Chapter 5
*~* Barbara *~*
Icould kill Breaker with his interfering ways.
Why couldn’t he just leave things well alone?
Save Cannon a journey indeed. I had been looking forward to that drive home all day and had even made a surprise meal, granted only takeout, for when we got to mine.
Cannon was already halfway caught, hook, line and sinker until that dumb fuck Breaker stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.
I need to watch my language, but I get so frustrated.
“AAAARRRGGGHHH!” That felt good. Now I’ve got to come up with another plan to catch my man.
Oh yes. He’s the man for me. I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on him.
It would have been easier if he’d just accepted his fate, but being a man, of course, he couldn’t just see what was in front of him and accept it.
Oh, no. Nothing could be that simple, could it!
I need a new battle plan. I lost that fight, but the war isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot, it isn’t. Sitting at my kitchen table nursing an iced tea, though God knows why, as I have a lovely, comfortable couch and yet spend most of my time at this damned table, I try to arrange my thoughts.
I could invite him on a date. Nah. Too old-school and open to refusal.
I could just tell him how it is and give him no option but to take me on.
Take me on? What am I, a stray dog? No, that’s definitely off the table.
A blind date, that might work. Oh, how do I invite him on a blind date? No, dates are out. Any kind of date.
I can’t get him around here to fix my plumbing, as much as I’d like to see his plunger!
He’s not part of construction or any of those trades.
So, he’s the manager at the pet crematorium.
I need to get a pet so it can die, and I can use the crem’s services.
A dog can live for years, so can a cat, and I don’t want to wait that long.
I am not going to kill anything just so I can use its dead body.
I haven’t sunk that low, yet. Yet? What am I saying?
So I need a pet with a very short lifespan but big enough to be able to have it cremated.
It takes only ten minutes on Google, and that plan is out the window.
Even rats and mice live over a year, and I’m not that patient.
How do I even go to a crematorium and ask for a rat to be cremated?
A chameleon lasts four to five months, but again, would it be big enough to warrant cremation?
In four or five months he could have found someone else.
No, it has to be something a damn sight faster than that.
Okay, back to the dating thing. Are there any dances coming up?
Dances? How old-fashioned am I? Ugh. If I’m going to get anywhere with this, I might have to get some help.
I’m not much use at this kind of thing, and let’s be honest, I’m not inundated with offers of courtship, or even a quick fuck for that matter.
Not that I’m that kind of girl, but an occasional offer might do my ego a bit of good.
Showered, dressed, and ready for work, I’m back at the table, this time with my second coffee of the day.
Apart from a hot dream about my favorite biker, which involved a shower, too, I’m no closer to coming up with a plan.
Banging on my kitchen door has me almost wearing my coffee.
Opening it, I find my neighbor, Jeannie, sobbing her heart out.
“He’s dead, Babs. He’s dead.” Sob. “ After all these years together, he’s died on me.” More sobs. “ What am I going to do without him? He’s been my only one since school. I’ve never had another. What am I going to do?” Even more tears and more sobs.
“What happened? I mean, how?” Christ in a cradle. She’s only in her mid-thirties, and her husband, Matt, can’t have been forty yet.
“He’s been a bit slower the past couple of years, but I thought that was just natural. Not as full of ‘get up and go’ as he was, but that’s normal, isn’t it?” Sob some more. I stand with her in my kitchen, my arm around her shoulders, trying to show some moral support.
“I don’t have much experience to call on, Jeannie, I’m sorry.” What else can I say? I’ve never had a man around the house, let alone a husband.
“I tried giving him some pills in his dinner. He won’t take medication for any reason, you see, so I had to trick him into taking it.
They worked for a little while, but I think his body just got used to them, and that was that again.
Back to being Mr. Floppy and he’d just stay all lethargic and lazy, not getting up for days.
” Sob, sob. I don’t think I’d make a good counselor or support worker because all these tears are starting to get on my nerves.
“Are you sure you should have been giving him meds in his food without his knowledge? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Oh no. I sought proper medical advice first. They said it was that, or I had to force it down his throat. I couldn’t get him to open his mouth, though I tried.
I sat on him and forced his teeth apart, threw the pills in, but the bastard just spat them back at me.
Fooling him with his food was the only way they said.
” She seems to perk up a bit at this, thank God, I think.
“So, what happened? How did he die in the end?” I’m going to regret asking that, I think to myself.
“I blame myself. I couldn’t bear to see him all limp like that, so I made him get up and took him in the garden.
I think I overdid it because he just gave a little gasp and that was that.
He just went. I killed him, Babs.” I wish she wouldn’t call me that.
I hate it and I’ve asked so many times for her to call me Barbara.
“Well, where is he now? You haven’t left him in the garden, have you?” I don’t want to walk out there and see Mr. Floppy in all his glory, thank you very much.
“Oh heavens no, I couldn’t do that. I dragged him inside and put him in his bed.
I struggled, though. I didn’t know he was so heavy.
I suppose that’s what they mean by dead weight, is it?
” She looks at me so earnestly, and all I want to do is burst out laughing.
Deadweight! Though I’m sure she’s correct as to where the term comes from.
“Have you called the police and told them, or an ambulance at least?” I ask, but I’m fearful of the answer.
“I haven’t told anyone yet, just you. I came around as soon as it happened and I had him back inside. Do I really need to tell the police?”
