Jack, stop counting magpies!
For several days, Jack had stubbornly refused to eat anything Susan gave him.
Oh really, darling, these are the same meatballs Mr. William used to buy for you. He wont be back for a whileDont get your hopes up, Susan shrugged helplessly.
It was a rather peculiar scene: at the long, faded yellow bus stop, all the factory workers would huddle nervously at one end. The other half was entirely emptysave for one scruffy, ginger mutt who sprawled out like a lout in front of the bench, every inch king of his little kingdom.
Jack was now four, and he knew life as well as his four paws. Every day, he patrolled the bus stop near the old council flats. Behind those was the factory, and beyond that, empty fields. Bit dull, reallyJack had explored it all, so many times hed stopped counting.
Even Jack couldnt recall how hed become Jack. Thats just what a couple of young women from the flats started calling him. Moved by the hard luck story practically written in his disheveled fur and haunted eyes, they made a habit of feeding him leftovers from their kitchens. But, truth be told, most people kept their distance from Jack.
Jack never fixed you with a soulful, pleading gaze. He wouldnt wag his tail in charming delight.
No, Jack was quite the opposite. Three full years under his belt, he acted like a cantankerous pensioner, mortally offended by the mere existence of others. In fact, Jack had scared off his fair share of would-be friends with soiled temperament alone.
People. What good could really be said about the majority of them? Very little, Jack reckoned. He graciously excluded only those two women who kept him in spare frankfurters.
He didnt like people, didnt like magpies, and glowered at the sparrows for having the audacity to chirp and bathe noisily in puddles.
That gullible time when youre a puppy and you blindly expect every person to stroke or cuddle youit passes. For Jack, that spell had been well and truly broken.
And really, in Jacks canine opinion, people were not so different from magpiesalways making a racket. Fights break out at the bus stop, folks pushing, shoving, shooing him off so he isnt underfoot.
Why bother loving them? No need to look for an answer
The magpies were a different kettle of fish. Bold little thieves, theyd pinch whatever scraps he managed to scrounge from generous souls at the flats.
Jack would chase the feathered scoundrels away. Theyd flutter off, consult each other in aggrieved caws, and decide they wouldnt go quietly.
And so the day would pass: a spat with the magpies, a rough count of which one still had all their tail feathers, a bark at some two-legged miscreant
All in all, life at the yellow bus stop wasnt so bad. Not the Ritz, sure, but you could hide your tail from the wind and rain now and then, and there was plenty of shade in summer. Only downside was the sheer abundance of people.
Oy, shift yourself, you old baron! Let me get to the bench!someones boot interrupted the dogs nap.
Jack cracked one eye. The boot tried to step over him, but the boss of the bus stop had other plans.
Looking for a fight, are you? Just you wait!
Jack leapt up instantly. The boot flinched, eager to escape in one piece, but just then its owners bus heaved into view.
There was nothing Jack detested more than seeing people leap onto busesalways chattering about their buses, like he cared. Plenty of enemies had slipped away that way.
Still, this time the boot itself was left at the bus stop, forlorn and ownerless.
Thatll show you! thought Jack, savouring his victory. He gnawed the newfound trophy thoroughly from all angles, then proudly stashed it behind the bin.
Emily, come away from that crazy dog, a blonde woman tugged her friend.
Mad beast, that onenobody can do a thing! nodded a man with a cigarette.
The stub landed perilously close to Jack, who again had to unleash his finest barking repertoire. Grumbling, the man made a strategic retreat to the far end of the stop.
*****
Next day, Jack met the boots owner againthis time, with a friend in tow.
There! There he is! The owner jabbed a finger at Jack from a safe distance. Thats the vicious mutt! Do something about him!
What? The other man shrugged. Youre not the first to complain, but theres no dog warden in our little town.
The boot waved his arms, talking at breakneck speed, more magpie than man. Jack perked up to listen.
At last, the second man began arguing too. Jack watched them with an air of pure satisfaction. What a fine spectacle!
But youre the security guard! the boot cried, outrage dialled up to maximum.
Jack didnt even bother to bare his teeth. People squabbling was far better than any old magpie quarrel.
The owner could have sworn the dog was smirking. No, surely not. Dogs didnt smirk! Did they?
I guard the council flats, not the bus stop! The guard set off for his post, then turned back. Try tossing him a bonehe wont bother you.
A perfectly sensible suggestion.
Oh, right! Maybe Ill bring him half the canteen next time! The boots owner sneered, then grumbled at Jack: Well? Why so silent, mongrel? Too grand to bark now, are we?
Sensing the rude tone, the beast helpfully chased the man onto his departing bus at a speed that would impress an Olympic relay team.
Jack barked at the tail-lights, while the pink-faced Mr. Williamas the boots owner was formally knownwas still shaking his fist and mouthing off behind the steamed-up window
Another encounter was inevitable. Mr. William had just landed a job as deputy production manager at the factory.
Everything was new to him. And now, as luck would have it, every morning at the bus stop he was greeted by a frenzied barking fit. What did he do to attract this flea-bitten demons wrath?! The car was in the garage, so he had no escape.
From that moment, it seemed Jack took a particular dislike to Mr. William. All other humans ceased to exist.
Jack awaited the familiar bus with barely leashed anticipation, longing to see that well-known foot step onto the pavement!
Mr. William, sick of the knowing glances factory folk gave him, decided to heed the security guards advice. He bought a meatball from the canteen, just for Jack.
Here, have this, he announced, plopping the treat beside the shelter.
Jack was raring to chase the boot onto his bus, but the tantalising aroma of meatball won out, drawing him closer.
