Good morning, sweethearts!
Mrs. Cleyton woke to the sound of her dogs.
Despite the drowsiness from a short night’s sleep, the new day invigorated her as she stepped out of bed.
Whoo-ya!
A jolt of pain shot through her knees as she stood up and they had to support her weight. It didn’t matter; she had grown accustomed to the feeling and it would not break her sense of purpose.
It was her dogs that gave her strength. Two beautiful dogs, the sight of which would illuminate her heart, one day at a time.
Every day at 6:30 a.m., they barked for food. She would get dressed and she provided for them. It was all a part of a ritual, her ritual, and it had quite literally saved her life.
She opened the cabinet and stepped out of her nightgown.
Today is purple, she decided. Purple and white.
She fastened her bra, then grabbed her skirt, more pale than purple, and matched it with one of her white shirts. It had a slight hint of yellow to it, most likely from washing too many times. Her outfit contrasted with the increasing strands of silvery grey that popped up in her stringy dark blonde hair. With a single motion she tied it together in a ponytail.
She refreshed herself using the little basin in her bedroom and finally put on her glasses. They had a coppery frame that was large enough to reach halfway down her nose.
She walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room.
Her smile broadened at the sight of her dogs.
Dave and Ness greeted her with wagging tails and followed her into the open kitchen, where she grabbed a large bag of Canine Supreme. It was the second last and it was almost finished, which reminded her to buy more when she would pop out for groceries next Tuesday.
Her knees protested again as she bent to empty the bag of food in the two big bowls that stood next to the benchtop. Undeterred, she patted the hungry animals as they started their meal. For a second she watched her two children in peaceful appreciation.
Dave was a German shepherd, with his walnut brown fur, mixed with increasing strands of black towards his back. At eight years old, he was an adult dog now — and well into midlife crisis territory, if he were human — but he still featured soft, puppy-like eyes that made him look eternally grateful for the day that Mrs. Cleyton had adopted him from the shelter.
Not long after, she had started to volunteer at the shelter and, a few years later, she had adopted Ness as a puppy. He was a Great Dane of about four years old. His coat was black from head to toe, but with a bluish sheen, and he was still just as sweet at heart.
She admired them as they stood there, heads down in their bowls. They were careless and free. It was all she had ever wanted for her children.
Her stomach called.
With the dogs seen to, it was time for her own breakfast. She grabbed a small frying pan, lit the fire to it and cracked an egg, which she carefully spilled in the centre of the surface. She filled her kettle and used another burner to start boiling water. Next, she took a plate and placed two slices of bread on it. She picked up an orange, which she neatly sliced, then squeezed with her blender. A little bit of salt and pepper served to add flavour to her egg, before she slid the spatula underneath and placed it on the sandwiches.
Finally, she put a little bag of Earl Grey in a cup on a platter, and poured the hot water over. She blew away the vapour as it reached for her face, then removed the bag when she saw that the water matched the desired darkness. She added a cloud of milk for its creamy flavour.
With her breakfast and some cutlery on a tray, she walked back into the living room and sat back in her recliner, one of a pair. The other one was empty and stood next to the long couch in front of the opposing wall. The empty couch and recliner were a painful reminder of the family she used to have and no longer had. If she was not careful, she could still see her boys bouncing around on that couch: Nicholas in his favourite blue hoodie and John in his red sweater. An occasional baritone humming would sound from the recliner where her husband lay legs up, pretending to be annoyed by his sons.
She’d considered getting rid of the chairs, but the only thing that had held her back was the emptiness that would take their place. She imagined the bare white wall staring back at her. There was no way for her that she could think of to fill up that emptiness. Sometimes, she figured, it was better to hold onto a painful reminder than to replace it with something that could never live up to the memory.
She folded her hands and closed her eyes for a second for a short prayer. Then, she had a sip of her juice and used her fork to pin down the sandwich, while she cut straight through the still-soft yolk of the egg, letting it spill out and soak into the bread.
