The Butcher's Husband and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  “I couldn't help but hear you using a hairdryer last night at 10:11pm,” I read out loud. “Please remember in future that such devices are not supposed to be used in this building after 10pm, due to the noise they create. I know it's easy to forget, so I thought I'd give you a gentle reminder. Richard Seymour, flat 5a.”

  Sighing, I screw the note up and toss it into the bin, before heading through to the front room and peering around the edge of the door.

  Your bed is still on the floor, Jasper, but there's no sign of the puppy. I glance around, wondering where he might be hiding, and then I step fully into the room.

  “Hello?” I say cautiously. “Hey, little guy. It's Saturday and I'm going to take you to see the vet. I think you should get a quick check-up, just to make sure that you're okay. Don't worry, it won't hurt.”

  I wait, but the room is completely still and quiet. It's so still and quiet, in fact, that after a moment I start to worry that somehow the puppy found a way to escape. I glance around, but then I hear a faint snoring sound coming from over my shoulder, and I turn to see that the puppy is fast asleep on my coat. I guess, in all the rush last night, I let my coat fall onto the floor. Apparently the puppy decided that a coat is more comfortable than a proper dog bed.

  “Hey,” I say again, as I step over and kneel down to take a closer look, “it's just me.”

  He opens his eyes and stares up at me, and he still looks very nervous.

  “We have to go and see the vet,” I explain. “Trust me, it's for your own good.”

  ***

  “He's about six, maybe seven weeks old,” the vet says as he finishes examining the puppy, “which is definitely too young for him to have been separated from his mother. Other than that, he seems healthy. I can't tell you much more, since there's no way of identifying him.”

  “There were three others in the bag with him,” I reply.

  “Thank you for bringing those in,” he says. “We'll make sure that they're disposed of properly.”

  “I can't believe that guy just threw them all into the river like that,” I continue. “I mean, I've heard of people doing that, but I've never witnessed it before. He was just throwing them away, as if they were garbage.”

  “It happens more often than you might like to think,” he replies. “You did the right thing by bringing the little chap in, but right now there's nothing else I can do for him. We'll wait a little while for the main vaccinations. For the moment, I'd suggest that you simply keep an eye on him at home and let me know how he's doing in about a week's time.”

  “At home?” I reply, shocked by the suggestion. “I think there's been a misunderstanding, I wasn't planning to keep him. I just brought him here because I thought...”

  My voice trails off as I suddenly realized that the vet doesn't seem inclined to take the puppy on himself.

  “I mean,” I continue, “it seems a little soon. I work, and I don't think I have the time that I'd need in order to look after a puppy. Jasper was different, Jasper was older by the time I started this job, and he could be home alone all day. But a puppy's a totally different proposition and I really don't think that I'm at a time in my life to look after him.”

  “You don't, huh?”

  “I'm sorry,” I add. “I just can't.”

  “Let me tell you what'll happen to him,” he replies. “He'll be sent to a kennel, where there's a small chance that he'll be adopted. If he isn't taken by a family in the first six months, he most likely won't be at all. And I don't think I need to tell you that most kennels are struggling to keep going. To be blunt, Paula, this little man's future would look very bleak indeed if he entered the kennel system.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that I still can't take a little puppy in, but then I look down at the table and see the puppy staring back at me.

  He doesn't look quite so terrified, not anymore.

  “It's going to be very difficult,” I explain, even though I already know that deep down I've accepted what I have to do. “I got Jasper when he was almost a year old, so I've never actually looked after a proper puppy before. I don't really know what I have to do, or how to do it, or anything like that.”

  “You'll be fine.”

  “I work a lot.”

  “I'm sure he'll enjoy the peace and quiet.”

  “He's so small.”

  “He'll get bigger.”

  “He's probably scarred by his experiences.”

  “Then he needs someone like you, to help him get through it all.” He pauses. “You can throw up all the roadblocks you like, Paula. Are you sure you're not secretly feeling guilty? I know you loved Jasper very much. Forgive me for pulling on your heartstrings like this, but I think he'd want you to be happy. And are you really happy, living all alone without a dog?”

  “I...”

  I pause for a moment, and then suddenly the puppy comes across the table and tries to jump into my arms. I help him up, and he starts snuggling against my elbow. I guess he's just scared of the vet, but I have to admit that he seems quite comfortable now.

  “What are you going to call him?” the vet asks.

  I hesitate for a moment, and then – out of nowhere – the perfect name pops into my head.

  “Gregory,” I say with a faint smile. “His name is Gregory.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Okay, Gregory,” I say as I set him down on the floor next to the dog bed in my flat, “just wait here for a moment, okay? I need to look for a couple of things. And try not to wee.”

  I start going through to the kitchen, before changing direction and heading over to my desk. I pull the drawer open and start looking for the documents I'll need in order to get Gregory insured, but to be honest my paperwork filing system isn't particularly neat.

  Finally, sighing, I take the entire drawer out and turn to carry it over to the table.

  “Damn it!” I gasp as my foot catches on the strap of my bag, and I almost trip. Stumbling slightly, I drop the drawer, and all the papers go flying across the floor.

