The Dog that Dumped on my Doona Read Free Page A

have never seen Dylan move so quickly.
    He was a blur.
    Within point oh-one-six of a second, he had disappeared around a corner. And that must have been a hundred metres away. You could feel the air being sucked behind him. Branches of trees bent in the wind he made. The bitumen was smoking. Gone. So much for friendship , I thought. Leave me to be chewed to a bloody pulp , I thought. Look after yourself , I thought.
    The dog hadn’t budged from where it had landed. It sat on its dirty-white bum and scratched behind an ear. Its hairs had flattened.
    â€˜Got rid of that dropkick,’ the voice in my head said. ‘God is waiting, boyo.’
    Boyo ?
    Look, I don’t know how you’d behave, but at that moment I came to a decision. Maybe there was no point fighting against insanity. Maybe it was better to give in, go with the flow, enjoy the ride. Plus, I had a horrible feeling that it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep God waiting.
    â€˜All right,’ I said.
    We went and sat in a deserted play area, me on a peeling bench and the dog laid out at my feet. Having given in to insanity, I decided I might as well try to be friendly, despite the poo on my doona.
    â€˜Shall I scratch your belly?’ I said.
    â€˜Only if you want to lose your fingers,’ said the dog.
    So much for friendliness.
    â€˜Listen,’ it continued. ‘Shut your trap and pin back your ears. I have important things to tell you and frankly I’ve got better things to do with my time than spend days chewing the fat with you.’
    â€˜Like what?’ I asked. I was curious. What important things did dogs have to do?
    â€˜Chasing cats,’ it said. ‘Chewing up shoes, sniffing other dogs’ bums. None of your damn business, mate. And I told you to shut up.’
    I shut up.
    â€˜I’ll make this quick,’ it continued. ‘You are a rare human being. So rare, in fact, that you are one in roughly five million people. Don’t get superior about it, by the way. It’s just an accident, all right? The way you were born. In every other respect, you are typically human. Below average intelligence, actually, which is a terrifying thing in its own right. But you were born with the ability to hear some animals, to communicate in a way that very few can. I am also unusual in that I can talk to you. Us animals are, of course, more intelligent and more highly developed than you, so the ability to communicate is limited to one in a million for us. The odds, therefore, against you ever being able to talk to an animal are …’
    â€˜Big?’ I said.
    â€˜Bigger than big.’
    â€˜Huge?’
    â€˜Huger than huge.’
    â€˜Colossal?’
    â€˜Let’s not get bogged down in complicated statistical mathematics,’ said the dog. ‘Accept that our meeting is very, very unlikely. In fact, it couldn’t have happened by chance. I have been searching for you. And now I’ve found you.’
    â€˜Because you are on a mission from God?’
    â€˜Exactly. And it is my job to pass that mission on to you. Any questions before we start?’
    I did have one, actually.
    â€˜Did you fart?’ I asked.
    â€˜Sure did.’
    â€˜It’s foul.’
    â€˜You’re lucky. My sense of smell is ten thousand times more sensitive than yours.’

There is nothing very interesting to see down a toilet bowl , I thought, staring at the water gently rippling a few centimetres from my eyes. It beat me why Dylan thought it might be a fun thing to do.
    â€˜Say you’re sorry and I won’t flush,’ said Rose.
    It was all my fault. I should have been more careful. But I was still thinking about the amazing story the dog had told me and the incredible mission I’d been entrusted with. So when I came home, I did what I always did. Dropped my bag in the middle of the kitchen floor, searched the fridge for something to eat and headed straight for the toilet. I was