Ain't Nothing but a Pound Dog

by Jeannie Wycherley

  Clarissa frowned. “I’ll come back first thing in the morning with more food and change your water, and then we’ll have to figure something out, I suppose.”

  “We will,” Toby agreed, although he didn’t have a clue what that might mean.

  He walked with Clarissa to the back door. They went through and she turned around to lock the door before holding the key out to Toby.

  “No, you keep it,” he told her. “I’m trusting you to keep your word and come back.”

  “I promise I will.” She bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Mm mm,” she cooed. “You smell gorgeous!”

  He snuggled down on Old Joe’s bed, happy to be rubbing the old man’s scent back into his fur. The last thing he wanted was to smell like a poodle, for heaven’s sake.

  Had Old Joe really been a witch? That seemed impossible to believe, but now he thought of it, he remembered small instances when things had happened that had confused him. Clothes that unpegged themselves from the rotary line just as a sudden storm hit, the way Old Joe’s records would turn themselves over on the turntable, how the kettle switched itself on at exactly the same moment that Old Joe stirred in the morning.

  Instances that had been special that Toby had never really thought about.

  Toby snuggled down. The curtains were open because there was no-one to pull them, but Toby didn’t mind. The moon was bright, floating high above the houses on the other side of the street.

  Somewhere a dog howled. The sound of a neglected soul, who’d been left out in the garden overnight. One that didn’t have the luxury of Old Joe’s bed.

  The forlorn wail reminded Toby of his friends back at The Sunshine Valley Pet Sanctuary. How were they faring? It seemed unfair that he was out here, footloose and fancy-free, and they were in there. Was Troot coping? Did he have a new neighbour? Was Pippin looking after the puppy?

  Toby turned in the general direction of the kennels, lifting his head to sing his own song of grief and loneliness.

  For a few moments his yowl intertwined in solidarity with that of the dog down the road, a harmony of pain and longing.

  Then he lay down and slept.

  “Should we go for a walk?”

  Clarissa turned up just after seven in the morning, sporting a bright green mackintosh to guard against the early summer drizzle, and a pair of matching leather boots. The combination had the advantage of detracting from her face because, unfortunately, it looked like she hadn’t had a great deal of sleep; her eyes were ringed by dark circles.

  Toby yawned and practised a little yoga; downward dog followed by reverse downward dog, then front-toe-to-back-toe-including-tail-stretch-out, before ending with a limbering shake. He had slept fitfully, disturbed by the dog down the road who clearly hadn’t appreciated being left out all night, and the haunted thoughts of his friends in the kennels.

  “That would be nice. I can attend to my ablutions then,” Toby replied.

  Clarissa nodded. “We’ll go to the park. I can nip into the shop on the way back and pick up some supplies.”

  Toby pricked his ears up at that. He’d fully expected her to turn up with his breakfast, but nothing had been forthcoming so far. He supposed he could forgive her for now. It was still early, after all.

  “Where do you keep your lead?” Clarissa asked.

  Toby trotted out into the hall and nudged the place where his lead hung from a hook beside Old Joe’s coat. “It’s here. I don’t need it though.”

  “You’re not going to run across the road or chase off after cats?” Clarissa asked, taking it from its peg and bending down to clip it to his collar.

  “As if I’d do such a thing.” Toby thought back to the previous day when he’d had to cross the busy roads between the kennels and the park and shuddered at the memory. “Old Joe taught me well.” He pulled Clarissa to the back door. “But perhaps for appearance’s sake? Or maybe you’ll feel more secure if you’re holding on to me. Either way is okay by me.”

  Clarissa smirked, not sure whether he really thought that or whether he wanted to feel attached to her. Either way, she wrapped the lead around her hand and grabbed her purse.

  Toby pulled Clarissa to the back door and they set off, the dog remembering his manners for the most part and matching her step rather than setting the pace himself. The morning had started cool and damp but now that the sun had begun to climb above the horizon, it promised to be another warm and gorgeous day.

  The park wasn’t far. At this time of the day there were few children about, just the usual motley crew of joggers and power walkers and dozens of other dogs with their humans. “You can let me off here,” Toby told Clarissa. “I’ll have a run around and attend to business. I hope you remembered to bring poo bags with you?”

