of unmatched callousness, kicked the puppy so hard it rolled across the pavement to the kerb.
I dont want you! Youre stupid! Go away! he shouted.
The father, naturally, said nothing. Couldnt care less what his son did.
Well, the apple doesnt fall far from the tree, Fred thought.
When the family disappeared round the corner, Fred tried to comfort the puppybut, no matter what he did, he couldnt touch, couldnt pick him up. It dawned on him:
Right. Im just a ghostly spectator here. Watch all you like but keep your hands to yourselfjust like at the cinema.
So, he watched the puppys life unfold. How it loyally waited by the entrance for owners who never returned. How the disturbed boy occasionally beat it with his toy sword, while his silent father carried home the new console. Not even the bench-dwelling grannies so much as muttered about animal welfarethey just grumbled about the broken plumbing.
For three whole days and nights, the puppy clung to the playground, staring towards home.
But no one came back. The puppy was left to fend for itself.
Desperate for food, the puppy started loitering by the bins, living on scrapswhen luck allowed.
Eventually, the dog found a new companiona tramp as rootless as he. The only difference: this companion wore trousers.
Time in this surreal half-world moved as it pleasedsometimes whizzing forward, sometimes dragging.
Initially, the tramp seemed kindhe shared whatever edible rubbish he found, talked to the puppy under the stars. Then, one day, for a bottle of vodka, he sold him to a stranger.
This new man kept the dog at his allotment shed for several months, half-starved and chained in a garage for most of it.
An odd bone here, a heap of snow for water there.
Fred could barely hold back the tears. How can people be so cruel?
When drunk, the new owner would thrash the dog with a stickjust because.
“You need strength! Endurance! No whining, you hear? Ill make a proper guard dog out of you! hed shout.
After six months, when the dog was given a rare moment off the chain, he boltedfar as he could.
Now came the vagrant days.
The dog kept hoping for people to treat him kindly. This spark of hope lived onmaybe hed find someone out there, someone in need of him.
But people rejected him at every turnrailway stations, markets, shops. Wherever he went, he was driven away.
Each day, the dog felt more a pariah. He lived hand to mouth, but
unbelievable as it soundsnever once did he growl at a person. Even under abuse, he endured with all the dignity a stray could muster. You could see the misery in his eyes.
Not because he was rejected over and over, but because, amongst all these so-called people, hed never met one who was truly human.
You! Clear off! The council sweeper would shout, brandishing his broom if the dog strayed too close. Leave enough mess as it is! Go onshoo!
No puppy dog eyes at me! the butcher bellowed at the market. This meats for people, not the likes of you.
Hello, yestheres a massive dog off the lead in the park. Come quickly! some lady frantically reported to the council dog catchers.
Meanwhile, the dog was minding his business, snoozing beneath a tree for shade. When the men in van arrived, he had to leg it from his brief haven.
There was next to nothing bright in this dogs existence. Beaten, chased, called names, pelted with the odd stone. And still, he searched…
…for his PERSON.
Someone to finally need him. Though, deep down, he had stopped believing anyone like that existed.
Fred trailed after this blighted beast, and with every new heartbreak, found himself hating the human race that bit more. At least, the humans who fancied themselves teachers or triers of stray dogsthe ones who made him pay, in words or blows, for breathing their air.
Hes not done anything wrong! Fred shouted. Hes just trying to survive!
Of course, no one could hear him. Fred was only left choking on impotent fury and unfairness at a world that forgot those who saw humans as friends.
The dog didnt even have a name.
So, Fred decided to fix that.
I know you cant hear me. I know no one ever named you. But thats not right. Im going to call you Rex. I think it suits you.
*****
One time, Rex accomplished a heroic feat. He saved a five-year-old boy from a drunken e-scooter rider tearing down the path in the park like a kamikaze.
The toddlers mum, busy on her phone, her back conveniently turned, had no idea her childs life flashed before her eyes. But Fred saw how Rex pushed the boy onto the grass, barking furiously.
Mum spun round just in time to see the dog sitting protectively beside her sobbing child.
Help! Somebody help! That dog attacked my son! she screeched, clutching her hair in distress.
Local heroes converged with sticks and stones, laying chase to punish the villainous hound.
Rex managed to escape by the skin of his teeth. He never set paw in that park again.
Days slipped into nights, weeks sprinted by, years gathered dust.
Rex haunted Freds neighbourhoodthe place of his betrayal.
Life went on with little excitement. Until Fred saw something extraordinary
There was Rex, dozing on the pavement, as Freds ex-wife, Sophie, strolled homeon the arm of none other than Mr. Johnson, Freds erstwhile boss.
Well then! Fred exclaimed. Didnt realise they even knew each other.
In actual life, Fred was on a work trip that day, so Sophie and Mr. Johnson werent concerned about being caught.
When are you going to leave him? I cant bear living in that huge house on my own, Mr. Johnson crooned.
Soon, darling. I think itll be sorted in the next few months.
Darling?! Hes twenty years her senior, for goodness sake!
Sophie was so engrossed in flirting, she trod squarely on Rexs tail.
Startled, Rex barkednot threateningly, just terrified by the pain.
