Lucy

by Chris Coppel

“I’m sorry to be interrupting your fine toast there Mr. Cotter, but are you aware that we still haven’t got the foggiest notion as to what you’re prattling on about?” she said, with a slight slur to her voice.

  Lucy had finished inspecting her glass and finally decided to risk taking a small taste. She lowered her muzzle into it and was immediately rewarded by the strangest prickling sensation that climbed her tongue and then assaulted her nose. Before she could stop herself, she backed up a step and let out a volley of surprised barks.

  Oh, the embarrassment! She realised what she’d done almost as soon as she started and immediately ceased, but it was too late. What a faux pas! And in front of her Man and Cook! She looked up at them with sad, guilty eyes, and to her amazement, saw that they were not at all shocked by her disgraceful display, indeed, they both began laughing joyously at her outburst.

  Lucy decided that the least she could do was to give the liquid offering another go. She again approached the glass, this time prepared for the gaseous assault. She closed her eyes and lapped up almost half of the golden liquid. She would have had more but couldn’t get her tongue any farther into the glass. That seemed to please her Man and Cook, who proceeded to laugh even harder.

  Her Man tried to bring himself under control and looked at them both.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said between laughs. “Of course, you don’t know. Today I received an email from Hollywood.”

  “Hollywood in America?” Cook asked in disbelief.

  “None other,” he responded with exuberant pride. “and they have advised me that they plan to make a film from one of my books!”

  Cook’s jaw dropped open, as she swayed unsteadily. “A film, for the cinema,” she stammered. “Of one of your books?”

  “Does that surprise you?” he said, feigning hurt.

  “No,” she replied as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Not at all. It’s just that, that’s the best news I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  “There’s more. I am being paid to go to Hollywood to write the movie myself.”

  “No?” She screamed with delight. “Hollywood!”

  Lucy looked on with fascination. Not at their antics, but at the fact there were now four of them dancing on the front lawn. She felt very warm and incredibly happy. She had no idea what was being said but clearly anything that made them this joyful had to prove to be an exceptionally good thing for her as well. Lucy hiccupped gently, then felt her eyelids closing on their own. Oh well. A nap wouldn’t be that bad anyway. Lucy lowered her head to her front paws and was asleep within seconds.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Six months!” Cook exclaimed. “That’s a fair bit of time to be away.”

  “It is, isn’t it,” Lucy’s Man replied, while pensively looking out the sitting room window.

  “I had no idea they’d need me for that long. I thought two to three weeks, maybe a month, but no. ‘We’ll need you here spittin’ out pages right up to and throughout production,’ he said with excellent mimicry of an American accent. “You’ll simply manage the cottage as you do now,” he continued. “Just prepare less food.”

  Cook tried to smile at his attempt at levity but found it difficult. “I’m not going to pretend that I like the thought of you being out there among those savages for that length of time,” Cook said.

  “If you’re referring to all those gangs and criminals we hear about,” he smiled as he spoke. “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure they’re kept a suitable distance from the film studios.”

  “Gangs and criminals, indeed! I’m talking about the savages that work in the studios!” she said with conviction. “I read the magazines. I know what goes on out there.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at Cook’s concern. “I’ll try and keep to myself whenever possible.”

  Cook nodded her acceptance just as Lucy entered the room. She was still a little dizzy after the earlier goings on outside, but at least her vision had cleared. Though now, she had the strangest pounding sensation in her head and a very unpleasant taste in her mouth. Even after consuming her entire bowl of water, the taste just wouldn’t go away.

  The moment she entered the room, she felt the tension. Cook and her Man were sitting facing each other in the two huge chairs by the bay window. Lucy didn’t think she’d ever seen Cook seated anywhere but in the kitchen before that moment. They both watched Lucy as she approached.

  “What about Lucy? She’ll pine something terrible for you while you’re gone,” Cook said with a slight waver to her voice. “Could you not take her with you?”

