Southend U3A

May 2023

Friend Or Foe - Pete Norman

Penny was a beautiful dog. The RSPCA kennels had said that she was ‘mostly’ a Labrador but they were unsure what the other bit might be. However, none of this mattered to Marion, because she was absolute perfection. Even from an early age she was not destructive, she was house-trained and she ate virtually anything she was offered. Most of all she was loving and affectionate; she would beg for cuddles and was the best friend Marion had ever had. Without Penny she would have vegetated, alone and miserable, within these four walls.

When Penny had first entered her life, she was a bouncy, excitable little thing, just out of puppyhood and she was all set to be a friend for life, a companion in her old age but, sadly, a dog’s life expectancy usually falls well short of our own and, as old age had crept upon her, it brought with it a series of nasty ailments, each one more pernicious than the one before. In the end it had been an act of mercy to bring an end to her suffering . . . but her loss left a huge hole in Marion’s life.

Within a few days she found herself parking outside the RSPCA kennels. She took a deep breath; she wanted this desperately; it was a milestone in her life but equally she was also dreading it. However, she bravely pushed on through the door and past the sign which read encouragingly, ‘Man’s best friend.’

As she approached the desk, she was mentally correcting the words to read, ‘man and woman’s best friend’. She explained that she was last here 10 years ago and the lady spent a few moments flicking through the computer. ‘Ah, yes, I’ve got it,’ she said, ‘it was Penny, wasn’t it? a Labrador . . .’

She hesitated for a moment and Marion added, ‘She was, apparently, ‘mostly’ a Labrador.’

The lady laughed but then she saw the sadness in Marion’s eyes. ‘Can I take it that you are now looking for a replacement?’ Receiving a quick nod she added, ‘I’ll call someone to help you, then.’

A few minutes later Donald appeared. He was in his late teens and somewhat emaciated, with an untidy shock of ginger hair but his smile was warm enough and, as they walked along the long rows of cages, he questioned her in depth about the dogs that she had owned in the past and the breed that she was seeking now. When she said, ‘Labrador,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that Labs are always in great demand here, Labs and anything with ‘apoo’ in its name.’ He stopped at a large cage with a rather small and scruffy Jack Russell asleep in the far corner. He smiled. ‘Now, Jack Russell’s are terrific little dogs; they’re faithful, they’re really friendly – in fact, they’re very much a one-man dog – but, sadly, they are much less popular than the more faddy ones.’

Marion was studying the dog carefully. He might have looked to be almost asleep but his eyes were clearly watching her intently. She tried to encourage the dog to come to her but nothing she could do would persuade him to move an inch.

‘He doesn’t seem very friendly,’ she said.

Donald shrugged, ‘It sometimes takes a little time to really gel with a new dog. You have to be patient.’

Marion was not convinced. Standing here in much the same place, all those years ago, she could vividly remember little Penny trying to claw her way through the bars to get to her and now, her heart was really seeking a like for like replacement.

However, Donald was extremely persistent. He regaled her enthusiastically with the history of Oliver and his past owner – who was, apparently, a lovely old lady – but who, sadly, was no longer with us.

Marion was still not convinced and asked to look at some more animals but Donald dug in. ‘You see, Oliver has been with us some time and . . . and if he is not homed soon then we will . . . we will have to let him go.’ The words were loaded with such finality and she could imagine, quite vividly, what ‘letting him go’ would entail.

She looked back at Oliver, who was clearly not the most affectionate animal in the world, in fact, he looked totally disinterested in the whole proceedings but she felt so sorry for the tiny, vulnerable little thing that she could feel herself being swayed, somewhat against her better judgement, in his favour.

Donald was fighting hard for a deal and he said, ‘How’s about I sort you out a nice coffee so that you can have a little more time to make your mind up?’

Marion gratefully accepted the offer and, half an hour later she was a little surprised to find herself agreeing to take him. As they sorted out the paperwork, Donald apologised for putting pressure on her but he said that he had a soft spot for the little bugger and that he wanted him to go to a good home. He gave her a small business card, on which was written: ‘MALCOLM COOPER. DOG TRAINING CLASSES.’

He said, ‘He’s a good mate and he don’t charge a lot and he really is brilliant. This training will help you to bond with Oliver.’

As a parting gesture he said, ‘Look, I’m sorry, I’ve really pushed you about this. If you can’t get on with him then bring him back and we’ll fully refund you.’

Marion was sure that would not be necessary but she thanked him for the thought.

They went back to the cage and she fitted the harness on Oliver and walked him to the car. As she put him onto the back seat she whispered, ‘You, Sonny Jim, are going to boot camp.’

Oliver gave a soft growl in return – not a very good first impression. Marion looked him in the eye. ‘Little man, are you really woman’s best friend? Are you going to be my friend . . . or foe?’

She got no response.

The drive back home took a little over half an hour and, in that time, she didn’t hear a peep from the dog. When she opened the car door, he was laying in much the same pose as he had in the kennels. Marion thought it might be a good idea to walk him round the block first and show him what his new home turf looked like.

Oliver showed no excitement whatsoever at the prospect of a walk. He really was a dog with attitude. She even allowed herself to think that if she was just to unleash him, then she could perhaps wait for him to have his walk in his own time and in his own way – but then she laughed – he doesn’t even know where to come home to yet – if he even cares.

She set off with a reluctant dog in tow. It had been Penny’s favourite walk, around the block and back through a small park, which had loads of space to run and which was full of delicious doggy smells. Oliver actually became more animated in the park and she would have loved to give him his freedom to enjoy himself but that would have to be put on hold until after boot camp.

They had just emerged from the park back out onto the pavement when she heard footsteps fast approaching from behind her. She turned around. He looked like your worst nightmare: young but tall and very well built. His hair was cropped short and his leather jacket was well worn. The smile on his face was completely devoid of humour.

She froze.

He grabbed hold of her handbag and shoved her violently away.

She held onto the strap for dear life and screamed out in terror.

The youth screamed out in pain.

She looked down and saw that Oliver had sunk his teeth into his calf and, no matter how the youth tried, he could not shake the dog off. In desperation he kicked out with his other foot and the sound of boot hitting dog and the scream of pain from Oliver was terrifying.

Marion threw herself at him, screaming and punching but suddenly she felt strong arms pulling her off. She snarled and spun around but the face before her was no threat to her. The man’s police uniform was barely concealed by his coat.

The officer said, ‘Hi, Eddie. Up to your old tricks again?’

Eddie pointed at Oliver. ‘You wanna get that brute put down – the bastard attacked me.’

The policeman grinned. ‘That ain’t what the witness says.’

‘What witness?’

‘That witness is me, Eddie. I saw the whole thing – and you’re nicked.’

‘What for?’

‘Well, let’s start with robbery and assault and cruelty to animals and then see how far we go.’

Eddie went silent. The policeman added, ‘You don’t have to say anything . . . but then you’ve heard all that before, haven’t you? so I won’t waste my time.’

He made a quick phone call and a few minutes later a marked police car pulled up.

The officer said, ‘I shall need a statement from you but we can sort that out later.’ He looked down at the dog who was curled up in pain and breathing heavily. ‘In the meantime, we need to get this brave boy looked at.’

Marion carried Oliver back to her car and, in a few minutes, he was on the vet’s table. The vet was very thorough and concluded that there was nothing major wrong but he gave him a ‘belt & braces’ injection before he left.

Back in the sanctuary of her home once more, Marion hung up her coat and made a strong coffee. When she sank into her chair, Oliver struggled to climb up to her and then snuggled down in her lap as if he had always been there.

Marion stroked him and whispered, ‘Hello, my brave-new friend.’