  Clarissa stared after him in horror as he scurried away as fast as his little legs would carry him, heading for a clump of tall grass. “Poo bags?” she muttered. “Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

  “Morning,” a woman chirruped as she walked towards Clarissa, a lumbering black Labrador at her heels.

  “Oh. Morning.” Clarissa hadn’t realised the other dog walkers she met on her travels would be quite so chatty. She gritted her teeth, praying the woman didn’t notice Toby’s antics.

  “Shaping up to be a fine one.” The woman smiled as she sailed past, her blonde ponytail jigging merrily. She looked like the sort of person who didn’t leave home without a dog-walking kit.

  “Isn’t it?” Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Toby squatting. Oh no. Perhaps the woman would be her saviour. “Erm. I seem to have left my poo bags at home. You wouldn’t—?”

  The woman laughed. “Yes, yes. Par for the course isn’t it? You change your jacket or your handbag et voila, you don’t have anything you need.”

  Clarissa grinned, not willing to admit she didn’t have much experience of dogs and that this was actually her first dog walk. Ever.

  The woman lifted up her jacket and exposed a small belted bag strapped loosely around her midriff. She unzipped it and pulled a number of small plastic bags from the pocket. The Labrador came to sit in front of her, looking up at his owner hopefully.

  “He wants a treat,” the woman explained. “Get out of it, Sammy. You’ve just had one.” The Labrador didn’t move.

  Clarissa studied the woman’s bag. “That’s a useful contraption.”

  “Yes it is. I keep my dog pack in here for all eventualities. Wet wipes, a whistle, my mobile, keys etc. Easier to carry around than a handbag.”

  Clarissa nodded. She was struggling to juggle her purse and Toby’s lead. Now she had to take the plastic bags from the woman too. She could have done with a third hand. “I’ll only need one.” She tried to hand a few of the delicately scented bags back to the woman, who cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

  “I doubt that,” the woman said, and nodded towards where Toby was scuffing the grass up. “I’d keep a few spare just in case.”

  Clarissa grimaced. If she intended to walk Toby in the future, she would need to be a little more prepared. “That’s kind.”

  “Are you local? Will I see you here again?” the woman asked, and Clarissa could see she was curious about Clarissa’s evident lack of dog handling experience.

  “Not exactly, and erm… maybe. I don’t know yet.” Clarissa fumbled for a way to make sense of a situation she didn’t properly understand herself yet. “I’m ah… just looking after him for a few days. His owner was taken… erm… poorly. I said I’d help out, but I’m not very prepared.” Clarissa laughed in embarrassment. “As you can see.”

  “You’ll soon get into your stride.” The woman laughed gleefully at her own joke. Stride.

  Clarissa faked a giggle. “Well, I’d best crack on,” she told the woman. “Thanks so much for these.”

  “No problem!” the other woman trilled. “Have a lovely day. Come along Sammy,” she called her dog and he obediently trotted back to her side so they could continue on their way.

 
Clarissa exhaled. There was nothing else for it. She followed Toby into the long grass to hunt for his ‘business’.

  “Dog owners really are a friendly bunch, aren’t they?” Clarissa marvelled. She’d lost count of the number of people who had spoken to her during their forty-minute jaunt around the park. She’d been stopped every few minutes for a quick chat about the weather, or to discuss Toby’s heritage. Toby had wagged his tail at appropriate moments or wandered off when he’d become bored. Now, as they neared the entrance to the park once more, Clarissa asked him, “Just what sort of dog are you anyway? I feel like I need to be a little more prepared for these questions.”

  “Who knows,” Toby shrugged, secretly pleased that Clarissa was taking a long-term view about their relationship. “Selma—”

  “At the Sanctuary?”

  “Yes, that Selma. She knows about such things and she said I was a Schnauzer, whippet, collie, terrier cross. What humans call a mongrel in other words.”

  Clarissa clipped his lead on and dropped a kiss onto his head. Bar poop scooping, she’d enjoyed their time in the fresh air. “I think I prefer the term Liquorice Allsorts really.”

