Life was always giving Alex a sharp, stinging reminder: “Don’t push, you don’t belong here, step aside.” And Alex did step aside. He figured life was right – better to keep your head down, you’d live longer. Mother Nature had really gone to town on him: short, scrawny, frail. So at school they called him a weakling, and sometimes gave him a few thumps for good measure. Alex had almost no friends, except one – Paul.
“I’ll grow up,” Alex used to think, “and all this will stop. Adults are sensible. They don’t hand out stupid nicknames or slap you for nothing.” Oh, how wrong he was.
*****
With slaps, adult life was a bit better – they weren’t passed around like sweets. But the nicknames… Alex was called all sorts: a runt, a bug, a tiddler, a mouse. It stung, but he had no idea how to hit back. You see, his tiny frame came with a huge dose of shyness. That shyness held him back even more than his plain looks. New relationships never took off. So he only hung around with his old school friend Paul, and his mum while she was still alive.
Years rolled by. Alex worked as a warehouse keeper at a local supermarket, and he didn’t even think about a love life – though the staff was ninety percent women. But the ladies looked at him like he was some sort of mascot. They fussed over him, fed him home-cooked meals. “Poor little thing,” they’d whisper. To make matters worse, by the time Alex hit forty, he’d lost both parents. So the soft-hearted women felt sorry for him…
That went on until the day he met Mary. Mary was a woman with a capital ‘W’. You couldn’t miss her – tall, with striking curves, and a voice that carried. She was magnificent!
Alex fell head over heels, hopelessly. He was too scared to even approach her. What was he compared to her? A flea, a pale moth, a molecule. But life has a twisted sense of humour. And with that humour, it decided to bring the little, shy weakling together with the big, loud Mary. The method life chose was old but reliable. How many stories are there about a rescuer falling for the rescued? Plenty. And so Mary got her chance to rescue Alex…
Here’s what happened. Alex was standing in the checkout queue, staring at the glorious Mary behind the till. He was going pale, turning red, fidgeting, shifting a carton of milk from hand to hand. Then two young blokes with bottles of cheap booze showed up behind him, elbowed the scrawny Alex aside. “You’ll wait for us, mate. We’re in a hurry,” one said.
On any other day, Alex would have quietly let them through. But not today – Mary was watching! “Hold on, lads, get in the queue. My lunch break isn’t rubber, either,” he squeaked.
“Don’t you start! We said you’re behind us, so you’re behind us!” One of them already placed his bottle on the conveyor belt. The second turned and gave Alex a light shove in the chest. “Keep your distance, mate!”
Alex’s face went purple. He opened his mouth, but Mary beat him to it. “In order!” she boomed from the till. “And you two, let’s see some ID! Maybe I’m not allowed to sell you alcohol at all!”
The two bullies got nervous. “Oh, come on, we’ve got a house full of kids at home, and you’re asking for ID!” one tried to joke.
“Listen, ‘doting dads’, don’t mess me about. Either prove you’re over eighteen, or clear off home to mummy and daddy,” Mary ordered.
The security guard, Pete, had perked up behind her. So the two bullies, muttering under their breath, decided to leg it.
“Cheeky little runts!” Mary said angrily. Then she looked at Alex and added more gently, “Come on, Alex, let me ring you through. You need to eat – you’re far too skinny. Even little thugs pick on you.”
“Thanks…” Alex mumbled. He wanted the floor to swallow him up. “That’s it, not a hope in hell of Mary fancying me now. What a way to humiliate myself – scared of a couple of kids! Though how was I supposed to know they were kids – they were built like brick outhouses,” he fretted.
But it turned out completely the opposite. From that day on, Mary treated him differently. She smiled, flirted, started bringing him home-cooked lunches. The other women at the shop backed off. Alex had no idea what Mary had done to arrange that. But he overheard them whispering once:
“Our little mouse is Mary’s trophy now.”
“Good for them, let her have him. Maybe she’ll marry him and fatten him up properly.”
Alex wasn’t too bothered about being a trophy. “So I’m precious to her,” he decided. “She values me. And from there it’s one step to love. For now, my love will do for both of us.”
That thought pushed Alex to take action. Crushing his shyness, he asked Mary out on a date. She said yes. One thing led to another, and they tied the knot.
But married life was a let-down. Mary immediately appointed herself head of the household. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but she had a peculiar idea of what a head should do – not only make decisions and control everything, but also punish and discipline.
Oh, how many times Alex got a telling-off for the slightest mistake. He hung the chandelier wrong, didn’t wipe the floor properly, left a plate unwashed… Alex put up with it. Despite everything, he loved his rescuer, Mary. And he desperately wanted to be loved himself. He hoped things would improve once they got used to each other.
Those illusions, along with the last scraps of love, were knocked out of him by a single slap.
“Useless waste of space! Weakling! Runt!” Mary raged that evening. “Can’t you do anything right? Nothing to say? Well, you’d better tell me where I’m supposed to find another cup like this one! It was my gran’s, antique, my favourite. You’ve got clumsy mitts – can’t even wash the dishes properly! I’ve no patience left for you!”
