Two Dogs Monty: Easy to read, hilarious story of a lad falling in love, two crazy dogs, and a bizarre gang of criminals. (Two Dogs Monty Series Book 1)

by Bill Day

  Mandy and the Yak

  Mandy, Jessica, and Sarah are chatting on the bow. Muscles is asleep. Lucky is chilling on the bridge. Fingers and I drop a line and try to catch a few fish. I think the puffer fish has gone down to warn the others because we don’t get a bite.

  Mandy makes the decision to head back. “We’d better head off before Muscles wakes up.”

  Fingers goes to the bow and retrieves the anchor. Lucky starts the engine and Penelope pulls away slowly. I glance back. Sarah and Jessica stand at the stern while the tender drifts away, untethered. How could they not see it?

  “The tender is loose.” I call. Nobody says anything. I look again. Mandy sits low in the tender and pumps fuel into the motor. It’s not far so I dive in to help. I close on the tender in just a few strokes and cling to the gunnel.

  “Hello Monty.”

  “Need a hand?”

  “No, I’m good. But climb aboard.” I look over. Lucky motors away but holds Penelope about eighty feet away. I pull myself into the tender.

  We drift for a full minute without speaking. Mandy looks at me. “Monty I know you are too polite to ask about Korea so I will tell you the story. What happened was my mate Christine and I thought we’d be smart and try to reach a squad stuck behind enemy lines. They had wounded. Everyone told us not to go. We ran into a Chinese patrol and hid in a rice field. We would have been fine but a gaggle of geese gave us away.”

  “The Chinese were respectful. We couldn’t understand them of course. They put us in a truck and drove to a small airfield back of Sariwon. It was just a cleared field to land light transports really.”

  “Anyhow, they put us in a secure hut. After an hour or two they rouse us and take us to their first aid post. The doctor there was flat out. He had no orderlies or nurses. He spoke a little English and we helped him with the wounded for a few weeks. They were good lads - didn’t complain. We stitched wounds, assisted in theatre, and generally looked after the ward. Seven of the lads we looked after died. It was sad.”

  “The doctor’s name was Zhang Bo. It was his idea to steal a plane. The soldiers we nursed to health helped. They organised a Yakovlev Yak-9 fighter because they’re easy to fly. We worked the ward all hours so it was easy to steal away. The Yak was fully fuelled and ready to go. We did rock/paper/scissors and I ended up as pilot.”

  “I knew the basics but had never flown before. I gave it a little throttle and pushed the starter. The Yak roared into life and all hell broke loose. Lights came on and people ran to defence positions. A few bursts of machine gun fire erupted. We were lucky. I think they were reluctant to fire on their own aircraft. I pushed the throttle full, ran the Yak three quarters down the runway, and pulled back on the yoke. Take off was easy.”

  “The flight was uneventful. I followed rivers and roads - mainly over farmland. We copped a few shots through the wing but nothing major. Christine tried the radio but couldn’t find a friendly frequency. We flew over troops and army bases but I just kept low and steady, trying to look benign. It worked because eventually they sent an escort plane to guide us in. The pilot was Harry McGrath. I married him six months later.”

  She looks out to sea. “He died a decade ago. I never saw Christine again.”

  “So that’s my war story, Monty.” She pulls the starter, the outboard roars into life, and we make the short hop to Penelope. I step off the tender and onto the stern. Mandy stays in the tender. The outboard idles quietly.

  “Fingers, protect the dogs - bloody clowns need someone to look out for them. Monty, keep them fed and healthy. Tell Muscles I’ll bury Ten Stone for him. Don’t forget your fish is in the esky.” Ha! Two Dogs Monty - I love it.” She waves, turns the tender towards the open ocean, opens the throttle full, and rockets towards the horizon.

  Jessica puts her arm around me. “She’s dying Monty. This is her last adventure.” I nod and hold back tears.

  We watch until Mandy disappears in the hazy distance.

  No one speaks going home. We carry Muscles to his room and go our separate ways. I keep Trotsky and Helen with me all night. They sleep on my bed.

