We moved from the countryside to the city in 1975. Back then, we bought a semi-detached house on the outskirts of Birmingham. But what a surprise we had coming our way.
You see, just as all villagers did back then, my parents were always willing to lend a hand to anyone in need. So when the previous owners asked if they could stay in what was now our house for a few weeksjust until they sorted the final paperworkmy parents reluctantly agreed.
Those people came with a huge, ill-tempered doga beast I remember to this day. We didnt want her inside since she barely acknowledged any of us.
A week passed. Then another. By the third week, the former owners were still sleeping until lunchtime, hardly ever leaving the house, as though they werent even considering moving out at all. The thing that grated most was their attitudethe way they acted, youd have thought they were still the masters of the house. Especially the mother of the previous owner.
Time and again, my parents reminded them of the arrangement, but their departure kept getting postponed.
Every day, theyd let that dog out for a walk. Not only would the animal foul the entire garden, but my siblings were too frightened to step outside. The dog lunged at everyone. My parents begged them countless times not to let her out, but the moment Dad left for work and my brother and sister dashed off to school, there she wasout in the yard again.
In the end, it was the dog that gave Dad the push he needed to get rid of our unwelcome guests.
One afternoon, my sister Emily came home from school and, forgetting about the dog, she pushed open the garden gate. The black mongrel barrelled into her, and only the sturdy quality of her thick duffle coat saved her from serious harmjust the coat got ripped. The dog was caught and chained up again, and somehow, they managed to blame my little sister for coming home early.
That evening, all hell broke loose. Dad rushed home, and before even taking off his coat, he marched straight in and chucked the old woman, still togged up, out onto the pavement. Her daughter and son-in-law scrambled after her, not daring to risk Dads temper. Every last cheeky possession of theirs was hurled over the fence, straight into the mud and puddles.
They even tried to set the dog on Dad, but as soon as the dog saw the scene, her tail was between her legs and she scuttled right back into her kennel, clearly wanting no part in their row. Within an hour, all their belongings were out in the rain, the gate was locked tight, and the dog stayed behind the fence with her owners, surrounded by their muddy heap.
