Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
C ole
I’m happy to see that the dog is eager to eat the scrambled egg, and finishes the bowl completely. I take it and rinse it before bringing him back some water, which he also drinks. Johan is sitting on the floor next to the dog. He reaches out a hand and gives him a stroke.
“Good boy, good Roffe.”
“Roffe? You named him?”
Johan looks up at me from the floor. “He has to have a name. We can’t keep calling him ‘little dog’, and we don’t know what he was called before, or if he even had a name.”
I agree, we can’t keep calling him dog, though I hadn’t given much thought to it, There might still be a chance he could be claimed, or that I need to find him a home. It’s dangerous to get attached.
“I agree that we can’t call him ‘dog’, and he does have to have a name, it’s just…”
“What?” Johan says sharply, and I take a breath.
“Look, there is still a chance that he could be claimed and then if not, I have to find a home for him. It doesn’t do to get attached.”
“I know that.” Johan’s voice is a low hiss. “But until then I’m calling him Roffe.”
I hold up my hands. “Okay, Roffe it is. What does it mean anyway?”
Johan drops his eyes to the dog and he gives him a stroke before answering softly, “Legendary Wolf.”
I emit a huff of laughter, but before Johan can respond I say, “It suits him. Roffe it is then.”
Johan unfolds himself and stands. “Can we give him a bath now?”
“We can.” I answer, but for a moment I can’t think where. I don’t want to take him into my apartment until he’s somewhat cleaner. If Vin gets really filthy or has rolled in something unpleasant I hose him down in the yard. The surgery building has a sink but it’s not big enough to bathe a dog. Luckily ours is an old farm and out the back of the main farmhouse is an old scullery. It’s where Mum keeps the corn for the hens, stores the vegetables that need to keep cool, and apples over winter. But it has a large stone sink, easily large enough to fit Roffe.
But she isn’t too happy about me using it, especially to clean a very dirty dog.
“We need to be quiet.”
Johan looks at me, slightly puzzled, but I just say, “Bring Roffe and don’t make a sound.”
I lead him round the side of the house and peek over at the scullery, which is apart from the main building. I can’t see Mum around. She’s probably in the kitchen, so I sneak forward and peer through the window. She is in the kitchen, and luckily, is turned away from the window, so I grab Johan and drag him over to the scullery. I bundle him in through the door and shut it behind us. A memory surfaces of the occasional times Tom used to try and involve me in his mischief. I used to resist back then, and he called me out as boring. Maybe I was.
“What’s going on?” Johan asks as soon as the door is shut.
“It’s the only place that has a sink big enough, and I don’t want to use one of the bathrooms in case he has fleas. But Mum might not be pleased about this being used for dog bathing either, so we need to be quiet and she’ll never know.”
He gives me an amused grin but doesn’t say anything. I clear the few containers from around the sink and start to run some warm water. I’d snagged a bottle of biological wash from the surgery on my way out. It’s the best thing to clean him with first as it’ll help if he has any skin conditions or unwanted visitors.
Once there is a sink full of warm, soapy water, I gesture to Johan to place him in. He’s very gentle, and Roffe doesn’t seem to mind. I grab one of the pots I had moved earlier, fill it with the soapy water, and pour it over his back to wet his fur. I show Johan how to cup a bit of water in his hands, run it down the dog’s fur, and when he’s wet, gently massage the soap into his skin. Then I stand back and let him do it, as there isn’t much room for the both of us to stand there. When his body is soapy I instruct Johan how to do his face and ears, without it getting into his eyes.
Suddenly Roffe shakes himself and foam goes everywhere.
“Whoops,” exclaims Johan, as I look round at soapy water dripping off everything. Then Johan starts laughing.
“I don’t think it’s funny.” I’m getting annoyed. But he won’t stop laughing. “What is it?”
“You have foam on your nose and in your hair.” I reach up and feel my nose. How dare he laugh at me. I scoop up a pile of foam and reach out.
“Well, now you have foam in your beard.” But he just laughs even louder.
I catch myself laughing at him and he scoops up some foam and wipes it on my face. “And now you have a foam beard.”
I reach for some more foam and throw it at him. It hits the side of his cheek and slides down his face.” I laugh even harder. But when I see him grabbing another handful of foam, I duck. I hear the door open and we both spin round to see the foam hit Mum square in the face.
She stands there for a moment wiping her face with her hand to remove the soap.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Walker,” Johan starts, but she holds up her hand and he stops speaking. She looks from me to Johan and back again.
“I was coming to see what the noise was, expecting to find Alice and Sarah in here up to no good, as Megan and Tom arrived a little while ago. I did not expect to find two grown…” Whatever she was about to say died on her lips, then she speaks again. “Who is this little fella, then?” She’s caught sight of Roffe.
“Is this the one you found?” She addresses Johan.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We needed to give him a bath, he was very dirty,” I try to explain. She makes her way across the room and looks fondly at Roffe.
