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Jason & Demarara #2:

by jamie harding 9 months ago in Series
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The man who like dogs (but not their poo)

A GRUMPY JASON pulled out a string of green dog poo bags from one of the many pockets built into his technical hiking coat, looking, thought Demarara, like an animal scat magician. “Ta-Da!” she imagined him saying, before wowing the audience with an elaborate card trick or somesuch.

But Jason wasn’t magical, and the only audience was Demarara herself, and her friend Jenny’s mother’s dog’s brother, a white Staffordshire named Todd. The hound was sat, staring at Jason, a tripartite bowel motion steaming by his haunches.

“It’s not even hers,” grumbled Jason, fiddling with the bags. It was winter and a tough time for extremities. Jason had compounded the situation by neglecting to wear gloves. Demarara shrugged, “I know, sweetie. But she did water the houseplant that time we . . .”

“Because that’s the same,” said Jason, stooping down to Todd’s level, “as walking a dog for the whole weekend. Watering a single houseplant is exactly the same. Because houseplants defecate! Who knew! And they shit, — Jason gestured extravagantly, disgustedly, at the fallen dung — “Like this! And I’mmm the one who has to clear its mess up.”

“I’m allergic, you know that,” complained Demarara. “Besides, you like dogs.”

This was true. Jason did like dogs. But while he liked Jenny, he found her incongruous use of trite Americanisms grossly irritating. But he wasn’t in the mental space, right now, you know, on living up to this billing, or even acknowledging it. He also had doubts regarding Demarara’s dog allergy. He just thought she thought they would stink up their flat.

“They’re okay,” he shrugged as he carefully gathered the faecal drops, determined not to goldfinger himself. He noted they were of different heights, like a podium. He broke his sullen mask and told Demarara the simile. She smiled, just.

“The man who liked dogs,” added Demarara. “And other stories. You’ve got a book called that. On the pile by your bed.”

“Raymond Chandler,” said Jason, genuinely pleased she’d observed the battered paperback collection of Chandler’s shorts, and filed it, and could link it to the incumbent canine situation.

The three walked on towards the church, outside of which was a dog poo bin strapped to a lamppost.

Jason asked, “What is she doing again, when she should be walking Todd? And why her mum’s dog’s brother . . .?”

“SIGH,” said Demarara. She then actually sighed, and said, “I’ve told you this, she’s . . .”

But Jason had tuned out, annoyed by the trite Americanism Demarara had employed. He wondered where he could find an Oldsmobile that he could drive out to the coast, stopping for a steak dinner and buying a pint of whiskey to sip back in a hotel room, where rain was beating hard against the window.

The poo bag split when Jason turned it into the bin.

“Let’s go home,” said Demarara. Todd barked, first time he’d done so whilst in their care.

This is the second installment of the Jason & Demarara series. You can find the first tale, "Stupid Pigs" right here on Vocal. New installments are available every one to two weeks!

JS Harding is a writer of satire, short stories, novels, unproduced radio plays, and a bit of travel writing too. He lives in the East of England with his wife, a dog called Dave, and two horses.

Novelist (writing as LJ Denholm) - Under Rand Farm - available in paperback via Amazon and *FREE* via Kindle Unlimited!

Short story writer - Mr. Threadbare, Farmer Young et al

Humour writer - NewsThump, BBC Comedy.

Kids' writer - TBC!

Series

About the author

jamie harding

Novelist (writing as LJ Denholm) - Under Rand Farm - available in paperback via Amazon and *FREE* via Kindle Unlimited!

Short story writer - Mr. Threadbare, Farmer Young et al

Humour writer - NewsThump, BBC Comedy.

Kids' writer - TBC!

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