Jack, stop counting crows!
For several days now, Jack had been turning up his nose at the meals Sarah offered him.
Come on, love, these are the same meatballs that Mr. Richard used to bring you. He wont be coming for a while Dont wait for him, Sarah said, spreading her hands in helplessness.
It was an odd sight At the long, faded yellow bus stop, the factory workers had all huddled together to one side. The other end was empty, save for a gingery, shaggy dog whose matted fur hung in tufts as he stretched luxuriously in front of the bench.
Jack was nearly four, and he knew life as well as the back of his four paws. He spent his days at the bus stop by the row of council flats. Beyond the flats stood the factory, and past that, the barren fieldsnothing much to see, and Jack had sampled all of it already.
Jack couldnt remember how hed acquired the name. Some young women from the flats had christened him, and, out of sympathy for the stray, shabby dog, they would sometimes slip him a bit of food. But, for the most part, people avoided Jack.
He never gave anyone a mournful look, nor did he wag his tail in eager friendliness. Jack wasnt that sort of dog. Even at the sprightly age of three, he was more like a crabby old man grumbling at every passer-by. His bad temper alone was enough to keep most folk at bay.
People What good could be said about them? Most of them? Absolutely nothing! The two young women who gave him treatshe mercifully didnt count them among the rest.
Jack didnt care for people or crows, and he watched the chattering sparrows with open disdain as they splashed in the puddles.
That time in life when youre a pup and trust every humans outstretched hand soon passes; it had passed for Jack, too. As far as he could see, humans, much like the crows, made horrid, jarring sounds. Theyd bicker at the stop, jostle one another, chase the dog out of their way.
Why should he care for them? There was hardly any point in searching for an answer.
There was a different story with the crowsthose brazen creatures kept pilfering the scraps the women from the flats left him. Jack would leap at them, but theyd only flap away, congregate, and decide that next time they wouldnt be bested so easily.
So the days rolled by: squabbling with crows, counting their ragged numberseeing how many still strutted about with all their tail feathersand barking at any two-legged interloper who crossed his path.
On the yellow bench, life was simple enough. No grand palace, to be sure, but there was always shelter from wind and rain and shade on hot days. There were just too many people sometimes
Oi, look at him, lying there like Lord Muck! Move it, let us get to the bench!someones boot nudged Jack from his drowsy reverie.
Jack blinked awake. The boot tried to step over his paws, but the master of the bus stop had other ideas.
Looking up as if to say, Feel like a fight, do you? Go on then, try it! Jack sprang to his feet. The boot tried in vain to stand its ground, but then its owners bus arrived.
There was little that Jack despised more than people hopping onto one of those busy busesthey always managed to escape him that way. Many had got away from him like that before.
Yet, the boot itself remained, abandoned at the stop. Alone and lifeless.
Serves you right! thought Jack, quite pleased. He chewed his trophy from every angle before dragging the boot proudly behind the litter bin.
Lizzie, stay away from that mangy mongrel, a blonde woman pulled her friend back.
Mad dog that, no ones got him under control, nodded a man, puffing on a cigarette.
The butt landed wide of the bin and nearly hit Jack. The dog, once again, responded with furious barking. The man cursed and stalked to the far end of the stop
*****
Next day, Jack encountered the boots owner again, this time with another man by his side.
Thats him! That aggressive dogdo something! the owner jabbed a finger toward Jack, standing as far as possible from him.
What do you want me to do? the other replied in confusion. Youre not the first to complain, but theres no animal control in our town.
The boot man flapped his hands, chattering like a magpie, while Jack lifted his head, ears pricked, listening.
At last, the second man grew agitated too. Jack watched them, eyes twinkling. Wasnt it delightfulhumans growling at each other, even better than seeing the crows quarrelling over a walnut.
The boots owner could have sworn a smug grin crept across the dogs facebut surely not, that would be ridiculous!
I guard the flats, not the bus stop! the security guard protested, turning back to his post. Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder, Chuck him a bone, he wont bother you at the stop then.
He meant it as useful advice, of course.
Oh, thanks a lot! And maybe I should bring him half my dinner from the canteen too? the boots owner sneered, shooting a glare at Jack. And you, mutt, why so quiet? Too grand to growl now, are you? Beast!
Beastas if understanding the insultsnarled as the owner fled for the approaching bus like a man late for the Derby.
Jack barked after the bus, while the red-eyed face of Mr. Richardthe boots rightful ownercontinued mouthing curses behind the steamed-up glass.
Their next encounter was inevitable. Mr. Richard had only just been promoted to deputy manager at the factory. Everything was newfaces and routinesand now, this blasted mongrel at the bus stop. And with his car in the shop, there was no avoiding the creature; every morning started with barking and bitterness. What had he ever done to deserve this mangy fiends hatred?
From that day, it seemed, Jack reserved all his ill-temper for Mr. Richard, ignoring everyone else. Hed wait, nose twitching with anticipation, for the bus that would disgorge his familiar adversary.
Tired of the workers smirks, Richard finally decided to heed the guards advice. From the cafeteria, he bought a meatball for Jack.
Eat, go on, he grumbled, shaking the meatball from a packet. He glared at the dog, waiting.
Jack, poised to harry the boot-man onto the bus, was caught off guard by the scent of warm meat. Irresistible. He edged closer, took a sniff, and the meatball vanished in an instant, as if by magic. Only the dusty tarmac retained the trace of its delicious aroma. Licking his lips, Jack gazed at Richard, longing for more.
What are you staring at? Not enough for you, is it? Well, you can forget it Im neither married nor handy with cooking! Cant be carting you food from the canteen every day, you rotten-faced brute!
