People envy Doug and Meg’s relationship. Sean envies them, that’s for sure and Charles gets tired of Liz dissecting it. She likes to dissect peoples relationships, comes from teaching English Literature.
From the outside looking in, they’re a team, good mates, buddies. Meg laughs at Doug’s jokes. Doug laughs at Meg’s impression of a Swiss Army Knife. But lately people have noticed cracks where once the surface was smooth.
Until they bought the shop, they’d never worked together. At first it was wonderful, a novelty. They each had their own jobs to get the business off the ground – their mobiles rang, there were the emails, the website, the blog, facebook …
But now, several months down the track and with the shop proving moderately successful, routine has taken over where excitement left off. Doug and Meg are spending long uninterrupted hours in each other’s company. Their nerves are stretched. Meg has a habit (Doug never noticed it before) of wanting to be reminded of the most inane things. ‘Can you remind me not to cut my fingernails so short? Can you remind me not to wear these sandals with this skirt?’ And Doug refuses to wear a watch and constantly asks her the time, sometimes twice in an hour. ‘Meggsie, any idea of the time?’
Things have come to a head. It was the souvlaki.
They both agreed that eating in front of customers is out of the question and will go to great pains to hide food under the counter away from sight. Then Doug discovered the souvlaki place in Smith Street. At first Meg was restrained in her comments. ‘Darling the garlic is really strong and it clashes with the essential oils.’ Not to be put off he continued to bring souvlaki into the shop but cracked open a packet of incense and lit a few sticks to disguise the smell – a couple along the counter in amongst the fairy tooth keepers, a few into the top of the carousel displaying the Larsen cards, he stuck one into an amethyst crystal and one into the polystyrene tray of mood rings. But Meg is not fooled.
Stepping over the threshold, she freezes and sniffs the air. Doug stuffs his lunch under the counter. She says, ‘Have you been eating souvlaki?’
‘Do I look like I’ve been eating souvlaki?’ He uses a counter attack, a question to answer a question but he speaks not realizing he has mayonnaise on his chin and lettuce in his teeth.
‘Yes you do.’ Meg marches past to the back of the shop.
He hates being in the wrong. While Meg is out of sight he bundles up the souvlaki, smuggles it out the door and throws it in the bin in the street. He resolves not to speak to her for the rest of the afternoon or until she apologizes. He sits silent behind the counter, arms folded across his Jimmy Barnes T-shirt, his jaw tight and his eyes gazing into infinity. A passerby glances in the door and asks if he sells bongs. ‘Do I look like I sell bongs?’
‘Yes,’ says the passerby startled by Doug’s aggression.
And so the afternoon wears on …
Finally it’s Meg who breaks the stand off. ‘What’s your problem Doug?’ Her tone is more impatient than compassionate.
‘If you don’t know, I’m not telling you,’ he says, trying to give the impression he’s engrossed in an article in the Big Issue. Its 4.30 and he’s starving. Meg thinks he looks big and awkward behind the counter. He belongs in the fresh air - in a man’s world where he can spit, fart, sweat, eat souvlaki and belch. She feels warm observing the father of her children, her lover of twenty years. She slips out to the back of the shop where there is a small kitchen and makes him a cuppa in his favourite mug. He bought it over the phone from the Guide Dog Association; it has a picture of a Labrador on it. Last year he bought the tea towel and the year before, the pen. Doug is a dog owner without a dog. She butters him a couple of slices of bread and slides the food and drink along the counter under his nose.
‘I think we need to talk.’ He looks up into her face. She does an impression of a Swiss Army Knife. ‘But you could you get that lettuce out from between your teeth.’
They talk for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. By bedtime, a decision has been made. The shop is up and running and they don’t both have to be there every day. There’s still some money left over from Aunty Mi Mi and the back of the house needs some work. So it’s agreed. Doug will work in the shop when required but otherwise will stay at home, demolish the back verandah and build a family room. Christmas is on its way and if he works hard, the room will be finished in time for the big family get-together. Content with their problem solving, they curl up under the blankets. Doug gives her a squeeze and decides to push the intimate moment a little further. ‘Since I’ll be home working on the house, what say we get a dog?’ Meg is drifting off and hears, ‘Plinth pill knee foam and skip, pot nay out of the fog?’ And she agrees.