Thank you, Lord, for that which I am about to receive.
She had not been religious before the accident, but it was one of those things a woman was vulnerable to when she had nothing left in her life.
As she ate her breakfast, she looked through the glass doors into her garden. It consisted mostly of a well-cut field of grass that was mainly empty, save for a single large oak, wide enough to cast most of it in shadow. In the back, next to the wooden shed, there were two dog houses whose inhabitants were still picking the last few chunks from their bowls in the kitchen. The kennels were also cast in the shade of the giant oak, something for which her dogs displayed their gratitude in the season of summer as they lay panting with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. Her little island of tranquillity was enclosed, surrounded by tall hornbeam hedges that separated hers from that of her neighbours.
A good morning to you too!
A goldfinch jumped out of the shade and onto a patch of grass that was lit by the brightness of the sun. Spring had decisively made its entrance and as every year, Mrs. Cleyton had clutched at the opportunity to sprinkle some seeds and breadcrumbs in the back of her garden. Muted through the double glass, the little bird voiced its appreciation with its chittering song.
‘Don’t you worry, little one. You are safe here.’ The words sounded soothing despite their undertone. She knew it wasn’t the dogs that the goldfinch needed to fear. A far more sinister danger had stalked this very garden in days past.
‘You’re safe now.’
She finished her juice and her bread, as she used the last slices to clean off most of the remaining yolk, then she started to gracefully sip at her tea. On a regular Saturday, she didn’t volunteer to help at the shelter. But she went there anyway, except it would be at her own schedule and at her own convenience.
Ness, the bigger of her two dogs, joined her.
He laid his head sideways on the breakfast tray and used his tongue to clean off the remaining stripes of egg yolk from her plate in a single greedy, wet motion.
‘Sweet, hungry child,’ she said as she scratched the animal behind its ears. They were the type of table manners she would have never tolerated from her real sons, back in the day, but she had learned to be more forgiving over the years.
Mothers, too, grew in their profession.
She lifted her tray and stood up from the recliner. It was time to clean up her dishes, walk the dogs, and head for the shelter.
Perfectly on time!
It was 9:25 a.m. when Mrs. Cleyton drove her wagon onto the shelter’s estate. Thawton Centre for Animal Welfare was not like any other shelter; it was the largest animal shelter in the south of England. They offered shelter for hundreds of different species of animals, helped them to find new homes, provided training programmes for dogs and horses as well as extensive programmes to make sure sick and wounded animals could recover on site gracefully.
The centre was also open to the public, with walking routes specialised for dog owners and of course also those without, the latter circling around a large lake that served to host all various kinds of wildlife. They had a little cafeteria and a gift shop that served to support the organisation. In many ways, it was practically a zoo, and it was all run by a non-profit — a charity that thrived on donations and volunteers such as Mrs. Cleyton herself.
‘Out you go!’
She opened the lid and Dave jumped out as soon as he could. Tail wagging, he darted around her. Meanwhile, Ness rose slowly from the blanket in the car’s spacious boot and he stepped out more gracefully. When he stood next to her, she grabbed his collar and put on a lead, after which she did the same to Dave. With the exception of the field at the far side of the dog route, all canines were required to be leashed for as long as they were on the centre’s premises. The bird area was entirely off limits to them.
She walked towards the cafeteria that was situated close to the entrance, Dave to her left and Ness to her right. Although she did not often think back on those days, there had been a time when John and Nicholas were her two pups following her around, one to each hand. There was even a minor resemblance between her boys back then and her dogs now. John, her eldest, had longer hair not unlike his father’s, light brown and covering his ears, while Nicholas had been the one with shorter hair — dark blond, matching her own.
