Free Underdog by Euan Leckie

wire-frame enclosure. Each one was partitioned with a clean run to the front. The place looked more like a big cat enclosure at the zoo. Tom counted five units, each with large open entrances for the dogs to come and go as they pleased.
    The dog in the kennel closest to them was the one making most of the noise, its deep, guttural bark almost deafening. It was the biggest dog Tom had ever seen. Folds of skin wrinkling its face added to its formidable appearance, as did the stare in its cobalt blue eyes. The muscles twitched beneath its short-haired russet coat, and a gob of saliva swung from the corner of its sagging black lip. The dog barked even more excitedly as Stevo approached.
    ‘Wow,’ said Tom as he looked him over. ‘What kind is he?’
    ‘This is Roland,’ replied Stevo proudly. ‘He’s a French Mastiff. The old bastard breeds them big, eh?’
    He stopped in front of the kennel and put his hand up against the front of the enclosure. Roland came forward and began to lick at it through the mesh. More dogs began to emerge from the other kennels, loping into their runs. Their tails wagged and they vied for attention, whining and yelping. The noise they made was incredible, so loud it made Tom want to shout. He looked at the dog in the run next to Roland. It was almost as big. Its face was darker around the snout and not as wrinkled, the eyes deep brown, almost black.
    ‘Does your dad sell them?’
    ‘He ain’t my dad. He’s my stepdad .’ Stevo’s voice suddenly had an edge to it. ‘Why’d you ask, anyway? You want one?’ He smiled, instantly turning back on the charm. ‘Most people do when they see them the first time.’
    ‘They’re wicked. I love it,’ laughed Tom, secretly wishing he could take one. He knew his dad would never let him; he hated dogs.
    ‘They’re going to go wild for these,’ said Stevo, looking into the bags.
    He inspected each bone, admiring the whiteness of the ball joints and the scraps of red meat covering the shanks. He chose the best one he could find and unlatched the first cage door.
    ‘There you go, Roland.’
    The dog took a couple of steps forward and clamped the proffered bone in his jaws. Roland retreated a few steps and then sank down heavily onto his belly, gripping the bone with his front paws whilst he began to strip away what meat there was. The other dogs barked even louder.
    Tom whistled appreciatively. ‘How many have you got?’
    ‘Roland and Lucas are the studs,’ Stevo replied, nodding at the dark-eyed dog pawing at the door of the second run. ‘They cover the three bitches. Lucky bastards, eh? Minnie had her last litter a month ago.’
    He pointed out a slightly smaller dog in the kennel next to Lucas. Her teats were heavy, hanging like udders beneath her loose stomach. A puppy cautiously made its way out from inside the stone kennel. It walked unsteadily into the run and sat down next to its mother. Then another came, and another. They looked like miniature bears, tiny compared to the fully grown dogs, their short golden hair getting wet and spiky when she licked them.
    ‘She’s got another three in there,’ added Stevo. ‘He’ll make a killing. Seven hundred quid each, he gets. Most of them are sold already. And the other two bitches are both pregnant.’
    ‘He must do alright for himself.’ Tom tried to work out the maths.
    ‘He gets stud fees for Roland and Lucas, too. But it’s not all he does. Bastard’s into loads of other stuff.’
    Stevo leaned in conspiratorially. He lowered his voice.
    ‘Where d’you think I get the puff from?’ he grinned, letting Tom in on the secret. He carried on walking down the row of kennels, throwing a bone to each of the dogs. The pregnant bitches were the last to leave the cool of their kennels, and looked slow and tired as they stepped out into the heat. Any remaining barking soon gave way to the sound of gnawing and slobbering as the dogs lay down in the sunlight and set to work on their