  21

  A Red Rose and Hash Browns

  I can hear the dogs as they pace up and down. I don’t want to get out of bed. I know there will be a mess out there. I hear the rustle of the bin liner being nosed around the kitchen so I get up. The mess is minimal. They both stand by the door and wait to be let out. I open the door a crack, Trotsky gets his big nose into the crack and flicks the door open. They both disappear down the corridor.

  I head down to the diner to start cooking breakfasts. Lucky stands by the cool-room. I stop, stand, and glare at him.

  “What?” I continue to glare.

  “Monty, you have something to say - say it.”

  “Ok Lucky, I am not used to watching friends disappear at sea.”

  “I wouldn’t think it was a regular occurrence. Add it to your life experiences.”

  I am annoyed by Lucky’s flippancy. I walk in closer and fix my eyes on his. Before I can speak, he walks over to a table and pulls out a chair.

  “Sit down Monty.” I continue to stand.

  “Oh, for goodness sake Monty sit down. You miss her. I miss her. We all do. She was terminal and in pain. She chose when and how to die. You were privileged to be with her.” He pauses, “I cut up your bonito by the way. You want some?”

  He walks to the cool-room and comes back with a plate of sashimi with some kind of white sauce. There is a pile of crackers on the plate. I take a bit of fish and a cracker. It is delicious in a soft, fishy kind of way.

  “I wasn’t, though was I?”

  “What?”

  “I wasn’t with her. Nobody was.”

  Lucky’s face softens, “No we weren’t with her. She wanted it that way. Ultimately, we all die alone, Monty. Mandy was a brave, independent friend. Could you see her dying in bed with a morphine drip in her arm? You can honour Mandy’s memory by living and dying well in your turn. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah Kinda.” Tears well up.

  “The boat trip was invite-only Monty. Mandy wanted you there.” Lucky smiles. “I think we made it fun for her. Sorry about the squid trick.”

  “That’s fine Lucky. Is there a wake or funeral or something?”

  “Nothing formal Monty, although if you look around you will see how people remember her. Your Dad looks after the legalities. Mandy put everything in order weeks ago.”

  I nod and head to the kitchen.

  I am flat out cooking breakfasts as usual. Once everyone has food I stand back and have a look around. Everyone is well dressed this morning: some wear military medals. Felicity sits, red-eyed. Fingers sits close and holds her hand. They are all unusually quiet. Muscles limps into the room. He sits at a table for two and places a single rose in the vacant place. I go back to the grill and cook bacon and eggs for him. I make sure there are hash browns. He likes hash browns.

  22

  Stockings, Suspenders, and Shotguns

  I am on my phone. “Lucky, there is a guy asking questions about Jessica. There’s another guy in a tree with a long lens camera.”

  “Tell them to fuck off Monty.”

  “I am sorry but you will have to fuck off.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, I am sorry but you will have to fuck off.”

  “I am on a public verge. I have a perfect right to be here.”

  “Yes, but you still need to fuck off.”

  “Well I am sorry but ……”

  “You heard him - fuck off.” Lucky has sent Muscles out. He has a chainsaw. Helen and Trotsky are just behind him. Question Man jumps a few inches in fright.

  “Oy, you in the tree. You have 30 seconds to pack up and piss off.” Muscles starts the chainsaw.

  The camera guy wriggles about as Muscles lops the first branch. “You got 15 seconds left. Better pass me the camera.”

  Camera Guy drops the camera down to Muscles. Muscles hands t
he camera to Helen. She takes it by the camera strap and runs off. The camera bounces and drags as she runs to her doghouse.

  “Hey! The dog’s got my camera!”

  “Yeah, shame. You have ten seconds left.”

  Camera Man drops out of the tree and lands with a thud. He leaps to his feet and starts after Helen. Muscles neatly grabs him by the collar and holds him two inches off the ground. He turns to Question Man.

  “You still here?”

  Question Man holds up his hands and backs away. He leaps into a nearby van. Muscles releases Camera, who runs off and jumps into the same van. They retreat with a squeal of tyres. Muscles switches off the chainsaw.

  “You’ve gotta be more assertive Monty.”

  “Um, ok Muscles.”

  It has been like this for a week or so, ever since Sarah announced her retirement. Her impending marriage to Jessica has also stirred up media interest. It will calm down soon. The wedding is this afternoon at Sarah’s place.