It was still early and the terrace was empty, save for a single couple enjoying their morning tea. Mrs. Cleyton sat down at her favourite table. It was situated on the inner edge of what resembled somewhat of a courtyard. Her table offered a clear view of the run where horses, ponies, and even two donkeys ran freely during the day. The dogs circled around and lay down on both sides of her table, muzzles on their paws.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Cleyton, how are you today?’ Roselyn said. She had already approached Mrs. Cleyton’s table, and asked her question before she’d had a moment to fully settle down.
Mrs. Cleyton smiled.
Roselyn was a few years younger than she was, five maybe, and she had two daughters and a little boy. She was a single mom and she worked on Saturdays in addition to her regular day job, sizing and repairing clothes at the High Street Tailor.
They had a dog as well, a light-coloured Labrador that was a recurring topic for their small talk. But it were her daughters who carried the responsibility of taking care of it. With her working six days a week, both the children and the dog spent almost more time at the kids’ grandparents than they did at home. They probably did, if you did not count the time they were asleep.
One day, her grandparents had taken ill and she had taken the entire family with her to the cafeteria. It had been a beautiful, sunny day, but most memorable for the unbearable waiting times people had suffered before having their orders taken. The eldest of her daughters had tried to make herself useful in serving the guests, but she had kept on messing up their orders. Meanwhile, the other daughter was occupied with the Labrador, while Roselyn had been divided between tending to her little boy and fixing her daughters’ mistakes. Ever since, she would call in sick if she was unable to find anyone to look after the children, leaving Mrs. Cleyton or one of the other volunteers to fill in for her.
‘Hi, Roselyn. Good, how are you?’ she replied.
‘Lovely. Earl Grey today?’
Mrs. Cleyton nodded. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll be back with that.’
If you would be so kind.
Unlike Mrs. Cleyton, Roselyn did earn an hourly wage for her work at the shelter. The only difference was, serving guests at the cafeteria paid for itself and a good deal of the centre’s bills besides. Mrs. Cleyton worked with the animals. And while the animals were the reason for the charity’s existence and more helping hands were always welcome, they did not contribute to the eternally strained balance sheet. Not directly, at least. As a small gesture, beverages at the cafeteria were provided free of charge for the volunteers, but it was a good thing that Mrs. Cleyton was not motivated entirely by financial reasons.
A few moments later, Roselyn returned with a cup of tea on a tray. Without making so much as a sound, she removed the cup’s platter from the tray and then she placed it on the table, with a little tea bag on one side, and a biscuit and a cup of milk on the other.
‘Enjoy your day, Mrs. Cleyton.’
She hurried to another table where new guests had arrived only a moment before.
You too.
Mrs. Cleyton hung the little bag in her cup and she started staring at the horses as they darted through the run. Two of the animals were chasing one another, their manes dancing in an orchestrated rhythm that seemingly synchronised with their hooves. Animal life inspired her, whenever it didn’t make her envious. Living day by day, without grand aspirations, lack of pretensions, and most of all, with a total omission of shattered dreams.
If only she could have embraced such a state of mind earlier in her life…
A cloud obscured the sun and for a moment, Mrs. Cleyton remembered part of a dream that she’d had the previous night. A storm raged along the coast and dogs were stalking the street like a pack of hyenas. Their leader caught a bird that was struggling in the wind, and it raised its head in triumph with two wings sticking out of the sides of its jaws. Another followed its example and imitated its victory pose with a still-flapping bird of its own. A third raised its head, but it had caught something white. A golf ball glistened between its jaws.
The cloud passed and the dream faded. She didn’t remember what else had happened and she wouldn’t try to. Mrs. Cleyton gratefully turned her chair as the sun returned and she glowered to take it all in.
Welcome back, old friend.
Her past was haunted by nightmares, and for someone such as Mrs. Cleyton, there was little recourse but to live in the present. When the present was good, as it was that day, a day blessed by the Lord Himself, that was a day that she could honestly say that she was glad to be alive. That was a day where she felt alive.
She looked at her tea.
Whoops!