  “That works for me,” Toby wagged, and nuzzled into her knees.

  “We’d better nip to the shops. I have to get to work at some stage this morning.” Clarissa turned to lead Toby away, and almost ran into a couple entering through the park gates. Their dog had tangled itself around their legs and was yelping and crying and trying to back away.

  Toby, who tried to avoid inter-canine conflict wherever possible, slid away from the kerfuffle to hide in the nearby flowerbed, but something about the dog’s yips seemed familiar. He peered out above the sea of rainbow-coloured pansies and studied first the owners and then the dog. He blinked. Could he be seeing things? A silver-coloured Bedlington Terrier, small, thin, with a slightly matted curly coat.

  “Miss Phoebe?” he barked in surprise.

  The silver dog, completely beside herself, didn’t appear to hear him.

  “Miss Phoebe?” he called again, louder this time. And this time she did hear him.

  She spun about, focused on him and paused her whining. “Ee-ex-ten-eight-two?”

  “Yes, but it’s Toby now,” he told her. “I’m a free dog.”

  Miss Phoebe jumped around in agitation. The female of the couple yanked on her lead, perhaps somehow imagining this would ensure the little dog calmed down. Even Clarissa, for all her inexperience, could see this would not have the desired effect.

  “Can you not shut your dog up?” the male of the couple asked Clarissa.

  “I’m so sorry,” Clarissa apologised, a little embarrassed both by Toby’s chatter and the man’s hostility.

  “Toby?” Miss Phoebe sounded panicked. “You have to help me. These people are not my owners.”

  “What do you mean they’re not your owners?” Toby stepped out of the flowerbed and trotted towards Miss Phoebe.

  “Keep your rotten dog back!” The man aimed a kick at Toby.

  Clarissa rushed in front of him. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Phoebe danced around Toby. “They turned up at the kennels and claimed they were my owners, but they really aren’t! They’re scaring me. I don’t like them. I want my real Mummy!”

  “Calm down, Miss Phoebe,” Toby yapped.

  Clarissa tried to grab a hold of Toby’s collar as the man took another pot-shot at him. “Hey? Furball? stop barking at their dog,” she pleaded.

  “You don’t understand!” He twisted in her grip. “I know this lady. She’s a friend of mine from the kennels. These people have her under false pretences.”

  Clarissa glanced from Toby to the terrier and back at the couple, before focusing back on Toby once more. “Are you sure?”

  “I believe in what she’s telling me,” Toby said. “We have to get her away from them.”

  “We can’t just dognap her.”

  “What are you saying?” the woman asked and Clarissa hurriedly straightened up, smiling as though nobody had a care in the world.

  “Sorry! Nothing! I do apologise about my dog. He’s nervous around strangers, and we haven’t seen you about the park before.”

  Of course we haven’t. We haven’t been here together before, Toby thought, admiring the smoothness of Clarissa’s lies. He looked up at the other woman and growled. He pierced her with his eyes. Not only have we not been here before, but I’ve been in kennels for nearly six months, with this dog who clearly isn’t yours.

  Clarissa seemed to have a plan.

  “Are you local? Or new to the area?” she asked, her voice light and innocent. “Have you heard about the dog club we have?”

  The woman regarded Clarissa in suspicion. “Are you being funny?”

  Oops, Toby thought. That backfired a little. They would probably take exception to the assertion that Miss Phoebe needed extra training classes.

  “No, no, sorry.” Clarissa apologised once more. “Not at all. It’s just if you have a nervy dog, it can be quite useful to socialise. That’s what I did with my little friend, erm, Freddie here. He used to be much the same as your terrier. Scared and not particularly social, you know?”

  She was babbling now and getting nowhere.

  “Put a sock in it,” Toby suggested.

  “Shush, Fido. Remember what we learned in class?” Clarissa asked in a high-pitched voice, giving him a hard stare.

  “I thought you said his name was Freddie?” the man growled.

  Clarissa realised her mistake. She laughed. “Fido. Freddie. Foo Foo. I call him all manner of things. It’s twee, I know.” She made a curly flourish beside her forehead with her finger and rolled her eyes. “I’m barking that way.”

