Waiting in the car
October 23, 2010 § Leave a comment
The window is open a crack, but still.
The big brown dog couldn’t find a comfortable spot in the old blue car; he’d tried the front seats but the steering wheel and the handbrake and the gearstick got in the way. Tried the passenger footwell, free of feet for once, but he couldn’t fit so neatly around himself.
He sits up on the back seat, leans against the backrest and tries to sleep. The smells of autumn drift across the park and through the window,and other dogs with their owners tumble by, lurching back and forth on their leads like yoyos.
His owner isn’t anywhere in sight. The dog wants to be out in the park, running with that boy and the football, or barrelling towards that collie over there.
He’s been gone ages, and even barking didn’t bring him back. The dog needs the toilet but he knows last time he made a mistake and did that in the car the man took a shoe to him for it, so instead he slumps back, closes his eyes and tries to dream of rabbits. Wills his owner to come back soon.
Doesn’t see the people gathering round the crumpled man on the path at the other side of the park. Hears the ambulance’s siren but doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t understand. Why would he? He’s just a dog, after all.