  Gregory panics and hops straight into the bed for safety.

  “It's okay,” I tell him, “I'm just a little clumsy. You'll have to get used to that. Jasper did.”

  As soon as I've said your name, I feel an instant rush of guilt. You don't think that I'm replacing you, Jasper, do you? This whole puppy thing has rather been thrust upon me. I mean, I was planning to get another dog eventually, but not so soon. I just hope that wherever you are now, you realize that Gregory can never, ever take your place. Sure, he's cute, but a dog has to be more than cute. Gregory is a lovely puppy, but...

  He's not you, Jasper.

  And he never will be.

  “I need to grab my phone,” I tell Gregory, “and I'll be right back. It's just charging in the kitchen.”

  I turn and head through, and then once I've got my phone I stop for a moment and take a deep breath. The past twelve hours have been completely insane, and I've gone from living alone to having an actual puppy in the flat. My mind is racing, and I'm not even sure how I'm going to be able to afford all the extra costs that come with a puppy, but I guess I'll just have to cut back in other areas and then – somehow – I'll muddle through. And it's not as if I have any other options. When I think back to the sight of poor little Gregory in the bag last night, along with his dead siblings, I feel as if my heart is going to break.

  Once I've managed to regather my composure a little, I make my way back to the front room.

  “Okay,” I say, trying to sound cheery and friendly, “we're going to need to figure out the toilet situation. You might have noticed that I don't have a garden and that I do have carpets, so house-training is going to be very important.”

  I look around for Gregory. For a moment, I don't see him anywhere, but finally I spot him sitting over on the far side of the room, staring down at some of the pieces of paper that spilled out from the drawer.

  “Right,” I say, heading over to him, “sorry, I should have picked
these up already.”

  I crouch down to grab the pages, but then I realize that they're actually not documents at all. They're the strange pages that I found months ago under your bed, Jasper. I'd meant to throw them away, but somehow they got mixed in with all my other stuff in the drawer and I guess I forgot about them. In fact, it's kind of strange to see them again, and for a moment I stare at all the strange, scratchy symbols that I once tried to decipher. I am so glad that I managed to stop myself going down that particular rabbit-hole.

  “Let me get these out of your way,” I say to Gregory, but then I hesitate as I see that he's staring at the symbols very intently.

  I wait, but this particular page seems to have captured his attention completely. And as I watch, he moves his head slightly, and I realize that he almost seems to be reading the symbols.

  “Are you okay there?” I ask cautiously, worried that maybe he's getting sick. “Hey, Gregory, do you want to go out for a wee?”

  Again I wait, but he actually seems to be concentrating. And then, a moment later, he reaches out with his right paw and he gently pushes the top page aside, seemingly so that he can start reading the page underneath.

  “You're starting to freak me out a little,” I tell him, forcing a smile in the hope that he'll stop being weird. “This stuff is nothing, just ignore it.”

  With that, I gather up all the weird pages and fold them over, and then I lean past Gregory and set the pieces of paper in the bin next to my desk. That's what I should have done three months ago. Turning back to Gregory, however, I'm surprised to find that he's now staring at me with a strangely intense expression. Strangely intense for a puppy, at least.

  “What?” I ask. “You're being really weird now. You haven't got some kind of head injury, have you?”

  I reach out and touch the side of his head, but he doesn't react at all. He simply stares at me, almost as if he's trying to read my mind.

  “Okay,” I say finally, getting to my feet, “we're going to go out for a wee, and maybe a poo. You'll have to use Jasper's lead and collar until I have a chance to get you your own, but that'll be fine. He wouldn't mind.”

  Would you?

  “It'll all be okay,” I continue as I grab the lead and examine it. I'll need to get a pair of scissors and add another hole so that it fits Gregory, but that won't be too difficult. “It'll just take some time for you to adjust, that's all. That's totally natural. I don't know what your life was like before we met, but I'm guessing that it wasn't too great. I'm going to try to help you get over that now. It'll take time, but I think we'll get there in the end.”

  I turn to him, but he's still staring at me. I swear, ever since I came back into the room, he's seemed so much more intense.

  “You'll see,” I tell him, as I force another smile, hoping again to put him at ease. “Everything's going to be absolutely fine.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Goodnight, Gregory,” I say as I lean down to his – your – bed and give him a kiss on the top of his head. “I know you probably want to be in the bed with me, but it's probably best for you to be in here. Let's give it a try, yeah?”

  I wait, half expecting that he'll lick my nose or do some other doggy thing, but he simply watches me. I've spent the whole day with him, taking him for several short little toilet break into the yard and then playing with him inside, but in truth he's seemed a little 'off' since we came back from the vet's office. I've never known a dog that stares so much.

  You were always so carefree, Jasper.

  Until the end, at least.

  “I'm going to bed now,” I continue, as I get to my feet. “I won't be far away, though, and I'll see you in the morning. Okay?”

