was a gastronomic delight. Our noses disappeared into the mixture and for a few moments our minds were concentrated solely on filling our bellies. Rumbo got the tastier morsels, of course, but I didn't do too badly.
When the bowl was spotlessly clean, my friend wandered over to another bowl which stood beneath a dripping tap. He began to lap greedily at the water and I, my stomach fit to burst, drifted over and did the same. We slumped on the ground after that, too full to move.
'Do you eat this well every day, Rumbo?' I asked.
'No, not always. It's been a good morning. The Guvnor doesn't always bring me something - there've been times he hasn't fed me for days — and it's not always easy to steal. The shopkeepers around here are a bit wary of me now.'
The Guvnor had disappeared inside the hut and I could hear music blaring from a radio.
'Have you always belonged to the Guvnor?'
'I can't remember, to tell you the truth. He's all I've known.' Rumbo became deep in thought. Finally he said, 'No, it's no good. My mind goes fuzzy when I try to think too hard. Sometimes I remember scents when I sniff certain people. They seem familiar to me. I can't remember not knowing the Guvnor, though.
He's always been there.'
'Is he good to you?'
'Most of the time. Sometimes he ties me up when he wants to make sure I stay in all night, and sometimes he kicks me hard for shouting too loudly. But I can't help it. He's got some nasty friends and I just let fly at them when they come round.'
'What do they do here?'
'Talk mostly. They stay in that hut for hours, arguing and laughing. There's a few regulars who do the work around here, mess around with those heaps of junk, and things; bring new ones in. They're never Page 34
very busy.'
'What does the Guvnor do?'
'You're a bit nosy aren't you, squirt?'
'Sorry. I'm just interested, that's all.'
Rumbo eyed me suspiciously for a few moments. 'You're not like other dogs, are you? You're . . . Well, you're a bit like me. Most dogs are very stupid. You're stupid, but not in the same way. Where exactly are you from, pup?'
I told him all I could remember and discovered I was beginning to forget my past also. I could still remember the market where I was bought, but not much more between there and the dogs' home. It's something that's happening to me more and more; I have periods of complete lucidity, then my mind can go virtually blank - my past, my origins, a vague blur. I often forget I was a man.
I didn't voice my anxiety over my human ancestry at that time because I didn't want to alarm Rumbo in any way; I needed him so I could learn how to survive as a dog. Acceptance of circumstances comes more easily to an animal, you see, and it was that animal part of me which turned away maddening thoughts.
'You were lucky to get away from the dogs' home, pup. That's the death-house for many,' Rumbo said.
'Have you ever been inside?'
'No, not me. They'll never catch me as long as I can run.'
'Rumbo, why aren't all dogs like us? I mean, why don't they talk like us, think like us?'
He shrugged. 'They just aren't.'
'Rumbo, were you ever ... do you ever remember being . . . er, have you always been a dog?'
His head jerked up. 'What are you talking about? Of course I've always been a dog? What else could I have been?'
'Oh, nothing.' My head sank miserably down on to my paws. 'I just wondered.'
'You're a strange pup. Don't cause me any trouble here, shrimp, otherwise I'll turn you out. And stop asking silly questions.'
'Sorry, Rumbo,' I said and quickly changed the subject. 'What does the Guvnor do?' I asked again.
Rumbo's answering glare and bared teeth killed my curiosity for the moment. I decided to take a little nap, but just before I dozed off another thought struck me.
'Why don't men understand us when we talk, Rumbo?'
Page 35
His voice was drowsy with sleep when he replied. 'I don't know. Sometimes the Guvnor understands me when I talk to him, but usually he just ignores me, tells
When the bowl was spotlessly clean, my friend wandered over to another bowl which stood beneath a dripping tap. He began to lap greedily at the water and I, my stomach fit to burst, drifted over and did the same. We slumped on the ground after that, too full to move.
'Do you eat this well every day, Rumbo?' I asked.
'No, not always. It's been a good morning. The Guvnor doesn't always bring me something - there've been times he hasn't fed me for days — and it's not always easy to steal. The shopkeepers around here are a bit wary of me now.'
The Guvnor had disappeared inside the hut and I could hear music blaring from a radio.
'Have you always belonged to the Guvnor?'
'I can't remember, to tell you the truth. He's all I've known.' Rumbo became deep in thought. Finally he said, 'No, it's no good. My mind goes fuzzy when I try to think too hard. Sometimes I remember scents when I sniff certain people. They seem familiar to me. I can't remember not knowing the Guvnor, though.
He's always been there.'
'Is he good to you?'
'Most of the time. Sometimes he ties me up when he wants to make sure I stay in all night, and sometimes he kicks me hard for shouting too loudly. But I can't help it. He's got some nasty friends and I just let fly at them when they come round.'
'What do they do here?'
'Talk mostly. They stay in that hut for hours, arguing and laughing. There's a few regulars who do the work around here, mess around with those heaps of junk, and things; bring new ones in. They're never Page 34
very busy.'
'What does the Guvnor do?'
'You're a bit nosy aren't you, squirt?'
'Sorry. I'm just interested, that's all.'
Rumbo eyed me suspiciously for a few moments. 'You're not like other dogs, are you? You're . . . Well, you're a bit like me. Most dogs are very stupid. You're stupid, but not in the same way. Where exactly are you from, pup?'
I told him all I could remember and discovered I was beginning to forget my past also. I could still remember the market where I was bought, but not much more between there and the dogs' home. It's something that's happening to me more and more; I have periods of complete lucidity, then my mind can go virtually blank - my past, my origins, a vague blur. I often forget I was a man.
I didn't voice my anxiety over my human ancestry at that time because I didn't want to alarm Rumbo in any way; I needed him so I could learn how to survive as a dog. Acceptance of circumstances comes more easily to an animal, you see, and it was that animal part of me which turned away maddening thoughts.
'You were lucky to get away from the dogs' home, pup. That's the death-house for many,' Rumbo said.
'Have you ever been inside?'
'No, not me. They'll never catch me as long as I can run.'
'Rumbo, why aren't all dogs like us? I mean, why don't they talk like us, think like us?'
He shrugged. 'They just aren't.'
'Rumbo, were you ever ... do you ever remember being . . . er, have you always been a dog?'
His head jerked up. 'What are you talking about? Of course I've always been a dog? What else could I have been?'
'Oh, nothing.' My head sank miserably down on to my paws. 'I just wondered.'
'You're a strange pup. Don't cause me any trouble here, shrimp, otherwise I'll turn you out. And stop asking silly questions.'
'Sorry, Rumbo,' I said and quickly changed the subject. 'What does the Guvnor do?' I asked again.
Rumbo's answering glare and bared teeth killed my curiosity for the moment. I decided to take a little nap, but just before I dozed off another thought struck me.
'Why don't men understand us when we talk, Rumbo?'
Page 35
His voice was drowsy with sleep when he replied. 'I don't know. Sometimes the Guvnor understands me when I talk to him, but usually he just ignores me, tells
Similar Books
Crimson Waters
James Axler
Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery)
Victoria Thompson
Healers
Laurence Dahners
Revelations - 02
T. W. Brown
Diary of a Madman and Other Stories
Nikolái Gógol
Cold April
Phyllis A. Humphrey
Secrets on 26th Street
Elizabeth McDavid Jones
His Royal Pleasure
Leanne Banks
Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands
Brian J. Jarrett
The Clueless Girl's Guide to Being a Genius
Janice Repka