It had turned darker than she preferred to drink it. She lifted the little tea bag and placed it on the platter, and then she opened the little cup of milk as she poured it. An inverted mushroom lit up the dark liquid, then spread evenly, only to dissolve slowly afterwards. She grabbed the tiny little biscuit and started to dip it.
A shout came from the buildings on her right.
What was that?
She turned her head and looked.
The buildings next to the terrace housed all the medical facilities as well as all the cages for animals that stayed at the centre for short-term care. It was where people dropped off their pet if they went on holiday and had no one else to look after it, but also the main entrance for animals that were given up permanently by their owners. Those animals they would try to rehome, but they were most often moved to somewhere else on the centre’s estate until they met their new loving family or caretaker — if they ever did.
She put down her biscuit and looked for Roselyn.
‘Will you look after the dogs for a moment?’ she asked when their eyes locked.
Roselyn nodded and Mrs. Cleyton stood up, one hand leaning on the table to diverge some of the effort away from her knees. Her cup on the platter clattered and trembled as she walked in the direction of the entrance.
I hope everything is all right…
Strained voices became audible as she was nearing the building. She walked through the door and was able to locate where they came from. But there was something else as well, a low rumbling sound that cut through the voices as if someone were trying to fell an entire forest with a chain saw.
It was the unmistakable growling of an animal.
She sped to the first medical room and as she opened the door the scene unfurled in front of her. Sophia was standing behind the operating table that featured a giant dog standing on top of it. Her face stood still in a pained grimace as her lower left arm disappeared into the tight jaws of the dog as it held its head low to the table and pulled aggressively. Her wrist emerged out of the other side of its mouth and blood was dripping in a fast and steady stream along
the palm of her hand.A dark red spot of saliva and blood stained the side of the dog’s dark muzzle and the constant growl that was coming from deep inside its throat spoke of its intention of not letting go any time soon.
On the other side of the table stood Liam, with a syringe in his hand. He was clearly unable to administer it as the animal kept shifting and twisting its body.
‘Jane!’ Sophia yelled. She was using her free hand to shield her face, fearing a larger escalation of the attack, but now she was pointing towards the dog’s collar.
Mrs. Cleyton didn’t hesitate. She moved up next to the dog and grabbed the beast by its collar. Then she pulled it up in a single strong motion, tightening the collar around its neck, choking the giant animal.
It yelped, yet still it clung on. Teeth clenched.
The growl deepened even further in intensity. Liam jerked to the left.
‘Ayeyayayaya,’ Sophia screamed as the jaws around her arm shifted upwards and the poor lady was forced to bend upwards as well, in a last effort to prevent the dog from breaking her brittle bones.
Something snapped, and suddenly the dog let go.
‘NOW!’ Mrs. Cleyton thundered as she threw her chest on top of the dog’s shoulders, throwing her full weight over the beast that was collapsing onto the table where it stood towering a mere moment before. She pressed it down and she kept pushing it while she held a tight grip on the collar.
There was a growling again, but at that point its intensity had already weakened.
Sophia moved around quickly and pushed the dog’s rear down to the table.
Liam reached between her and the dog and grabbed the skin in its neck. Carefully, he inserted the needle and emptied the syringe.
If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be still dancing around the table, she thought.
Mrs. Cleyton eased the collar, shushing the dog while staying on top of it to make sure it would not be able to release itself until the medication had taken its effect.
‘I take it that was the tranquilliser?’ she asked.
‘It was.’ Sophia replied. A strand of hair stuck to the sweat on her cheeks.
Mrs. Cleyton looked at Sophia’s arm. A trickle of blood was still running along the side of her forearm and it was dripping on the dog’s light brown fur. It became slowly decorated with red smears all over its rear.
‘We need to get you to a doctor,’ Mrs. Cleyton said.
‘I’ve had worse,’ Sophia countered. She would’ve shrugged if she wasn’t still trying to keep the dog down on the table.
