The Dog’s Boy

The boy had a dog. Except, I believe it may be more fitting to say the dog had a boy.

10/05/2001

A meadow. Dennis lounges in the clearing, tossing his ball. Up. And down. Up. And down. He watches Poppy as she bounds through the vegetation, enamoured with the plethora of scents and colours. He hurls the ball across the field. It soars for miles, Poppy in close pursuit. She is swallowed by the greenery. When she emerges, a triumphant grin spans her face. Poppy drops the slobbery ball at his feet, collapsing into the grass. As she basks in the mid-afternoon sun, Dennis admires the palpable atmosphere of serenity.

21/07/2003

A tiered cake covered in Marzipan lilies. Guests pause to marvel at the craftsmanship. They come bearing presents, piles upon piles, until there isn’t an inch of space left on the dining table. Dennis loses count of the number of birthday wishes he receives, and the overwhelmed thanks he gives. Beneath the table, Poppy’s head is resting on his knee. It’s grounding. Off-tune singing ensues, and everybody applauds. Dennis lifts Poppy and they blow out the candles together.

04/11/2005

A dripping tap. Dennis grabs a beer before collapsing into his tattered sofa, threadbare at the corners. Exhaustion is etched on his face. Poppy settles by his feet. She sniffs his left hand, limp by his side. Drip. Drip. Drip. Dennis can feel his fuse shortening with every godforsaken droplet that leaks from that tap. If only he could fix it, and he could enjoy his evenings with Poppy in silence once more. Only the sound of their breathing to be heard. He entertains the thought, but only for a moment. He knows his pockets may as well have holes in them. Poppy leaps into Dennis’ lap, nestling into his chest. She’s too big for this now, but neither of them mind.

09/01/2006

A seagull overhead. Fine grains of warm sand seep between Dennis’ toes. He can taste the salty air, hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Poppy is at his heels, panting as they stroll. The minute the ocean is within their line of sight, Poppy is off. Dennis takes off after her. He feels like a bird, wind beneath his wings. There’s no high better than this. He doesn’t slow when he reaches the water, submerging himself up to shoulders. Poppy paddles towards him, accidentally splashing the cold seawater in his face. It’s worth it to see her like this.

11/12/2008

A jolly man in a blue shirt. Poppy sniffs his shoes. Dennis runs his hand over the red leather, admiring its sheen. Not a single seam or thread out of place. It’s not long before Poppy takes her place on the recliner, curling into a ball.

“We’ll take it,” he says.

15/12/2008

A monotonous sitcom. Every episode has the same plot, but Poppy and Dennis watch them religiously regardless. It’s their routine. Each week, when he comes home, she springs from her favourite spot in the red recliner to greet him. There’s a permanent Poppy-shaped indent in the seat now. Dennis thinks it was the best purchase of his life. After she greets him and he prepares a snack, they sit and watch sitcoms together. All evening. With Poppy, loneliness is truly unfathomable. He sneaks her pieces of sausage every few minutes, much to her pleasure. Tonight is no different, although Dennis swears the plot is worse than usual.

12/04/2010

A laboured breath. Dennis can see Poppy’s stomach rise and fall at increasing intervals in his rear-view mirror. She releases a pained whine, and he feels his heart twinge. He doesn’t want to leave the car. He’s afraid of what it might mean. Reluctantly he does, lifting Poppy from the backseat as if she were a feather. Inside the vet, the heater is broken. Dennis can barely feel his fingertips. He takes off his woollen jacket to wrap it around Poppy’s shivering body. When the vet comes to take her from him, he almost refuses to let go. Dennis returns to his seat to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He estimates that he and Poppy could watch two whole episodes of their sitcom in the time it takes for the vet to come back out. When she does, she has that look in her eye. And he just knows. He just knows, and it breaks him.

The vet takes him to the back room, where Poppy is laid under a harsh, industrial light. Her face is completely devoid of the smile he’s so accustomed to. Dennis wonders if the pain of being penetrated by a thousand tiny shards of glass would even come close to what he’s feeling. He zones in and out as the vet tells him the options. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail. Dennis is frozen. He asks what the vet recommends, even though he already knows the answer. When she answers, he wants to clamp his hands over his ears like a kid and pretend he hasn’t heard her.

“Will she feel any pain?”

The mere idea shattered his heart. Of never being able to watch another sitcom together. Of never running along another beach together. Of having to blow out birthday candles on his own. He was losing his best mate. Dennis approached Poppy and held her in his arms. He could feel the tiredness in her limbs. He looked at her, and she looked at him. There was mutual understanding.

13/04/2010

An empty recliner. Dennis waits for Poppy to jump up from her seat and ambush him in the doorway. He closes his eyes. If he waits long enough, wishes hard enough, maybe, just maybe, she’ll be there when he opens his eyes. He’ll hear her whines of excitement, and he’ll wrap his arms around her. This time, he’ll hold on a little tighter.

So, the dog had a boy. And without her, the world was a little less bright.

By Mia Lowe (Year 11)

Ocean

Smooth, blue

Gentle, slow, bright Sun shining on the tide

Waves crashing on the smooth yellow sand Beauty

By Caleb Carruthers (Year 7)

Poison

Poison

Taking over.

Can’t breathe, falling, falling Running all through me, Shutting down Now, Gone.

By Mia Stoyanov (Year 7)

Waves

Crashing...

Advancing waves

Soft white frothy wonder Curious, entrancing, then Gentle

By Shola Adeniyi (Year 7)