The meatball vanished as if by magicJack barely remembered inhaling it. But the dust on the asphalt still clung to its glorious scent. He licked his lips, and glanced meaningfully at the man.
Oi! You greedy beggar! Still not enough? ListenI havent even got a wife to cook meatballs and I cant do them myself! If I haul food from the canteen every day, your evil mug will snap in two!
*****
Next morning, Mr. William was taken by surprise.
Mr. William, Jack doesnt bark at you anymore. Look, hes positively angelic! laughed the rosy-cheeked secretary, Susan.
Yes, Susan, I think I’ve won his respect, replied Mr. William, sneaking a puzzled peek at Jack.
From that day on, the ginger loner started looking forward to his daily treata meatball always appeared with Mr. William.
Well, perhaps not all humans were as daft as Jack once thought? Maybe they were a step above the squabbling magpies who spent mornings bickering over shiny bottle tops?
As the days grew colder, winter tiptoed in. One morning, a powdery white blanket dusted the yellow bus stop. The wind from the fields was biting.
Mr. William carefully set down his offeringmeatball and bonusesright under Jacks nose.
The shivering mutt stretched forward, not even managing a good look at the feast before it had vanished. Honestly, was this some sort of disappearing meatball?
Mr. William watched the trembling ginger flanks.
Your bus, Mr. William, Susan tugged him by the sleeve, but he just waved her off.
Oh, well! With great exasperation, he marched back to the factory gates.
Moments later, a gloved hand gently stroked Jacks shivering back. Jack eyed the man.
Chilly, are we? Not so tough now, eh? Here, lie down on this cardboard. Its a bit warmerWell prop it up here, out of the windHeres another meatball for you.
*****
On Saturday, Mr. William stayed home. The flowerbeds in front of his semi, which hed bought after moving to the suburbs, were buried under fat piles of snow. The wind whipped the flakes about with wild abandon.
He fried himself eggs and sausages, had his breakfast, and went out to the garage for the shovel. His hands worked away at the snow on the drive, but his thoughts wandered.
Suddenly, he stopped and looked at the dancing flakes. Muttering something incoherent, he dropped the shovel and darted off down the road.
Nobody at the bus stop. Jack knew there were days hardly anyone bothered with buses. It would still open its doors, though only a handful would clamber out.
On days like these, Jacks stomach growled the loudest. Even the two kindly women were nowhere to be seen.
Jack stood, resigned to the long trot towards the corner shop and some of the housesperhaps a crust, if he got lucky.
He was just about to leave his shelter when, once more, the bus pulled up in front of him.
Oy, where dyou think youre headed, lost in this blizzard?
Mr. William set out a feast: several packs of sausages.
No meatballsthe canteens closed today, he said sheepishly. But look what else Ive got
He hefted a large box lined with a battered old tartan blanket.
All I could come up with. In you get. Thatll keep the wind out, at least
And suddenly, for Jack, the cold and swirling snow ceased to exist. A lovely, warming glow suffused him somewhere deep inside.
No one had ever brought him anything like this before
*****
But for several days, Jack again refused to eat anything Susan brought.
Oh darling, its the same old meatballs Mr. William always gave you. He cant comehes come down with a cold…Please dont wait for him, Susan shrugged, defeated.
Jack, tail drooping, watched her go.
Every time the bus doors swung open or someone exited the factory gates, Jack perked up. Still not there
Sadly, hed plop back on his blanket in the box. Magpies fought noisily over crusts behind the shelter, each determined to squirrel away the biggest bit.
Jack watched them with a sigh. Bark! Silly birds! He had his own secret stasha hole beneath the shelter, just by the bin.
He trotted off to inspect it. He was no foolish magpie, prone to forgetting their treasures. There it wasthe boot. Of course he remembered. Hed hated it at first. But now
What was this tugging feeling? He dragged the boot out. Where was Mr. William? Jack understood now what people called his person. His person
Was he a real friend? Was he even a proper dog if, having finally found his human, he somehow managed to lose him?
Jack growled fiercely at the magpies. Enough! Time for a change!
Mr. William! Mr. William!
Jack pricked up his ears hopefully; Susan was on the phone.
Cant hear you…getting on the bus now. Ive got your documents to sign
Susan plopped herself onto a seat, completely missing the ginger tail that slipped aboard after her, shadow-like
*****
The dog and Hope (for that’s what her name meant) watched as Susan repeated his person’s name again.
Susan, winding her scarf tight against the cold, hopped off the bus. Jack followed, black boot gripped in his teeth.
Jacks spirits soared. How had he ever thought of snow as cold and unfriendly? It squeaked so cheerfully beneath Susans boots.
She rang the bell; soon a familiar voice echoed at the gate. Jack burst into joyous barking. Startled, Susan nearly slipped, sending the folder of documents flying into a snowdrift.
Mr. William, perhaps you could help me up before you start hugging the dog? she huffed.
Mr. William’s eyes were waterywas thata tear?
You came to see me? To me? And you brought me a present too, eh? He hugged Jack with one arm, clutching the boot with the other.
Susan was, of course, rescued and plied with a hot cuppa.
Mr. William, theres just one thing I dont understand, Susan said, watching Jack spinning in the kitchen, why didnt you take the dog in sooner? Detached house, all that space
I was scared, sighed Mr. William. Id been alone a long time, you see. A dog is a commitment, a responsibilityits like a little family…But now, Ill never let him go. Soon as Im well again, Ill even learn to cook meatballs
So you need to be rescued by force, do you? Susan laughed, shaking her head. Well, lucky for you Jack took matters into his own paws.
And Susan hid her smile behind her teacup, trying to look serious.
