Dog Eat Dog

By Amabel

A beautiful morning, the birds are singing, the sun is shining, and I’m sat in mum’s shop wearing a jumper made of dog hair. I have to wear it because my mum thinks it’s a great way to advertise her business: “wearyourdog.com”. We’ve even got our own slogan – “Doggie-Knitwear: Give the Sheep Some Time Off”. People say that dogs look like their owners, well in our shop, people look like their dogs! You know I’m really getting into this business; I might even take it over when I’m old enough… or maybe not. Big Bill, nastier than a lion with a toothache, walks into to the shop and I really don’t want him to be here. Mum’s been in a wheelchair these last two years after a car crash and poor old mum won’t be able to cope if Bill starts demanding money from her again!

“Morning Jacob, is your mum in? I’ve come to do a bit of…negotiating.”

“All right Bill, what do you want?” Mum answers with a steady voice.

“Oh Jackie, It’s not what I want, it’s what you want, and it’s the last time I’m asking. I’m offering to insure your shop for only a hundred a week. Of course, if this tiny sum is still too much, I’ll leave, for the last time. But be sure watch your shop carefully because there might be a few little accidents in the next few days!”

I knew there would be a catch. There always is with Bill. I feel sorry for mum, she can’t afford to pay him, and we both know that these “little accidents” won’t be “little” at all. In fact they’ll be as “little” as that gas-guzzling monster he drives around in to show everyone that he’s the boss.

“Accidents, Jackie. You remember those?”

Mum stared out of the shop window for a few seconds while Bill stood there grinning like a crocodile.

“Look Bill,” she said after a few moments, smiling too now, “How about you give me another week and I’ll give you one of my famous jumpers to keep you warm while you’re waiting? It’s worth a hundred or so… just to give me time to sort out the cash.”

Bill thinks slowly. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind one of your jumpers.”

“Coming right up!” Mum seems happy with the deal. So I find myself pushing mum into the back.

“Mum, isn’t that the box of jumpers you told me to put out with the bins because they’re…”

“…Quiet, Jake! For once, you not doing what you’re told is a good thing.”

And then I’m wheeling Mum back into the shop and she’s the one who’s smiling sweetly as she wraps the jumper and gives it to a triumphant-looking Bill.

“Bye Bill!” Shouts Mum, and then to me out of the corner of her mouth, “I knew that flea-ridden mutt would come good in the end.

You know, that’s why I like my mum. She’s always got something up her sleeve!