  He looked over at Lucy with great affection, then turned back to Cook. “I can’t. I mean I could, but what with the eleven hour flights back and forth, my having to spend most my time at the studio, and there’s the fact that she wouldn’t have any open space to play in. I just don’t think it would be fair on her. She’d spend her time either in a cage, a hotel room or a kennel.”

  “Oh my!” Cook exclaimed while wringing her hands forcefully. “Well, we can’t have that. She’ll simply stay here and have to put up with me for a while.”

  Lucy stood between the two and allowed them both to stroke her.

  Her Man smiled across at Cook. “I somehow don’t think that would be such a hardship for her. You’ll probably end up spoiling her rotten and I’ll come home to the only Golden Retriever in England that’s too fat to even stand.”

  “You might at that,” she chuckled. “Aye, you might at that.”

  Lucy could sense that she didn’t have either human’s full attention, so she wandered into the kitchen and checked for titbits. There were none, so she made her way down to the pond. A cloud passed in front of the sun, momentarily turning the vivid colours of the landscape into muted pastel shades. Lucy looked up and watched as the wispy tendrils of the cloud seemed to reach out and pull themselves bodily across the sky. Once it passed clear of the sun, Lucy had to look away as the fierce brightness of the golden orb was again unleashed upon the countryside.

  Once at the pond, Lucy lowered herself to the ground and dipped her tongue into the still waters. It was an entirely different taste from the water in her bowl, or the water she sometimes drank from the raised porcelain chairs in those odd, cramped, rooms inside the cottage. The taste was somehow, not cleaner exactly, it was more…full-bodied. It had an earthy, almost lived-in taste that Lucy found not entirely unpleasant, and on an occasion such as today, when her thirst was rampant, the dark waters couldn’t have tasted better.

  As she drank, she watched the ripples spread out from her tongue and traverse the entire length of the pond, rocking the small fleet of lily pads as the waves passed through them.

  She stopped drinking, and as the water regained its previous mirror like quality, Lucy spent a moment looking down at her own image.

  It didn’t seem that long ago, when her Man used to have to fish her out of the pond on more than one occasion, trying to chase what had turned out to be her own reflection. It wasn’t that she was stupid, just that the concept of reflections was slightly out of her grasp. Her Man had finally, with a wonderful display of patience and caring, lifted Lucy right up into his arms, carried her to the cottage and took her up into his sleeping room. He had opened his closet door and shown Lucy his full length dressing mirror. After exhaustive examination, she came to terms with its reflective properties. Once convinced that Lucy had a good grasp of reflections, her Man again hoisted her into his arms, and transported her back to the water’s edge and her reflected image therein. He repeated this arduous undertaking three more times. To be honest, Lucy had grasped the concept after the second trip, but was so enjoying being carried in and out of the house that she didn’t let on.

  Lucy adored her Man. She couldn’t have picked a better one had she tried. He was still a Man, and therefore, a human, but aside from his breed’s usual shortcomings, he seemed to have a far greater insight int
o the thinking of most other creatures. He had never raised a hand to Lucy, even when she was young and seemingly bent on single-handedly laying waste to the entire cottage and surrounding property. When she had misguidedly chewed through his favourite footwear, or shredded sheet after sheet of scribbled-on bits of paper in his private room, he hadn’t beaten her. He had, in fact, hardly even raised his voice. Instead, he had sat her down and held in front of her the remains of her bad deeds and had slowly explained why what she had done was wrong. Even without being able to understand his words, she had clearly understood the overall meaning. When he wasn’t buried in his work, her Man would take her for long, sometimes magical walks into the small village, and if stopped for conversation by passing acquaintances, would never forget to introduce Lucy. He was indeed an exceptionally good man to be paired with.

  Even as she thought of her Man, his image suddenly appeared over hers in the pond’s reflection. He was smiling down at her.

  “Where’s shoe?” he asked. “Come on, find shoe!”

