No, no, no. This isn’t right. My master has left me behind. I stand with my ears pricked, eyes focused on the door. Any second now, he will realise his silly mistake and come back to get me. Any. Second. Now.
Master? I bark.
The man who stands behind me begins to speak, but it’s the usual human mumbo jumbo, so I have to turn around and face him to try to work out what he means.
Out of nowhere, he produces a ziplock plastic bag, which, by the smell alone, I can tell is the same good quality treats my master buys. Now, if this stranger thinks he can distract me with the promise of a juicy treat. Hold that thought because the madman has just lobbed three of them onto the floor. I snaffle them up before he changes his mind. Now, to my surprise, he throws three more, so I quickly eat them too. And, no sooner than those are down the hatch, boom! Three more treats hit the floor. I have never experienced anything like it. It’s practically raining treats. And now, as I’m hoovering them up left, right and centre, I feel like the luckiest dog in the world.
Hold the bus. What is the man up to now? He seems to have snuck off down the hallway to hide behind that door. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is fooling, but it certainly isn’t me. His scent is dead obvious, and, besides that, I can literally hear the bag of dog treats rustling in his hand.
Suddenly, the guy jumps out playfully, mumbles something in my direction, then springs back behind the door. Does this human want to play? I think so, and judging by my thumping tail, it seems I want to play too. Off I go, top speed, bolting down the hall. But now, upon reaching the spot where I know he was hiding, the man is no longer here. His scent trail leads further into the room, but before I can follow my nose, something catches my ear in the opposite direction, so I turn around, and there he is, back at the other end of the hall.
How did he do that? I tilt my head. Is this guy some kind of magician?
The man strikes a sudden pose like a thief caught in the act, then he dashes off to his left. I give chase, turning a hard right at the end of the hallway to catch a glimpse of him going through a doorway to the side. Following suit, I come out onto a small balcony with a rug on the floor and two chairs squeezed in on the side. Going straight on, I come into another room, the same one as before, to see him hightailing it off to the right. I bolt across the room in hot pursuit, catch sight of him again at the end of the hallway and promptly hit the brakes. The man and I are back to where we started, facing each other from either end of the hall. Only, this time, it seems the playful human wants to do the chasing because he’s facing me with his arms out wide, and he’s doing his best at a growl.
Oh no! The human is going to eat me, I pretend. I want to tuck my tail in for dramatic effect, but it insists on wagging briskly to the right.
The standoff is tremendously intense before the human makes his move. And now, here he comes, charging down the hallway, ready to catch me for his supper. I bolt off in the opposite direction, across the balcony, through the kitchen and back into the hall. Round and round his flat we go until he’s in front of me again, and I am back to chasing him.
This human is a barrel of fun, and eventually, the chasing game descends into a playfight on the floor. And this guy is a wily fellow, I’ll give him that. It’s not every day that a man bites your leg. But now, in doing so, he’s left his neck exposed, so I lunge and find my muzzle there to slobber and snuffle and nibble. The man creases up into a ball on the floor, clearly ticklish as hell. I don’t mean to blow my own trumpet here, but it is clear that I am the winner.
This is fun! I step back and then pounce forward again. The man laughs and mumbles as he rises to his feet. And, just as I think that he’s run out of steam, he fake-throws an invisible dog treat over my head and runs the other way. His trick catches me out for a couple of seconds before I realise what he has done. But now, instead of chasing after him through the balcony, I run off down the hall.
My plan to cut him off from the opposite direction works a little too well when, as I turn left into the living room, I see him coming, but the big goof is looking back over his shoulder, and we crash into each other. I yelp as we collide and then get trampled to the floor. The man, for all his height and upright running style, hits the floor a moment later.
“Hey, Mister. Are you alright?” I say, getting up and hurrying over to lick him in the face.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” the man says, shooing me away. “If you’ll just give me a millimetre of space, I should be able to.” The man stops mid-sentence, his eyes open wide with panic, before he quickly sits up straight. “Did you just talk?”
“I think I did,” I say, stepping back in pure surprise. “Hey! I can speak now, and I can understand you too. Say something else.”
The man sits gawking at me with his mouth hanging open, slowly shaking his head.
“Hello? Are you sure you’re alright there, Mister?” I say, when he doesn’t reply. “Maybe you have a concussion from knocking your head on the floor.”
“I’m fine,” he says, the colour drained from his face. “I just–”
“Never thought you’d be having a conversation with a dog?”
“Exactly,” he says, perking up. “Since when can you speak?”
“Since we crashed, apparently. Before that, I only understood a few basic commands, and everything else was mumbo jumbo. Then, we crashed into each other and, well, here we are. My name is Good Boy, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Your name is not Good Boy,” the man chuckles. “It’s Churro.”
“What? Are you sure? Because my master calls me Good Boy all the time.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he says. “It is literally engraved in the tag on your collar.”
“Well, I never,” I say, sitting down, then changing my mind and standing up again. “Churro,” I sound out the word. My master says it often, but I had always thought it meant for me to come.
“I’m John,” says the man. “John Human.”
“John Human?” I snort. “That sounds like a made-up name.”
“All names were made up at some point,” he says, slowly hoisting himself up to his feet. “Besides, at least I’m not named after a pastry dessert.”
“What?”
The man nods with a grin. “Moreish little things sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.”
“Wow,” I step back in shock. “What was my master thinking? And where is the big guy, anyway?”
“Oh, he just nipped out to grab some beers. He should be back any minute.”
“So, he’s definitely coming back?”
“He’s definitely coming back,” he smiles. “And I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realises you can talk. It’s going to blow his mind wide open. Come to think of it,” the man’s eyes light up. “I should film his reaction and post it online. A video like that could go viral.”
Suddenly, my ears prick at the sound of knocking on the door and, filled with pure excitement to see my master again, I side-step John Human and sprint down the hall. A little too quickly, as it happens, and without leaving enough braking distance, so I crash into the door. It’s nothing, just a little bump to the head. The most important thing is that my master has returned, so I scramble to all fours.
Master! I bark and scratch at the door.
I turn to see what is taking Mr Human so long, and here he comes, holding up his phone with a big smirk on his face.
Hey, Mister, I want to say, you’re going to want to put that thing down, because I have got some absolutely extraordinary news.
But it just comes out as barking.
Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.
The door swings open, and there he is, looking down at me with that face. That face that means everything.
I leap up.
Good boy, he says.
And you know what? He’s not wrong.
The Cabinet of Heed 