  My phone rings, “Monty, it’s Felicity, can you spare half an hour or so? You can? Come up to my place.”

  I head up to Flick’s unit. I knock and the door opens immediately. Flick hands me a camera. “We need bridal party photos, Monty. Oh, this is May, Sarah’s little sister.”

  This is a bit awkward. The ladies are all in various stages of undress. They buzz around and fuss over hair, makeup, stockings and suspenders.

  “Monty! Don’t ogle. Take photos.”

  I start to take photos. Sarah and Jess look magnificent in silk and lace undergarments. I take a series of them together. May and Flick are bridesmaids and are just as photogenic. I line up a photo and notice Flick has several flat knives strapped to her thigh. I pause and stare.

  “Monty, I always carry throwers, have for the last thirty years. Old habits and all that. Remember, never piss me off.”

  A very familiar humming fills the air. We know the sound of drones. Reporters are after pictures.

  “Bloody reporters - bastards.”

  Flick strides over to a nearby cupboard. She reaches in and grabs a long leather gun cover. In a fluid motion, she strips the cover off to reveal a long double-barrel shotgun. With easy strides, she moves to the balcony, slides the door open, and pauses. She smoothly shoulders the shotgun and blasts the drone out of the sky.

  Flick holds her pose and scans the sky. I can hear the hum of another drone. “There is one over by the doghouse!” Flick swings and empties the second barrel. The drone disintegrates and falls to the ground.

  There is silence. No more drones for now. Flick smiles at me. “That will give your Dad some work.”

  May stands with her mouth open. Sarah and Jess continue getting ready as if nothing is out of the ordinary. They all pose for a group shot. Sarah and Jess insist Flick includes the shotgun in the picture.

  “Who’s that creeping over the back fence?”

  I look and recognise the photographer Muscles chased away earlier. He can see Helen. She is asleep in the sun with her chin resting on his camera. He looks comical as he creeps towards her. “Ah crap, I’d better go down and sort him out.”

  I leave the ladies to their preparations and make my way downstairs. I walk out the rear door and stop to observe. I am pretty sure Helen is awake and watching. Camera Man creeps to within a few yards of Helen and stops. He pauses then edges forward, inch at a time. He slides his feet to not make audible footsteps. He is within a few feet now. He slowly bends down to grab the camera strap.

  Helen snaps her jaws over the strap. I knew she was awake! Camera Man grabs his camera and pulls. Helen pulls back. She shakes her head and growls. Camera Man pulls and growls back. Camera Man tries to kick Helen but can’t quite reach. She digs her feet in and pulls harder.

  Camera Man dives at Helen. Helen is not ready for this manoeuvre. He lands on Helen and grabs her by the scruff of the neck. She is torn - to defend herself she will have to relinquish her prize. She clamps her jaws firmly on the camera strap. Camera starts to prise Helen’s jaws open. Helen abandons the camera and thrashes about to dislodge her attacker. Camera Man snatches the strap away from her, jumps up, and scampers for the back fence.

  A can of Braised Steak and Onions hits him in the back of the head. He goes down like a dropped piano. Fingers leans over his balcony. Mandy appointed him “protector of dogs”, a role he takes very seriously.

  Camera Man stands slowly. A can of spaghetti and meatballs whizzes past his ear and bounces along the ground. He looks around for his attacker. Three cans of Brunswick sardines hit him in quick succession.

  Camera Man looks around wildly and makes for the only nearby shelter - the brick doghouse, where Trotsky is asleep. Camera runs in. I hear a growl and a scream. Camera runs out and trips over Helen. Helen and Trotsky are on him in a flash. His only saving grace is Fingers can’t get a clear shot without endangering one, or both dogs.

  Trotsky jumps on his chest. Their noses are touching. Helen sits back and lets Trotsky play this new game. Neither dog nor man moves. Trotsky’s eyes gleam with delight.

  Camera Man tries to sit up. Trotsky lets out a mighty “woof”, lunges his nose forward, and pushes him back down.

  Camera looks around and sees me watching. He cries out. “Help me!”

  “Woof,” responds Trotsky and whacks his muzzle into the bridge of his captive’s nose.

  “Owwww. Help somebody!”

  “Woof.” Trotsky whacks Camera’s nose again.