You wretched dog! Cant you see people are walking here? Sophie fished a pepper spray from her bag and emptied it in Rexs direction.
He fled, whimpering, but under a cloud of stinging spray, nearly bowled her over, then skittered into the bushes.
So thats your dog attack from the bushes story? Fred fumed.
Hed believed his ex without questionhalf the street had hunted the dangerous dog for weeks, to no avail.
That wasnt the last surprise. One night, Rex, crossing the road, spotted a kitten.
A shivering fluffball, stranded on the cold tarmac, lost in the jungle of London. Suddenly, headlights arced around the corner.
Rex leapt to shield the kitten, hoping the driver would swerve. But the bloke at the wheel only slammed harder on the pedal.
Through the windscreen, Fred caught a glimpse of the driver: his own mate, Simon, grinning drunkenly.
So even he lied to me?
Rex grabbed the kitten by the scruff, but in those vital seconds, the car clipped him.
Howling with pain, Rex made it to the kerb, gently released the kitten, and watched as the door flew open and a bellowed voice spat:
Cant you see Im driving here?! Standing there like you own the bloody road! Next time, you wont be so lucky.
Fred saw itthe first time blood rushed into Rexs eyes. The dog looked ready to lunge, but Simon scrambled back to the car and buggered off.
And to think I trusted you, Simon. Some friend.
Fred shadowed Rex, whose limp grew more obvious with every step. As darkness closed in, Fred felt his head spinthen everything disappeared.
*****
Fred awoke beside his front door.
His skull ached, it was nearly midnight, and his watch blinked 23:55. With effort, he hauled himself upright on to the bench.
By the locked door, the same dog lay motionless, eyes flat and lifeless.
Perhaps nothing had changedexcept, in those fleeting moments, Fred had lived ten years of a battered dogs life.
Dream or real, Fred now understood: the dog needed help. No one else would step up.
Rex Fred said softly. Dont worry. I wont hurt you.
The dog looked up, wagged his tail just a bit.
Tried to stand, failed. He had scarcely any strength leftor reason to keep going.
Whats the point? Fred wondered. In a world where nobody cares, why bother?
Without a word, Fred crouched, stroked the dogs head, and gently lifted him up. He opened the door, carried him into the gloom of the stairwell. Far above shimmered a little light.
A glimmer of hope.
Hes been through enough. I can’t just leave him, Fred thought, climbing to the fourth floorhis flat, where once a puppy with no name had been carried home.
*****
For a solid week, Fred hardly left Rexs side. He took him to the vet, walked him in the early morning mist and the pink of dusk, bathed him with the fanciest dog shampoo in the aisle.
Ill get you back on your paws, mate. You mustnt give upnot on my watch.
Without meaning to, Fred was restoring faith in humanityat least, for one old, battered soul. Rex, at long last, felt wanted. Even if only by one person.
But one is enough for a dog.
Hed live another whole dogs life for just one more meeting with his PERSON.
*****
Fred had just come back from the evening walk when the phone rang.
All right, Freddie! Simons boisterous voice called. The cars out of the shopfishings on for tomorrow, then. You ready?
Hi, Simon. Change of plans: fishings off.
What? But you were all for it! I bought a crate of lager, rented a two-man tent. Spent a fortune, mate!
Suppose its wasted, then, isnt it? And, actually Dont call me again. Ever.
What? You serious? But were mates!
Fred hung up without further ado.
Then he looked down at his dog and smiled.
Dont need friends who hate dogs, do we, Rex?
Woof!Rex trotted over to Freds feet, gazing up at him with soulful gratitude. He didnt need lager, tents, or lost friends. He needed, simply, to belong.
And Fred, with the slow wonder of a man starting over, realized he did, too.
Later, by the window as the citys evening shimmered gold and violet across the rooftops, Fred sat cross-legged on the carpet while Rex curled his vast form across Freds lap. Freds fingers wound through sleeping fur, feeling bones under the softness, and quietly whispered, Well make new memories, eh? Weve both had our share of rubbish years. Time for something better. I promise.
Outside, laughter drifted from balconies, car horns called in the dusk, but Fred felt a strange, gentle hush insidea peace long forgotten. He didnt know what tomorrow would bring. Maybe thered be rescue dogs, maybe new neighbors, maybe even love, somewhere down the line.
But for tonight, in a flat that had been echoing with emptiness for too long, something shifted: a heartbeat steadier, a soul lighter, the shadows at bay.
Rex sighed, nuzzling closer. Fred leaned back, watching as headlights danced across the ceiling and the big dogs tail thumped contentedly against the floor, keeping time with the pulse of home found at last.
In that quiet, perfect moment, Fred understood:
Sometimes, its not the world thats cruel. Sometimes, its just waiting for someoneman, dog, any battered heartto give kindness first.
And here, on a patch of threadbare carpet in a modest fourth-floor flat, was the start of forgiveness and a second chance.
Fred smiled.
Welcome home, Rex.
The answer was a gentle, grateful wag.
And for the first time in too many years, Fred felt needed. He feltfinallylike the best kind of human.
Which, as it happened, is all any dog ever asks.
