Just Walking the Dog
by Mark West
Alec fell over.
One minute he’d been walking along minding his own business, the next he was lying flat on his back with the late December snowflakes settling on his face. He laid still for a moment, as the snow melted away and then looked around quickly to see if anyone had been watching him. From his Chihuahua height eye level, it looked as though nobody had, so gingerly he got up. His backside was stinging so he rubbed it with his cold hands and then he bent to pick up the video case he’d dropped. If his father hadn’t forgotten that he’d taken out “The War Machine” just before Christmas, Alec wouldn’t be where he was now. But he had, so Alec was making his way to the video shop along treacherous pavements.
He started walking again, limping slightly, when he heard the dog. It was barking wildly and gasping every so often, as though it were straining against a leash.
“Tiger !” reprimanded a voice, “slow down. Come on, we’ll be home soon.”
Alec looked along the path ahead of him for ice. The last thing he wanted to do was another spectacular back flip in front of an audience. However, because of the dim street lights, he couldn’t see properly so he decided to walk in the road.
And then the dog howled and Alec felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. It sounded like a wolf or something.
“Slow down, Tiger, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Even though the wind was blowing, Alec was sure that the voice was coming from the street he was about to walk past. He checked the road again as he heard the voice say; “Alright, Tiger, I’ll let you go but just be careful at the top of the hill.”
Even with the wind, Alec heard the leash being unclipped and then came an ear splitting roar.
Alec froze in his tracks. He’d assumed that the animal was a dog but it didn’t sound like any dog he’d ever heard, or any of the wolves that he’d seen on television. In fact, he’d never heard anything like it. My God, what if it was something from the jungle, a lion or something maybe? He laughed quietly.
“Yeah, sure, Alec.” Like tigers would waste their time in Gaffney?
He heard the animal pounding up the hill, he could hear it’s breath rasping, he could sense how fast it was going. It sounded as fast as an Intercity.
No, it couldn’t be, he thought. The fall must have given me concussion or something. But even so, he turned around and began to walk back the way he’d come. There was another roar and then the pounding of concrete stopped. He could hear the animal breathing heavily and, his curiosity getting the better of him, he turned around.
The sabre tooth tiger was standing at the corner of Stanley Street and Littlewood Street, where he had been only moments before. Alec blinked hard and re-opened his eyes. The sabre tooth tiger was still there. That’s impossible, he thought, I really do have concussion. But there it stood. Its pelt was a light orange and the snowflakes that touched it melted away immediately. Heat radiated from the beast in waves.
It roared again and Alec looked into the open maw where the creature's breath was dissipating and a painful death beckoned. Large incisor teeth stood guard on either side of the mouth and the points touched the lower jaw. Whiskers grew long and taut from the snout.
“Impossible,” said Alec quietly.
But it was there and it was definitely a sabre tooth tiger. It was squatting there and it was staring at him. As he watched, it pushed back with its forelegs, rested for a second on its haunches and then leapt. It was after him, ears flicked back in an obscene parody of those dinosaur books that he’d read as a child.
Still hoping that this was all a dream and that at any second he would wake up, lying on his back in the road, Alec took no chances and began to run back the way he’d come, yelling, “Jesus Christ!” But the creature was fast, much too fast for him. He’d only gotten fifteen yards when he heard it behind him and then it was all over. With a great triumphant roar, it leapt and dragged him down. Its paws slid off his jacket, tearing out one shoulder and they both fell heavily to the floor. Realizing he was still alive, Alec rolled one way and the creature rolled the other.
He laid where he had landed, too scared to turn, too scared to do anything. His breath burned in his throat, his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his heart was beating a tempo. He waited for the bite but then he heard the creature chewing on something else. Slowly he turned and saw the beast eating the video, case and all. Deciding that now was the best time to make a move, he started to edge towards the curb.
“Tiger, Tiger, where are you ? Tiger ?”
Alec looked to the path for a means of escape. About three yards away from him was a low, snow covered wall that was backed by a solid wall of conifers. He looked back at the tiger which was ignoring him and made his move. He pushed himself up, ran the short distance to the wall and threw himself over it, not knowing or caring what lay behind them. The tiger instantly left the video and set off in pursuit of its prey again, howling.
Alec crashed through the conifers and fell down a small incline, sliding down the icy grass until he came to rest in an iced over plastic covered sandbox. The plastic crackled as he rolled off and then he ran towards the house in front of him. There were no lights on and he decided not to wait around and rung the bell. He looked around quickly and saw a gate that led onto Stanley Street. He ran over to it, almost slipping over twice and then the beast came through the conifers. It howled as it slid down the slope and its claws slashed the plastic as it attempted to get out of the sandpit.
Alec vaulted the gate and fell in a heap onto Stanley Street.
“Hey mate, have you seen Tiger here’s about, anyplace ?”
Fearing what he might see if he turned around, Alec ignored the owner and began to run down the hill not caring any more about the ice. All he wanted now was to escape.
The beast crashed through the gate and roared as it saw its prey careering down the hill.
“Tiger, there you are ! Stay boy, stay there.”
But Tiger was having none of it. It roared again and set off after Alec.
Alec, throat burning, lungs hurting and legs threatening to stop, thought he might be in with a chance now. A friend of his lived on Stanley Street and if he could just reach his house he might be alright. But then what, who could he ring? The police, the fire brigade, the RSPCA, Rolf Harris? Hadn’t the thing just crashed through a gate back there - it was unstoppable and death seemed inevitable.
And then he fell over again.
His hands slapped the pavement, jarring his arms angrily in their sockets. The denim was ripped from the knees of his jeans and his skin grated hard on the floor. He screamed, winded, as stars danced in his vision and cymbals clashed in his ears.
He laid on the floor, all fight gone, his face pressed to the cold path as he heard the beast slow up behind him. It stopped, sniffed at his ankles and then licked its lips, sounding like someone preparing to carve the Sunday roast. And then it bit him.
Instead of blinding agony, all he felt was a little terrier like nip. His bladder let go though, all the same.
“Tiger, stop it ! Leave that poor boy alone !”
The owner walked up to Alec and reached into his armpit.
“Sorry about that, mate. Come here, let’s get you up.”
Alec shook the hand off, sobbing. “Go away!”
The owner sounded taken aback. “I’m sorry?”
“Go away and take that thing with you.”
“Look mate, I’m sorry if Tiger nipped you, but there isn’t a lot I can do about it now, is there ? Come on, let me help you up.”
Still sobbing, Alec yelled; “Go away. Go on and take that tiger with you!”
“Look, I apologize.”
Alec had had enough. He sat up, ignoring the blasts of pain that came from his hands and knees - he was going to tell the owner just what he thought of him and his stupid creature. He faced the owner and fell back down on the floor in a dead faint.
Guric, Neanderthal caveman from the Northern wood, exchanged a look with his favourite sabre tooth tiger and then looked back at the teenager lying in front of him.
“Okay, Tiger, sic ‘im!”
And Tiger did.
© Mark West 1999