“So you thought you’d use my scullery.” It isn’t a question.
She looks between us again.
“Well, get him rinsed off and then bring him into the kitchen. I’ll look after him while you, both of you, clean this mess up.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nobody disobeys my mother. She nods and heads back across the room, then pauses at the door.
“I’ll be back in a minute with a towel. And Johan, you will stay for dinner later.”
I see Johan open his mouth in protest, but then he simply replies with, “Yes, ma’am.” Like I say, no-one disobeys my mother.
By the time she’s brought a towel, we have rinsed Roffe off. Johan wraps him in the towel, and after giving him a gentle rub, carries him into the kitchen where my mother has placed some blankets in front of the range where it’s warm. Although my parents don’t have any dogs themselves at the moment, we’ve grown up around dogs and there are still some old dog beds stored away somewhere. Mum instructs Tom to go find one, and he returns shortly and places it in front of the range. We place the blankets in and Roffe settles in there quite happily. Now that he’s cleaner, he’s a very attractive blue merle colour with some white patches. He isn’t smooth coated, more wire haired, not quite scruffy, but not as soft as Vin’s coat. He doesn’t look bothered by all the attention and before long we are shooed out of the kitchen to go and clean the scullery.
“Are we in trouble?” Johan asks as he wipes down the surfaces where foam still lingers, whilst I clean the sink.
“No. We didn’t break anything, so cleaning up will be our punishment.”
“But I threw foam at your mum,” Johan winces.
“Oh, she’s had worse,” I counter. “And anyway, you started it.”
“I did not,” he retorts. “You wiped foam on me.”
“Well, you started laughing at me.”
“But you looked funny, with the foam on your nose. It was cute.” He stops speaking and stares at me, a wary look on his face, then he turns and goes back to wiping down the surfaces. I don’t know what happened. I mentally sift through. He had called me cute. Dogs and animals are cute, but not people. Are they? Why would he call me that? I don’t mind, I suppose, except he now seems bothered he said it. And I don’t like that he isn’t speaking any more.
“Anyway, if we were in trouble, she wouldn’t have made you stay for dinner.” I don’t say invite, as that definitely wasn’t an invite.
So for a second time, Johan comes to Sunday family dinner and I find myself not as bothered by this as I was last time.
By the time we’ve finished cleaning the scullery, and it’s been inspected and approved by Mum, everything is ready for us to sit down and eat.
Johan is bombarded with questions about the dog by Tom, Megan and my nieces, and when they’ve exhausted those subjects, Tom and my father start talking about what work needs doing this week on the farm. That’s when I remember that Johan is going to start helping them tomorrow. I’m quite happy to let the talk carry on around me. I don’t feel the need to speak, and at the same time, don’t feel that the conversation might turn to me and I would need to take part. I’m actually enjoying it, which I don’t normally do if it isn’t just the family.
Later, when I carry through some plates to the kitchen, ready to take the coffee and tea pots back through, Tom follows me.
‘You seem okay,” he states, rather than asks.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply, and I honestly am.
Tom doesn’t say anything, he just gives my a shoulder a squeeze as he walks past.
After our dinner, we offer Roffe some more food, this time some leftover chicken and vegetables from the Sunday roast. He wolfs that down and we take him and Vin for a walk. Just a short one round the paddocks; he can’t go for longer walks until he’s stronger. Then we put Roffe back into the surgery kennels for the night. I explain that, as he could still be claimed, he needs to stay in the surgery for a while, and then he’ll be up for adoption, so we don’t know what will happen. Johan looks reluctant but agrees.
“I just don’t like him being alone.”
I understand what he means, but I try to explain that, in the long run, it is for the best.
When he goes into the surgery, the jumper he had used as a bed for Roffe is folded neatly on the table. He looks puzzled.
“I bet my mum picked it up and cleaned it,” I explain. It would be the sort of thing she’d do.
“She’s an amazing woman, but…” He takes off the jumper he’s been wearing all day and places it in the cage for Roffe. “It won’t smell right for Roffe.” With one last stroke and a few murmured words, he lifts Roffe into the cage.
“He’ll be fine.” I say. “I’ll take him out last time.”
“Will you let me know he’s okay?” he asks, and I agree.
That evening, before I check on Roffe and take him out for a last pee, I upload his details onto the National Lost Dog database. I have a duty to. If anyone is looking for him, they’ll find him there.
I text Johan.
Cole - Roffe is fine, all settled for the night.
Johan - Glad to hear that thanks. I am missing him.
Cole - He is missing you too.
I don’t add that, in a way, I’m missing him, too. I haven’t felt awkward with Johan, the way I usually do with people. I don’t know why. Maybe because I wasn’t forced to talk about stuff I didn’t know. He is easy to be around. I’ve enjoyed hanging out with him today. Maybe we could be friends. I’d like that.