  Lucy scrambled to her feet. It was time for an unscheduled game of shoe! Shoe was what remained of one chewing indiscretion that had transpired a long time ago. Her Man had given her the talking to while holding out the severely gnawed remains of one half a pair of penny loafers. The barely recognisable shoe had then, for some reason, grown into and remained one of Lucy’s favourite playthings.

  Lucy charged across the lawn to the back of the cottage where, in a small recess in one wall, she stored her favourite possessions. A deflated soccer ball, a fuzz-less and permanently spittle-soaked tennis ball, the wooden handle to some gardening implement now long vanished, and of course, Shoe.

  She grabbed the slightly damp and almost unrecognisable piece of leather, and dashed back to her Man. He dropped to his knees, patted her affectionately on the head, and reached for shoe. That was when the fun really began. You couldn’t simply let him have it. Oh no! Part of the fun was to make him work for it. Lucy took a good strong hold of Shoe, and even as her Man rose to his feet and pulled with all his weight, she held on tightly. He tried to turn it from her mouth, but she clenched her teeth even harder. He tried to lift it, but Lucy simply rose with it. He walked it backwards, but accomplishing little except dragging Lucy along the lawn. There was no question that he had some good moves when it came to Shoe, but then again, so did she, and at just the right moment she suddenly let go, causing her Man to topple over backwards. Once on the ground, he then made his biggest blunder and loosened his grip on the now, very moist strip of leather. Lucy lunged and grabbed Shoe in her mouth before her Man knew what was happening. Lucy kept right on running, all the while hearing him laughing heartily after her. She completed one victory lap around the pond as was the custom, then eased her pace to a gentle trot and approached her Man. She gently deposited Shoe next to him, then waited for his next move. She made sure that she kept her gaze firmly rooted on it, with only the briefest glances at her adversary. Fully expecting him to make a sudden move on Shoe, she was caught entirely off-guard when he instead lunged at her! Before she knew it, he had flipped her over on her back, and was tickling her stomach with unbridled abandon. Then as if that weren’t enough, just when she was almost delirious with love and adoration for him, her Man grabbed the shoe and was instantly on his feet.

  Brilliant manoeuvre!

  Lucy got up and charged after him as the game continued.

  Lucy had no idea that this would be the last game of Shoe that she would have with her Man for some time.

  They played on until Cook called him inside to speak into another of the bizarre objects, he surrounded himself with. This one was an odd black thing that her Man would hold against his ear after it made a sound like the other thing that woke him up every morning. Sometimes he would speak into it, other times he would just stare at it and tap his finger against it for hours. Lucy could, at times, hear the distorted sound of human voices coming from it, but on other occasions, like when she tipped it over one day to examine it more closely, it lit up and a robotic voice and began speaking to her. Her Man seemed content to use whatever it was on a regular basis, so it must have had some purpose.

  After a good dinner, Lucy settled herself by the unlit fireplace (it was summer after all) and gazed up at her Man. She watched as he toiled away in front of a lit screen. On it, were line after line of symbols that looked similar to what was on the paper bundles her Man looked at every morning. Sometimes, he looked over at one of the paper bits he’d scribbled on and appeared to compare it to what was on the screen. Humans seemed to find the strangest ways of passing time.

  Lucy dozed and dreamed of Shoe and reflections in the pond. At one point, she opened her eyes and saw that her Man was looking down at her with an expression of great love and concern. Lucy moved over to him and placed her head on his lap while still looking into his eyes.

  “What’s up girl?” he whispered. “Can’t you sleep either?”

  She gave him the double tail-floor tap, so he would know that she was fully receptive to whatever he wished to say or do.

  “I’m going away for a while,” he began explaining in a low and gentle tone. “I’m going to a place called America. Ever heard of it?”

  Lucy provided another pair of tail taps.

  “It’s a huge place,” he continued. “Larger than anything you could imagine. It’s filled with every race of people you could think of - all living together. I’m going to be gone quite a long time. Do you understand?”

  Again, double tail tap.