In no time at all, the new plan is visibly under way. Meg leaves home for the shop every morning and there’s a rubbish skip out the front of the house that Doug is filling up with the junk that’s been stored on the back verandah for years. A design has been drawn up for the new room and the application for the permit lodged with Council. Doug decides that now is the time to go dog shopping.
It’s a good day for it. The sun is shining, there’s not a breath of wind – early spring – definitely the right sort of day to fetch a new member into the family. The dishes are done, the beds made. There’s no reason not to get into the car and drive to the North Melbourne Lost Dog’s Home. His heart beats a little faster with anticipation. He struggles to control the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Inside the Lost Dog’s Home, a woman with two grey ponytails and a Cocker Spaniel face greets him. She’s wearing a purple shirt buttoned all the way to her throat and dark blue Yakka work overalls. And when she breathes, her nose whistles. Doug explains the purpose of his visit and she asks if he has a fancy for a particular kind of dog.
‘No. I’ve come with an open mind. I feel I’ll recognize the dog for me when I see it.’
‘I’ll have someone show you through the kennels,’ she says, pressing a buzzer on the counter.
Another woman appears. She too has a Cocker Spaniel face, grey pony tails and wears a purple shirt and Yakka overalls. Her nose whistles too.
Doug is taken aback and thinks, Hmm. Probably from the same litter.
He’s led down a corridor and across a yard to the concrete pens; he smells a strong mixture of dog and disinfectant. The woman says, ‘Take your time and if one takes your fancy, I can let it out so you can become acquainted.’
Doug has every intention of taking all the time in the world if need be – this is an important decision.
He walks slowly along the pens, peers into each space, looking to make eye contact with his soul mate. Trembling balls of fluff whimper and puppies with bald spotty tummies roll on their backs and piddle on themselves. A Setter (possibly with Attention Deficit Disorder) peers between bars and a Jack Russell skates in circles on its bottom. Then he comes to a Heeler. This dog is lying on its stomach looking at the world through slits. Doug bends down to look closer and one brow twitches on the broad canine forehead. ‘Hey boy. What’s your story?’ He speaks in a low croon. The dog widens his eyes and locks them onto Doug’s.
The woman with the Cocker Spaniel face does not miss the moment; she’s sensitive to such things. Without a word she leans over and unlatches the cage door. The dog rises to its feet and limps towards Doug. His right hind leg is missing; Doug feels a moment of disappointment. Still their gazes are locked. Then the dog reaches out with his nose and pushes it into Doug’s crotch, takes a deep breath, sighs. Content.
The dog sits in the front seat beside Doug as they weave through the city towards home. They lean into each other as they go around the corners. Shoulder to shoulder breathing in each other’s smells, warmth flows between them. Already Doug loves the feel of the tight steaky, muscular body against his. It’s been years since he had a dog; not since he was a kid. In this moment, he’s a profoundly happy man.
When Meg pulls the van into the drive around 6.00pm, she’s surprised to find a dog blocking the way. She beeps the horn and it moves reluctantly on to the front porch, struggling a little with the step. She picks her way cautiously passed it and once inside the house runs to the kitchen. Meg is wary of dogs. She’s often said to Doug, ‘Dogs and I don’t speak the some language.’
Doug is at the sink. He turns and beams at her. ‘I got the dog today.’
‘The what?’
‘The dog. I went to the Lost Dog’s Home and picked out a dog.’
‘Why?’
‘You said it was OK.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘Yes you did.’
‘I wouldn’t’
‘You did. Don’t say you didn’t cos you did and I’ve got him now. I chose him from all the others and I want him. He’s a beautiful dog.’
Meg looked deep into Doug’s face and said, ‘Umm .. He’s got three legs.’
And that’s how Boofda joined the family.
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