Alex didn’t get a chance to answer. When Mary ran out of words, she resorted to action. Her hand was heavy. But as soon as Alex’s head cleared, he realised: “Time to split. I had enough beatings as a kid.”
With rows and shouting, they got divorced. Alex was once again disappointed in people and swore he’d never fall in love again.
*****
Life had been kicking Lily around too – completely undeservedly. She was a cracker of a dog: black, long, big. A full twelve kilograms of joy. But for some reason nobody wanted that much joy. So Lily got passed from hand to hand.
The first owner didn’t like her looks. “This is some kind of mutant dachshund – overgrown, not to standard. No good. Never wanted a mongrel.” So he quickly palmed her off to a mate.
“What breed is that? A super-sized dachshund? She’s huge! Her mum must have shacked up with a basset hound. And what a barker! Perfect – she’ll guard the allotment.” But guarding didn’t work out. Lily had a deep, menacing bark, but she only used it when she felt like it – not when there were intruders.
“Daft dog,” they’d scold her. “Useless barker. Eats like a horse, can’t guard. And she’s trampled all the flowers and dug up the lawn. Time to find you a new owner.”
With difficulty, a new owner turned up – an elderly woman, sweet in every way but very slow. Lily swore she’d be a good dog. But again, it didn’t work out.
Lily, to be honest, didn’t see any fault of her own. She just couldn’t resist dashing after a cat, yanked the leash harder than necessary, and her owner fell. But Lily didn’t do it out of spite – instincts. And the owner was only shaken up, thank God. Was that any reason to part ways? But people are odd creatures.
“I can’t handle her,” the elderly owner complained on the phone. “I value my life. Find somewhere to place her, or I’ll just let her out on the street.”
And that someone must have worked hard. Lily got a new family – a proper family of three: a man, a woman, and a child.
“Lily, don’t pick on little Andy,” the man ordered. “Or I’ll give you a proper telling-off.”
Lily wasn’t planning to bother the little human. But Andy had his own plans for the dog: “You’ll be my pony,” the four-year-old announced, trying to climb on her back. Lily wriggled free and growled. She was big, but hardly a pony.
Andy got cross and started bawling. The woman grumbled and shouted. The man reached for his belt. Lily hid under the bed. Then the man turned red, yelled, and threatened to take her to the pound.
Nobody knows how it would have ended, but one day a friend visited the man. Lily crept out from under the bed to see who had arrived. The friend turned out to be a small, scrawny bloke named Alex.
“A proper weed,” Lily thought. “My owner’s much bigger. That bloke must be a non-standard model too, just like me.”
“Hi, Paul, haven’t seen you in ages,” Alex hugged Lily’s owner. “I see you’ve got a new addition. Got a dog? I’ve finally divorced my wife.”
“About time, congratulations! And I’m trying to ‘divorce’ this dog. I’ve regretted getting her a hundred times,” Paul sighed. “She’s badly behaved, nasty, growls at Andy, and when you tell her off, she hides under the bed. I’m thinking of giving her away.”
“What, just like that? Why give her away?” Alex looked at Lily sympathetically. “You say she’s badly behaved – have you actually trained her? Shouting and punishing isn’t training. She needs a proper dog trainer. I’m no dog expert, but I’ve been through it myself – shouting and slaps didn’t reform me.”
“What dog trainer, Alex? I barely have time for my family, working like a horse. And my wife’s got no time either. Listen, since you’re so clever, why don’t you take Lily off our hands?” Paul suggested. “You’re single and free now. Train her to your heart’s content. It’s a good idea – everyone wins: us, Lily, and you!”
“I’d take her, but would she come willingly? She’s used to you lot, I guess?” Alex looked at Lily questioningly.
“I like this one,” Lily thought. “He talks sense, no kids – as far as I can tell – and he’s a bit different himself. That means he’ll understand me better than the others! I’ve got to show I’m keen.” And she wagged her tail twice.
“Look at that, she’s keen!” Paul grinned. “Let’s hope you can manage her. And who knows, maybe you’ll meet your own fate at some dog park.”
“No thank you. I’ve had enough of that,” Alex waved him off.
That evening, Alex and Lily went home together.
It turned out that handling Lily was far easier than handling his ex-wife. She didn’t act up, didn’t scream over nothing, and certainly didn’t raise a paw. If she didn’t get something the first time, she got it the second. And more than that, she adored Alex. He was her whole world: her friend, her owner, her everything.
They went to dog training classes together, walked in the park, learned, played, and chatted. And Alex was grateful that fate had pushed him to visit his old school friend that evening.
“Dogs are definitely better than people,” Alex thought. “Lily proves that. Clever, beautiful, obedient – well, nearly obedient, but that can be fixed.”
But he didn’t think that for long. It turned out that among people, there were also remarkable types: kind, perceptive, and caring. He just hadn’t known where to find them before. Now he’d discovered – dog parks are full of them. He’d got to know many thanks to Lily. Some had become friends.
And, you never know – maybe one day he’ll fall for some owner of a pomeranian or a great dane. Not right away, but Alex doesn’t rule it out.
