Sleeping Dogs Lie

Joe

"Bollocks, bugger, buggeration!" Joseph 'Joe' Tibbs said as he burst from the caravan. The door banged as he stumbled down the breeze blocks steps holding a grill tray with blackened toast on it. He twisted the tray to toss the smoking ruins of his meal on the wet grass. Behind him, blue-white smoke wafted out of the open door and into the early evening twilight. The caravan had seen better days. Its trim was missing all down the side, the mirror on the back of the door was cracked and the front end of the thing was turning green with algae. The roof leaked too. In the late autumnal weather, it was getting too cold to be out in at night.

There was a short, quiet bark behind him and Joe turned to look at Digger. The mutt was laying half in and half out of a cardboard box, on top of a rumpled, old tartan throw. The box was tucked under the caravan, next to the door and the breeze block steps. Digger had some long haired Alsatian in him somewhere. You could see it in his nose, ears and fur, maybe a bit of Collie too. His muzzle was peppered with white hair but the old dog still had some life in him. Digger made his quiet bark again and looked at the burnt toast on the ground.

"Go on then," Joe said but Digger didn't move. Arthritis in his hips made it painful to get up, so Digger looked at the toast, then at Joe, then back at the toast again.

"All right," Joe said, rolling his eyes. Holding the grill tray in one hand, Joe bent down and flicked one piece of cooling black toast to the dog. Digger snapped at it, broke a piece off and gulped it down.

Joe turned to take the grill tray back inside and caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror on the back of the caravan door. Black, curly hair, too long and a bit greasy, sat on top of a face with a dark complexion, dark brown eyes and a day's stubble. Joe gave his reflection a grin, the thousand watt smile that had closed many a deal or parted a pretty girl's knees, and adjusted the red handkerchief around his neck.

Digger made his quiet bark again and Joe turned to look at him. "Yeah, you're right, the handkerchief is a bit much, isn't it?"

Shoving the grill tray inside the door, Joe untied the handkerchief and turned to fetch the last piece of burnt toast for the dog. He put it under Digger's nose and tied the red hanky around the dog's neck as Digger chewed lumps off the carbonized bread. Dog and man looked up an instant before the voice called out.

"Joe?"