Mrs. Cleyton felt the tension subside in the animal’s muscles. ‘Take over,’ she instructed Liam, who followed her orders without protest.
She pulled open a drawer and took out a bandage roll, alcohol, and cottons. She opened the bottle of disinfectant and applied some to the cotton.
Sophia already held out her arm and Mrs. Cleyton started dabbing the wounds. There were two rows of punctures on each side of her arm, with ghastly looking perforations where its fangs had been. If she hadn’t known any better, she might’ve thought they were the markings of a dire wolf. It was almost a miracle how a dog of that size had not been able to bite all the way through the old lady’s fragile arms. She respected Sophia a great deal because of her spirit, but her physique always made her wonder how she kept on managing to find the strength to keep it up.
Skinny twigs bend with the wind, she thought.
‘At least I already have my tetanus.’ Sophia looked at the bleeding teeth marks. She looked pale, and she had a painful grimace on her face.
‘Have a seat.’ Mrs. Cleyton guided her to a chair that was standing in the corner and Sophia sat down.
Mrs. Cleyton grabbed the bandage and started wrapping it around the skinny arm that Sophia held out numbly. Sophia glanced up and Mrs. Cleyton saw the painful gratitude in her eyes.
‘Thank you, Jane,’ Sophia said.
Despite her strength, the woman who sat opposite Mrs. Cleyton looked old and vulnerable. Her hair was in a ruffle, and the sweat on her face highlighted the wrinkles that otherwise added a warm sense of wisdom to her smile. She looked small. As if her fragile body was trying to hide itself in the blue shirt that was now covered with stains of crimson. A large red smear extended to her jeans as well.
Mrs. Cleyton smiled. ‘All taken care of,’ she said when she had finished wrapping up the bandage.
They turned back to Liam and the big dog that had now slipped off into the peacefulness of an artificial sleep. It was a large mastiff, male, with apricot fawn fur and a black muzzle and dark ears. Its chest rose and fell gently, the only reminder of its violent outburst from moments before being the red stains that matched the ones on Sophia’s clothes.
‘He’s asleep,’ Liam said.
‘He was brought in this morning,’ Sophia said. ‘A man came in and dropped him off, saying he didn’t want the dog any more. He refused to say anything else. Walked out on us.’
She sighed as she moved around the dog as if to look directly into the closed eyes of the massive creature.
‘We tried to give him his jabs and he turned on us.
‘Do you mind?’ she asked Liam, and pointed to another syringe that was lying on the table behind him.
He handed it to her, she tapped it twice to make sure there were no more bubbles of air in there, and then she made the needle disappear underneath the dog’s fur coat.
‘At least you’re not objecting now,’ she said as she emptied the vaccine into the dog, placing one hand on its nose.
‘He’ll be needing the utmost of care before we try to find him a new home.’
She patted twice on its chest.
‘Very careful indeed.’
Later that night, Mrs. Cleyton was lying in her bed, thinking of the English mastiff that had been left behind at the shelter. It had become painfully clear why the dog had been disposed of, but she still felt for the animal. She knew that a dog that behaved aggressively had been treated cruelly. She could place a bet on that, or so she had been told. It would probably require a lot of training indeed, to get its behaviour back to an acceptable level. But if they failed, the previous owner’s actions would have permanently sealed the animal’s fate…
Eventually she fell asleep, and she dreamt of three dogs playing in the fields. Three beautiful dogs each. One was a mastiff, with apricot fawn fur. Another, a German shepherd, walnut brown with parts black. The last was a Great Dane, completely black, but with a bluish sheen. They came running towards her and she called out to them. Their names were Nathaniel, and John, and Nicholas.
The goldfinch knows, as everyone should
This day is mine, thank you, my Lord
A mother knows, as everyone should
A child is a joy, don’t take him from me
Everyone fears, though nobody should
That time will pass, please don’t be near