*****
The next morning Richard was startled by a change.
Not fond of you anymore, is he, Mr. Richard? Look, hes not barking at all! Sarah, the rosy-cheeked secretary, laughed.
Indeed, Sarah, I think hes come to respect me, Richard replied, sneaking a baffled glance at Jack.
From then on, the ginger mutt came to expect the daily treat; each day, Richard would arrive bearing a meatball.
Maybe, Jack wondered, not all people were as daft as hed once suspected. Perhaps there was a difference between them and the crows, eternally squabbling over a bit of shiny rubbish.
The cold crept in Winters gentle hand settled over everything. One morning, the yellow bus stop was dusted with a soft white layer. A sharp wind swept off the fields.
Richard, true to his new ritual, placed a meatball and a couple of other morsels on the ground before Jack.
Jack, trembling in the chill, nosed closer. As always, he barely glimpsed the meatball before it disappeared, almost as if it had never been real. Only the faint, beloved scent lingered.
Richard watched Jacks quivering, ginger sides. Your bus, Richard, Sarah tugged his sleeve but he waved her off.
Oh, blast it! Richard muttered in rare annoyance before heading back towards the factory gates.
A little later, a leather-gloved hand gently stroked Jacks head. The dog looked up.
Feeling the cold now, old chap? Not so fierce, are you? Here, come lie on the cardboardbit warmer that way Lets put this over by the side, closer to the wall And heres another meatball
*****
On Saturday, Richard was home. The flowerbeds at his new house, on the very edge of town, lay buried under a thick blanket of snow. The wind battered flakes across the garden.
Richard fried eggs and sausage, ate his solitary breakfast, then went out to the garage for his shovel. He cleared snow from the path with heavy arms, but his thoughts wandered
Richard stopped, watching the swirling flakes in the cold air. He muttered something under his breath, abandoned the shovel, and dashed through his gate.
The bus stop was emptysome days, hardly anyone turned up. Still, the bus doors opened faithfully, and just a handful stepped off.
On days like these, Jacks belly growled all the louder. The women from the flats werent to be seen
Jack rose, knowing hed have to run a long way to the little shop and the rows of housesperhaps, there, someone might toss him a meagre tidbit.
He was about to set off, when the bus stopped right in front of him.
Oi, where do you think youre off to? Planning to get lost in this blizzard? Richard stepped down, unpacking a stash of sausages right onto the snowy ground. Jack devoured them as if they were about to vanish again.
No meatballs today, the canteens shut, Richard mumbled apologetically. But here, I brought you this
A large box appeared, with a faded tartan blanket inside.
Its all I could think of. Go on, climb inyoull be a bit warmer
Suddenly, for Jack, and only for Jack, the snow and wind vanished. He felt something warm, soft, and strange blossom inside him.
He thought only one thing: never before had anyone brought him such a gift.
*****
For several days, Jack refused the food that Sarah brought him.
These are the same meatballs Mr. Richard used to buyhes just off sick a bit, love Dont wait for him, Sarah said, shrugging.
Jacks ears drooped as he looked at her.
Each time a bus door opened, or someone came out of the factory gates, Jack sprang to his feet. But it was never him
He slunk reluctantly back to his blanket in the box as crows fought over a stale crust right behind the stop. Each bird wanted to spirit away the prize to their secret stash.
Jack watched with tired eyes, giving a bark: Foolish birds! He too had a secret stasha hole just behind the litter bin.
He trotted from his box to his hiding place. Unlike those silly, squawking crows who forgot their buried treasures, he remembered. Therethe boot! He remembered how much hed once loathed it. Now
What was this feeling clawing at his insides? Jack dragged out the boot. Where was Mr. Richard? Jack had finally understood the name the people used for his humanhis human.
But what sort of friend was he? What sort of proper dog was he, if once he had a human, and somehow managed to lose him?
Jack growled ferociously at the crows. Something new and fierce awoke in him. Enough! No more lingering here with you lot!
Mr. Richard! Mr. Richard!
Jack pricked up his ears, gazing with hope at the young woman on her phone.
Signals bad Ill hop on the bus. Ive got your folders for signing Sarah bundled herself in her scarf, stepped on the busand never noticed the ginger tail that slipped behind her like a silent shadow.
*****
Hopeful, Jack watched as the woman repeated his humans name several times more.
Sarah sprang off the bus, the scarf wound high on her neck. Jack followed, black boot clutched tightly in his jaws.
Jacks spirits soared. How on earth had he ever thought white was cold and unfriendly? Listen to how it crunched beneath Sarahs boots!
She pressed the doorbell, and soon a familiar voice called from the gate. Jack, overcome, burst into barking. Sarah, startled, slipped; her folder of documents landed cheerfully in the snow
Mr. Richard, would you mind helping me up first, before you smother your dog with hugs?
Richards eyes glistened, the world wavering as though seen through frosted glass. Where had those tears come from?
You came to me? You really came? And you brought a present, too, eh? he kept repeating, clutching Jack with one hand and the old boot in the other.
Sarah was helped up, of course, and treated to a cup of strong, hot tea.
Theres something I dont understand, Mr. Richard, Sarah said, watching Jack nap on the kitchen floor. Why didnt you ever take the dog home before? Theres more than enough space here
I was afraid, Richard admitted, sighing. Id been on my own for such a long time. A dogtheyre a responsibility, arent they? Theyre family, really but now, I cant let him go. When Im back on my feet, Ill learn to fry meatballs for him myself
So youre the one who needed a rescue? Sarah teased, shaking her head. Good thing Jack decided to come home to you.
She tried, and almost succeeded, in hiding her smile behind a steaming mug of tea.