  “I’ll be leaving you in charge here, so you will have to promise me that you’ll take care of everything, especially Cook. She won’t be able to walk as far with you as I can, so have patience with her.”

  He took hold of her head in his large hands, and in a voice filled with emotion said, “I’ve never been away from you for more than a few days since you’ve been here. I will miss you more than you will ever know. Please try and realise that when I’m gone, it’s not forever, though to you it may just seem like it is. I can’t make you understand, I know, but please don’t hurt too badly for me. I will be back.”

  That was all he said. They slowly readjusted their positions so that he could resume his work on the screen and the paper bits. Lucy fell into a deep, contented sleep at his feet as he continued to toil long into the night.

  When she woke the next morning, her Man was gone.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lucy was quite surprised to find that her Man was out of the house when she awoke. It had happened before on a couple of occasions, and both times his absence had proved highly traumatic. She hoped that it wasn’t going to be the case this time. She nosed her way to the dark storage area under the stairs and found, much to her chagrin, that the square thing he filled with belongings when he went away, was indeed, gone.

  Even when he was totally preoccupied with his paper bits and didn’t play Shoe or even take Lucy for a walk, life was somehow more complete, just knowing he was huddled over his desk up in his private room.

  Of course, as with most bad situations, there is always some good to be found, and in the case of her Man going away, it was that Cook seemed to feel that the situation warranted severe over-indulging of Lucy at every turn. Lucy considered pointing out that such behaviour really wasn’t necessary, but finally decided not to spoil Cook’s fun. So, with a brave face, and rapidly enlarging belly, Lucy would sombrely accept tidbit after titbit from her. Alright, it didn’t replace her Man, but it helped a little.

  The first few days passed with relative ease. Lucy spent the time catching up on naps and lower garden exploration. On the second day, she even found time to mark out some unclaimed areas at the farthest reaches of the property. When she woke on the third day, she didn’t feel quite right. She couldn’t put her paw on it, but she felt an unease somewhere deep within her. By the afternoon of that day, the feeling had grown to one of deep concern. Her Man had
never been gone this long. Something bad had obviously happened. Lucy began pacing the cottage, checking her Man’s favourite spots repeatedly, and with growing frequency.

  By early evening, Lucy was a wreck. She didn’t know what to do. She kept rushing to Cook but she only offered her something to eat. Lucy was beyond titbits by that point. Finally, in complete despair, she climbed into her Man’s chair, and though normally frowned upon, was left unhindered as she fitfully slept on and off. For the next three days she rarely left his chair, and only then because she needed water or a visit to the garden to do her private business.

  Cook was at a loss as to what to do. Lucy wouldn’t eat, she rarely went outside, and she wouldn’t even leave the chair. On the eighth day after his departure, Cook’s prayers were answered when another strange object that sat on its own little table in the hallway, began to make a loud ringy noise. Cook lifted part of it and placed it cautiously against her ear then suddenly bubbled over with excitement.

  “Oh, Mr. Cotter! You have no idea how glad I am to hear from you. Lucy’s pining away somethin’ awful fer ya,” she said in a rapid torrent. “She won’t eat, she misses you so!”

  Her Man had only said two or three words in reply when Lucy, hearing his voice coming from downstairs, came charging down the stairs and into the room. She began barking frantically at Cook and the black thing. Manners be damned. She’d heard her Man and was going to bark until she dropped.

  Such was the din caused by her orating, that Cook could hardly hear a word her Man was saying. She finally turned to Lucy, and with a rigidly pointed finger gestured to a spot on the floor inches from her.

  “Lucy!” she commanded. “You come here this minute and sit!”

  Lucy knew when an order needed to be obeyed and did as she was told. Cook then, to her complete amazement, held the black thing to Lucy’s ear. Lucy was about to protest when she heard his voice. Slightly distant, and mildly distorted, but there he was (or wasn’t). It was very confusing. He obviously couldn’t be in the black thing, but then, where was he? Lucy sniffed the air and confirmed that he certainly was not nearby.