“Well, yes. Someone's going to come looking for him at some point, don’t you think?” I point out, rather obviously, I thought.
”But who? He doesn’t have any friends and never goes anywhere.
Except when he comes to see you for the odd treat, of course.
That’s why I had the fence raised, so he couldn’t stand out there and watch you all the time.
I think he preferred you to me sometimes.
” She actually smiles at me, as though this was all perfectly normal.
“I didn’t know he did that! I would have been a bit more discreet about how I walked about sometimes, had I known anyone was watching.”
“Oh, he didn’t mind stuff like that. You were fine.” She gives me another smile, and before I can respond, I almost faint when her husband walks through the door, larger than life.
“Oh, she’s already told you then? I didn’t think she’d be long telling you.” He looks at me and I think his eyes look swollen, blurry, and moist.
“Erm, I’m not too sure what she’s just told me now that you’re here, in the flesh, as it were.” I let Jeannie go and take a seat at the table before I pass out.
“Whisky dropped dead in the garden. I told her not to stress him out and let him go in peace, but no, she had to try to push him too hard. She’ll be the death of me like that, one day, I swear.”
“Well, Matt, I’m sure you’ll recognize the signs when she sits on you and tries to shove pills down your throat so you’re no longer Mr. Floppy!” I can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over me, followed by a lightbulb moment.
“What are you guys going to do with Whisky now?” I must sound so creepy when I ask that, as they both look at me like I’m some kind of degenerate weirdo.
“I’ll bury him in the garden, I guess. Why do you ask?” Matt looks very suspicious.
“Well, I’ve got a friend who owns a pet crem and they haven’t been open long.
I wondered if you’d let me get Whisky cremated.
It would be good practice for my friend, and it would be better to have a small casket of ashes buried in the garden rather than an actual decomposing dog’s body.
What do you say? It will be a proper service and everything.
You could attend if you’d like? I’ll cover any costs involved.
” I have to rein myself in here because I could sound too keen to burn their dog.
“Ooh, yes. Let’s do that.” Jeannie perks right up at the mention of me paying for the dog's cremation.
“We could have a proper, full-on funeral for him and have snacks and drinks.
Maybe do a wake-up-type of thing. People could bring their pets, and we could hand out business cards for your friends' auditorium.”
“Crematorium, Jeannie. Not auditorium. And it’s a wake, not a wake-up.” I can see this being fun. I wonder what the invitations will look like!
“I’m sure they are very similar. Come on, Matt. We have a wake to arrange. When do you want to pick up the star of the show, Babs?”
“Hang on to him for now and I’ll call later to arrange collection. How’s that?” I give her a smile, but I’m sure it must look like a grimace as Matt gives me an odd look in return.
Now running late, I drive like I’m on a NASCAR track to get to work. How I don’t get involved in a traffic stop, I don’t know, but thankfully I arrive just before my shift is due to start. Molly is hovering in the reception area as I dash inside, panting and flustered.
“Barbara! What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“Sorry I’m late, Molly. Minor crisis with one of my neighbors this morning.
Her dog passed away, and she came around to share the sad news.
” Taking a deep breath, I continue, “If it’s okay with you, I need to nip over to the Pet Crematorium during my lunch break to speak to Cannon.
I’ve offered to cover the cost of the cremation, and they are going to have a pet wake for their beloved Whisky. ”
“Go now, Barbara. I can cover the reception until you get back. Go on, it’s fine.
” Molly slips into the receptionist's chair, and I feel a pang of guilt. I haven’t lied or been deceitful, but I don’t feel I’ve been one hundred percent upfront either with my secret agenda.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind? I’ll call and pick up the carcass, erm, I mean body, on the way.
” Don’t want Mr. Floppy to get stiff with rigor mortis before I have to handle him, I think to myself.
Stopping by Jeannie’s, Matt put Mr. Floppy, I mean Whisky, into my trunk all wrapped up in his favorite blanket.
Driving at every speed limit and being overcautious at every junction, I finally make it to the pet crem.
I give myself a thorough checking over before I head to their reception area and my unannounced date with my hunk of a man, Cannon.
Walking through the main doors, I’m surprised by how pleasant it all looks. Not that I really knew what to expect, but by association I was expecting a crematorium to be a dismal place. A door opens and I steel myself as I wait for my man to appear.
“Hi. How may I be of service today?” He asks, and I’m running through ways that he can service me when I realize it’s Prophet and not Cannon standing there.
“I was hoping to speak to Cannon about having a dog cremated.”
“Unfortunately, Cannon won’t be in until lunchtime. He has other commitments this morning. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” Prophet smiles, and I don’t think he recognizes me.
We have only met in passing, so I’m not surprised. I don’t know everyone at the club by name, or even by sight. Without their cuts, I probably wouldn’t know half of the guys there.
“I’ll call back later, thanks, but could I leave my dog here? I don’t really want to drive around with him stinking, I mean lying, in the trunk.”
“Of course. Give me a moment and I’ll get a gurney to put him on.” Once Prophet has Mr. Floppy, I mean Whisky, I have to stop thinking of him like that, on the gurney, I thank him and head back to the practice.
Just my luck. I must have killed a robin, or broken a mirror, or walked under a ladder, or any one of the many things that bring bad luck.
He had to be off doing something else this morning of all days.
I’m beginning to think there may be a higher power at work here trying to spoil my happy ever after!