– There’s a dog in the garden, my mother said. It’s acting very strangely.
My father looked out of the window. So did my brother, my sister and I.
Sure enough, at the bottom of the garden there was an Afghan hound. It was a red-gold colour, although its coat was dirty and scruffy-looking. Also, its legs were spindly – more so than is usual for an afghan.
Something was clearly wrong with it; its mouth was dripping yellow foam and it was growling, whining and barking at nothing. Its eyes were constantly rolling, showing the whites.
– Don’t go outside, our father said. It’s mad. It’ll attack anyone who goes out there.
– What’ll we do? my mother asked.
– For now, my father said, we’ll just keep an eye on it.
– What’s it doing? my sister asked.
– It’s staring at the pond, growling.
– I wonder why, my mother said.
– It’s probably just seen its reflection for the first time and has discovered that it’s ginger, my brother said. That’d certainly be enough to drive me mad. Read more…
My Father’s Garden: Mad Dog
Copyright © R J Dent (2014)
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