  The woman holding Miss Phoebe’s lead offered half a smile, unsure quite how to react to Clarissa. The man didn’t buy her act for a moment though, Toby could see that.

  “Come on Lou,” he said. The woman began to pull Miss Phoebe away.

  “Help me?” The Bedlington Terrier pleaded with Toby.

  “You don’t want details of the dog club?” Clarissa shouted after them.

  “We will,” Toby called to Miss Phoebe. “Stay strong.”

  “As soon as you can,” Miss Phoebe begged, and with that, the woman had dragged her away.

  Clarissa watched her go. “Poor little thing.”

  “We have to help her,” Toby said, half intent on running after them.

  Clarissa knelt beside the dog and stroked his head. “Are you absolutely one hundred per cent sure those are not her proper owners?”

  “Her humans? No.” Toby was adamant. “Miss Phoebe and I have not exactly seen eye-to-eye all the time, but I believe she is telling me the truth.”

  “In that case,” Clarissa’s face set with determination, “we will find a way to help her.”

  “What goes in, must come out,” Clarissa told Toby as he lay by her feet. She had perched on the narrow aluminium bench enmeshed into the bus shelter. Peculiarly uncomfortable, you needed to have a very small bottom to sit securely. For his part, Toby didn’t mind lying on the pavement, although he objected to the cigarette ends and the sweet wrappers that littered the area.

  He peered up at Clarissa doubtfully, blinking at the sun shining like a halo behind her head, but it turned out she’d been right.

  The bus stop was a short distance away from the park’s main gates. The shelter provided excellent cover from which to watch out for the couple and Miss Phoebe when they appeared twenty minutes later. Clarissa pointed them out to Toby, and together they observed as the trio crossed at the zebra crossing and strolled along in front of the short parade of shops that faced out towards the park.

  “Come on.” Clarissa unclipped Toby’s lead. “Stay close to me… without obviously being with me. We don’t want them to notice a woman and her dog walking after them. This is the closest we can get to being incognito.”

  “Without some sort of disguise it’s a pretty rubbish way t
o be incognito,” Toby muttered, but he did as he was bid, and together they jaywalked across the road and followed Miss Phoebe and her humans from what they considered to be a safe distance. The couple seemed to be having words, but Clarissa made no attempt to get close enough to find out what they were arguing about. She remained well back, and if they ever paused, she hurriedly dipped into the entrance of a shop, or hid behind a bush, tree or a lamppost.

  Toby, meanwhile, simply dodged between people’s feet and sniffed at the bushes and street furniture. However, while he enjoyed the sensation of freedom, having not been outside the confines of the Sunshine Valley Pet Sanctuary for so long, his concern was only for Miss Phoebe.

  When the couple paused at the corner of a T-junction and the man turned to look back the way they had come, both Clarissa and Toby froze. To Toby’s mind, one dog was very much like another, and you probably wouldn’t notice if you were being followed along a relatively busy street by one, but Clarissa in her bright green raincoat was a whole other story.

  Perhaps the man had spotted Clarissa’s tell-tale vibrant garment because his glance lingered a little longer than Toby found necessary. Finally though, he turned to face forwards and carried on walking down the road.

  Toby slipped into the doorway of a florist’s where Clarissa had sought refuge. “I think it would be better if you hang well back from now on,” he told her.

  “Do you think he noticed us?” Clarissa asked in dismay.

  “Perhaps.” Toby stuck his head back out into the street. “Why don’t I follow them alone? It’s much less likely that they’ll spot me. I’ll meet you back at home. My home.”

  Old Joe’s home.

  “I can’t let you go alone!” Clarissa shook her head, her tone firm. “What if the dog warden catches you?”

  If it had been possible for a dog to do so, Toby would have blanched at the thought. “If that happens, you’re going to have to come and get me very fast. I’m on borrowed time. There’s no saying what they’ll do.”

  “You see? I can’t let you go alone.” Clarissa folded her arms across her chest and scowled down at him. The florist, busy arranging roses in a bucket, looked their way with a frown.