  I smile, and then I head over to the door. Glancing back, I see that Gregory is still staring at me, but I tell myself that he's just struggling to get used to his new situation. I'm sure he'll be absolutely fine in the morning. He's probably just not used to being treated properly. After all, a little over twenty-four hours ago he was still with that guy who tossed him and his siblings into the river. Maybe he has some kind of dog PTSD? Whatever, I just have to be patient, so I simply pull the door gently shut and then I turn to head through to my bedroom.

  After just a single step, however, I realize I can hear a shuffling noise nearby.

  Turning, I look toward my front door, and I realize that somebody seems to be walking very slowly out there. I check my watch and see that it's almost 10pm, which isn't that late, but it sounds as if someone is very slowly coming toward my door. I wait, convinced that I must be mistaken, and then I hear a faint, low creaking sound.

  Suddenly a neatly folded sheet of paper slides under the door.

  I step over and pick the piece of paper up, but I already recognize it as one of Mr. Seymour's missives. As the shuffling sound heads away from my door, I open the paper and see a note written in his neat, distinctive handwriting.

  “I notice that you have a new pet dog,” I whisper, reading out loud. “Please make sure that there is no barking late at night. Young dogs can be particularly disruptive. Also, please shut the main door quietly whenever you go outside. Today there were several loud bumps, and I am sure that everyone in the building will have found them disruptive.”

  Loud bumps? I swear, Mr. Seymour must live on a hair trigger, constantly poised to make complaints about everyone else in the building. I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who receives these letters. He complains about pretty much everything that happens. Sighing, I set the note aside and turn to go through to my room, but then I hesitate as I realize that – for once – I've actually seen the note coming under the door.

  Several times I've almost gone up to speak to Mr. Seymour personally, but in truth I've never actually seen the man. This time, even though I'm exhausted, I open my front door and step out, just in time to see him making his way slowly up the stairs. The lights are off in the stairwell, but I can see the old man's silhouette against the moonlit window above.

  “Hi!” I call out. “Um, Mr. Seymour? Hello, I think you just put a note through my door.”

  He stops and slowly turns to me, although in the darkness I can't make out any of his features.

  “I'm sorry if I was noisy earlier,” I continue, “but -”

  Before I can finish, I start coughing. I'm used to the communal areas in this building being dusty, but tonight it seems as if there's even dust drifting through the air. There's a nasty fusty smell, too, and after a moment I have to start waving some of the dust away. Maybe Justin was right, maybe someone should check that this stuff isn't dangerous. Right now, it's worse than ever.

  “I'll try to be quieter,” I splutter finally, “and I'll try to make sure my new puppy doesn't bark.”

  I wait, but he doesn't respond. In fact, it's kind of creepy to realize that he seems to be simply staring at me, and I squint in an attempt to get a view of his face. Finally, I reach out to switch on the hall light.

  “No,” he says suddenly, his voice sounding harsh and muffled, “please don't do that.”

  I hesitate, with my finger resting on the switch, and then I pull back. The last thing I need is to antagonize this guy any further.

  “We must save electricity where we can,” he continues. “I merely wanted to draw your attention to your responsibilities as a resident of this building. I'm sure you'll understand that my focus is on making sure that we all live happily here.”

  “Absolutely,” I reply. “I really don't think I'm very disruptive, though.”

  “Oh, of course not,” he says. “Even when you had your previous animal, you mostly managed to keep him quiet. Dogs can be very loud, but yours was tolerable. I just hope that the same will be true of the new one.”

  “I'll do my best,” I tell him, although I must admit that I'm irritated that he described you as tolerable, Jasper. You were the best dog in the world.

  I wait, but after a moment Mr. Seymour turns and shuffles out of view, and I'm left listening to
the sound of him going up to the next floor.

  “Okay, then,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  Figuring that there's really no point following Mr. Seymour and trying to engage him in a conversation, I step back into my flat and shut the door, and then I put the chain in place.

  Still coughing a little thanks to all the dust in the hallway, I finally go through to my bedroom.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Good morning, little guy,” I say as I use my bum to gently push the door open, while carrying a bowl of food and a saucer of fresh water, “I hope you slept well. I didn't hear a peep out of you all -”

  Stopping suddenly, I see that Gregory is sitting in the middle of the room, staring up at me. Right in front of him, there's a piece of paper and a pen.

  “Okay,” I say cautiously, furrowing my brow a little. This is definitely not what I was expecting. “Are you doing okay in here?”

  Sniffing the air, I realize that I can smell something that's slightly 'off'. I set the bowl and saucer down, and then I spot a faint dark patch on the carpet. A little further off, near the far corner, there's a neat, curled poo.

  “Don't worry,” I say as I grab some tissue paper and pick the poo up, “I was expecting a little accident during your first night. I'm not angry, I promise.”

  I take the poo to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet, then I wash my hands before going back through to the front room, where Gregory is still sitting next to the paper and pen.

  “I'll clean that puddle up in a moment,” I tell him. “For now, how about I get dressed and then we can go out into the yard? It's Sunday and that means I'm home all day. Would you like a short walk to get the day started?”

  I wait for him to respond, but he's still staring at me, and after a moment I notice that there are some marks on the piece of paper next to him. I step closer and peer down, and I'm surprised to see more of the strange scribbles that I first found on the pages in your bed, Jasper.