  “Ahhhhh owwwww.” Camera’s eyes water with the pain.

  “WOOF!” Trotsky puts some muscle into it. An audible crack comes from Camera’s nose. Helen runs around and barks in support.

  Mr Camera pushes and manages to roll over onto his stomach. Helen races in and grabs a handful of hair. Camera Man wriggles free and jumps to his feet. He abandons his camera and just sprints for the back fence. He reaches it and has one leg over when there is a mighty boom. A shattered drone plummets from the sky and cracks him neatly on the head. He disappears over the fence.

  Fingers drifts back inside, Trotsky and Helen retire to their doghouse, and I head upstairs to put on a suit for the wedding.

  I hear there is another mighty boom. Flick is teaching May to shoot.

  23

  Sarah and Jess get Married

  People in love are uplifting. They are like a cool breeze on a blistering day. Jess and Sarah taught me that.

  Jess and Sarah stand by the pool. They are breathtaking in matching white wedding dresses. Each dress is cut to show their slim frames to best effect. The sun filters down through the trees and the water glistens behind them. Felicity and May stand to the side.

  I sit between Sonia and Mary. The unfamiliar suit I wear is nothing compared to the discomfort I feel. Enrico sits with Brian and Celia. I am wary of Enrico’s motives. Lucky sits next to them.

  Andrea is back from New York. We don’t see a lot of her these days. She sits with Haru, the artist with the crane and paint cannons. They seem happy in each other’s company.

  Fingers arrives quite late with Trotsky and Helen in tow. “Neither of us are home Monty. I can’t leave them by themselves.” He has picked up the mantle of dog defender with the devotion of a cult member. Sarah directs the dogs to a spot by the pool, to the left of the ceremony. They sit upright and don’t move a muscle. I might give her the dogs.

  It’s a beautiful wedding and there is a collective sigh as they conclude the ceremony with a kiss. Cheerful applause follows.

  The girls each carry a wedding bouquet. They turn their backs and prepare to throw them. All the ladies present gather to catch one. They throw together. Both bouquets spin high in the air then begin to descend. Before anyone can react Helen launches herself and neatly picks Jessica’s bouquet out of the air. Everyone focuses on the second bouquet, which Sarah threw a little higher. It spins and falls. Trotsky muscles Mary aside to get in position. He leaps.

  Trotsky is a powerful, heavy dog. His strength is prodigious. His agility is not. Hi
s jaws snap inches below Sarah’s bouquet. At the same time, Sonia launches herself into a dive, pushes the snapping Trotsky aside, and grabs the spinning bouquet. She lands, rolls, and tosses it to me with a wink.

  Trotsky, off-balance and thrashing about, lands with an almighty splash in the pool. He surfaces and swims to the shallow end. He clambers out and struts over to the group of failed bouquet catchers. We all know what is about to happen but are powerless to stop him. He shakes. I don’t know how much water dog hair can hold but it seems like gallons rain over the tight group in huge droplets. There are squeals of delighted annoyance.

  Helen calmly walks over to Sarah and drops the bouquet at her feet. Sarah scratches behind Helen’s ears. Her hind leg twitches in delight. Sarah picks up the bouquet, turns, and re-throws it. Mary plucks it out of the air, turns, and also tosses it to me with a wink.

  Everyone thinks this is hilarious. I fail to see the humour.

  I hear a soft voice behind me, “Excuse me, are you Monty?”

  I spin around. There is a slight, blue-eyed, honey blonde standing behind me. She is wearing a tight, mid-length black skirt and red blouse. Her hair is piled high. A type of pink lily flower adorns her hair. Strands cascade down her right cheek in light waves. My mouth drops open. She is stunning.

  “Um, yes.”

  “I am Gail, Felicity’s daughter. Mum said I should find you.”

  I wonder if she has knives strapped to her thigh. Mary and Sonia glare at Gail from across the pool. I still hold two wedding bouquets and don’t know what to do with them. My nose is itchy. Without thinking I hand one to Gail. Mary and Sonia stiffen, glance at each other, and move slowly in my direction.

  “You were with Mandy on the boat. She was my godmother. She taught me to fish.”

  I think of the bonito and how Mandy coached me as I fought the fish. I remember how she plunged the gaff deep and swung the bonito on board.