Fluke

‘Fluke,’ she said. ‘Fluke. That’s a funny name for a dog. And no address. Some people are very careless, aren’t they? I haven’t seen you around before, I wonder where you’ve come from? Bet you’ve run away, haven’t you? Let me look at your footies… ‘ She lifted a paw. ‘Yes, they’re sore, aren’t they? You’ve come a long way. Been badly treated, haven’t you? Thin as a rake. It isn’t right.’

My hunger was making me a little impatient by now and I whimpered again, just to give her the idea.

‘Yes, yes. I know what you want, don’t I? Something for your tummy?’ It’s a pity people have to talk to animals as though they were children, but I was in a forgiving mood and willing to put up with a lot more than baby-talk. I thumped my tail on the carpet in the hope that she would take that for an affirmative to her question. ‘Course you do,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you something.’

The kitchen was tiny, and lying in a basket on the floor, fast asleep, was Victoria.

Victoria was the meanest, surliest cat I’ve ever come across, either before or since that time. Now these feline creatures are renowned for their tetchiness, for they believe they’re a race apart from other animals and well above you lot, but this monster took the prize. She sat bolt upright, her fur bristling and her tail ramrod-straight. She hissed disgustedly at me.

‘Take it easy, cat,’ I said anxiously. Tm only passing through.’

‘Now you settle down, Victoria,’ said Miss Birdie, equally anxious. ‘This poor doggie is starving. I’m just giving him something to eat, then we’ll send him on his way.’

But it’s no good trying to talk sense to a cat, they just won’t listen. Victoria was out of her basket in a flash, up on to the sink and through the half-open kitchen window.

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Miss Birdie, ‘you’ve upset Victoria now,’ and then this nice old lady gave me a hefty kick in the ribs.

I was so shocked I thought I’d imagined it, but the pain in my side told me otherwise.

‘Now let’s see what we’ve got,’ Miss Birdie said thoughtfully, her index finger in the corner of her mouth as she looked up into the cupboard she’d just opened. It was as though nothing had happened and I wondered again if anything actually had. The throb in my side assured me something had.

I kept a safe distance between us after that and watched her warily when she placed a bowl of chopped liver before me. The food was delicious but marred by my sudden nervousness of the old lady. I just couldn’t understand what had happened. I licked the bowl clean and said thank you, very aware of my manners now. She fondled my ears and chuckled approvingly at the empty bowl.

‘You were hungry, weren’t you?’ she said. ‘I’ll bet you’re thirsty now. Let’s give you some water.’ She filled the same bowl with water and placed it before me again. I lapped it up greedily.

‘Now you come with me and rest those poor weary legs.’ I followed her back into the main room and she patted a hairy rug in front of the unlit fire. ‘Rest there, nice and comfy, and I’ll just light the fire for us. It’s still too cold for my old bones, you know. I like the warm.’ She prattled on as she put a match to the already laid fire, her words soft and comforting. I became confident again, sure that the strange incident which had taken place in the kitchen was merely a slight lapse on her part, caused by the shock of seeing her beloved pet cat leaping through the window. Or maybe she’d slipped. I dozed off as she sat in the armchair before the fire, her words lulling me into a warm feeling of security.

I woke in time for lunch, which wasn’t much, she being an old lady living on her own, but she gave me a good portion of it. The cat returned and was further put out at the sight of me gobbling down food which she felt was rightfully hers. However, Miss Birdie made a big fuss of her, running into the kitchen and returning with an opened tin of catfood. She poured some of it on to a small plate and laid it before the sour-faced mog. With a menacing look at me, Victoria began to eat in that jerky cat fashion, neatly but predatorily, so unlike the clumsy, lip-smacking manner of us dogs. My portion of Miss Birdie’s lunch was soon gone and I casually sauntered over to Victoria to see how she was doing, ready to help her clean her plate, should the need arise. A spiteful hiss warned me off and I decided to sit at Miss Birdie’s feet, my face upturned and carefully composed into an expression of mild begging. A few tasty morsels came my way, so my fawning was not in vain. This disgusted the cat even more, of course, but her sneers didn’t bother me at all.

After Miss Birdie had cleared the table and washed up, we settled in front of the fire once again. Victoria kept an aloof distance and came over to settle on the old lady’s lap only after much enticement. We all dozed, I with my head resting on my benefactor’s slippered feet. I felt warm and content — and more secure than ever before. Perhaps I should stay with this kind old lady and forget my quest, which might just bring me more misery. I could be happy here; the cat would be a mild annoyance but nothing to worry about. I needed some human kindness, I needed to belong to someone. I’d lost a good friend and the world was a big and lonely place for a small mongrel dog. I could always search out my other past at some future time when I learned to live as I was. I could offer Miss Birdie companionship. I could guard her home for her. I could have a permanent meal-ticket.

These thoughts ran through my head as I dozed, and I made the decision that I would stay there for as long as possible — little suspecting what lay in store for me.

Later on, Miss Birdie stirred and began to get ready to go out. ‘Never miss the afternoon service, my dear,’ she told me.

I nodded approvingly, but didn’t stir from my cosy position. I heard the old lady bustling around upstairs for a while, then the clomp of heaving walking shoes as she descended the stairs. She appeared in the doorway, resplendent in white gloves and a dark-blue straw hat. Her suit was pink and her high-necked blouse a bright emerald green. She looked dazzling.

‘Come along, Fluke, time for you to go now,’ she said.

My head shot up. What? Go?

‘What? Go?’ I said.

‘Yes, time for you to go, Fluke. I can’t keep you here, you belong to someone else. They may have looked after you badly, but you do belong to them. I could get into trouble by keeping you here, so I’m afraid you’ve got to leave.’ She shook her head apologetically then, to my dismay, grabbed my collar and dragged my resisting body to the door. For an old lady she was quite strong, and my paws skidded along the wood floor as I tried to hold back. Victoria enjoyed every moment, for I could hear her snickering from her perch on the window-sill.

‘Please let me stay,’ I pleaded. ‘Nobody owns me. I’m all alone.’

It was no use: I found myself outside on the doorstep. Miss Birdie closed the door behind us and marched down the path, calling me to follow. Having no choice, I followed.

At the gate she patted my head and gave me a little push away from her. ‘Off you go now,’ she urged. ‘Home. Good boy, Fluke.’

I wouldn’t budge. After a while she gave up and marched down the hill away from me, looking round twice to make sure I wasn’t following her. I waited patiently until she was out of sight then pushed my way back through the gate and padded down the muddy path to the cottage. Victoria scowled through the window as she saw me coming and shouted at me to go away.

‘Not likely,’ I told her as I squatted on my haunches and prepared to wait for the old lady’s return. ‘I like it here. Why should you have it all to yourself?’

‘Because I was here first,’ Victoria said crossly. ‘You’ve got no right.’

‘Look, there’s plenty for both of us,’ said I, trying to be reasonable. ‘We could be friends.’ I shivered at the thought of being friends with this miserable specimen but was prepared to ingratiate myself for the sake of a nice secure home. ‘I wouldn’t get in your way,’ I said in my best toadying voice. ‘You could have first and biggest share of all the food’ (until I was better acquainted with the old lady, I thought). ‘You can have the best place to sleep’ (until I have wormed my way into Miss Birdie’s affections), ‘and you can be the head of the house, I don’t mind’ (until I get you alone some day and show you who the real boss is). ‘Now, what do you say?’