Loki the Lockdown Dog

Truce?

11. Truce?

The lockdown was easing just a little bit further. More and more people were using the hill for picnics and walks and Frisbees, just as more golfers started hitting their little white balls around. People still hid their features behind masks, making communication just that little bit more difficult. I could see that my altercation with the golfer wasn't going to be the only incident, as balls were flying past picnicking families, dangerously close to their children. Children were also playing in sand bunkers with buckets and spades, and groups of teenagers played cricket on the greens. The owner of the golf course put signs up warning people to stick to the 'permissive paths'. It sounded to me that one could get up to all sorts of mischief on the 'permissive paths', so it was hardly surprising that people were kissing and cuddling and playing all kinds of games.

An uneasy truce settled in between the golfers, the dog walkers, the picnickers and the Frisbee-ers. The dog walkers didn't set their dogs on the golfers, and the golfers refrained from threatening children or animals - their clubs no longer brandished like tomahawks. The Frisbee-ers and Aerobie-ers tried not to aim their flying machines at the others, with varying degrees of success.

Lockdown was taking its toll on everyone. Despite the appearance of normal social interaction, people were still very much on their own, or in the company of only a few human beings or other animals. Beneath the calm exterior, a hidden tension simmered just below the surface, a whisker away from boiling over.

On the way back to the flat through the woods, I saw the little squirrel that I'd almost eaten. He was sitting in a low branch glaring at me as we approached.

"Hi squirrel," I said. "Are you recovered? I'm so sorry."

"Ha! As if you care whether I'm recovered or not," the squirrel replied.

"I do – I do. It was just instinct that led me to chase you," I pleaded.

"You're as bad as the humans, you are," he said.

"Humans aren't that bad once you get to know them," I said, realising that these were exactly the same words I'd used so unsuccessfully with Blackrabbit.

"You know that we've been declared vermin, with no rights at all, do you?" continued the squirrel, without pausing for breath. "There are traps in these very woods for us. We are shot at and poisoned as well, without mercy, without care, without love. Sure, a lot of humans are nice to us and feed us nuts, but that doesn't make up for the fact that the Government are trying to exterminate us."

"The Government are idiots," I parroted once more. "Well I'm not trying to eat you today, am I?"

"Only because you can't reach me," he said, bouncing onto my neck, digging his claws in for a moment, before jumping onto the trunk of a nearby oak. Immediately, he scampered round to the back of the tree so he was hidden from view, and from there ascended up into its leafy boughs. He looked down at me from above, and I could see the scar from the wound I'd given him, on the white bib over his stomach. I wished for all the world that the squirrel would forgive me. It wasn't to be, for he scurried along a branch and launched himself onto an adjacent and majestic beech, before disappearing into the depths of the woods.

Whether it was due to the pressures of lockdown I know not, but the humans had started behaving very strangely in the evenings. It wasn't every day, but when it happened it was in the late evening before sunset. All the humans came out of their front doors at the same time and exchanged pleasantries with their immediate neighbours. They'd then look to their neighbours and start applauding, nodding their heads, with their neighbours returning the compliment. It was hard to tell who'd done what, and who was clapping who, but it seemed to last quite a long time, and some people even banged on pots and pans. This seemed to go on for an agreed amount of time, before people, en masse, waved to their neighbours and returned to the sanctity of their homes. I was delighted by this, for it brought forth more people than I'd ever seen - even if they were behaving more than a little strangely. The fact that some had their faces covered made it even more bizarre. I could tell that it wasn't just me who was puzzled by this behaviour, for the magpies, sparrows, and even the cats had complex ideas about what its true purpose was. Whilst I listened to the theories of the magpies and sparrows, I covered my ears with my paws when the cats started meowling their opinions. Their ideas could just as easily have been aimed at tricking the sparrows so they could eat more of them. Cats plotted and schemed so far in advance, double and triple bluffing you until you didn't know your hock from your carpus, so that you simply couldn't trust a word they said. In the absence of available sparrows, the cats chased, toyed and ate the beautiful moths that had gathered on a nearby buddleia. They treated them as if they were no more than flying crisps.

Just when I was beginning to think I had imagined the whole clapping event, which had been the most exciting thing I'd experienced in human society, the whole process would be repeated some days later as if a signal had been given from the central applause office. The timing would be precise and the humans would act out the choreographed clapping of their neighbours, before disappearing as one with a cheery wave. As you now know, dogs aren't good with time, but one thing I was certain about, was that each time this happened, the applause got that little bit shorter, and people disappeared back into their houses just that little bit sooner. I lost count of the number of times this whole process was reiterated. But then, again as if by edict from the central applause office, the clapping stopped altogether, once and for all.

The magpies thought it had been a religious ritual. As you may know, magpies are very spiritual birds, with complex and inscrutable rituals that even other corvids can't understand. One such ritual is the theft of a bright and shiny object, which they say represents the Holy Ghost. The sparrows, on the other hand, thought it a mutual appreciation process akin to the early pilot lessons at sparrow school. I admit that I did listen to the cats, despite my better judgment. They thought it was something to do with heroic rainbow healers, which just goes to show how little they really know.