Dogsbody

My bitch is in season.

She’s grounded, gardens only.

I didn’t expect it to cause a knock at the door. Not when I was enjoying a hard-earned day off gazing vacantly at daytime TV, idly wondering about the contents of my loft.

Tuesday mornings are considered to be safe to answer door knocks. Magazine subscription sellers are at their day jobs. My double glazing is in pretty good condition and I have a shiny new driveway.

With only the tiny regret that I’m sure to miss the final sale price for an interesting knick-knack, I unleash my dressing gown and stubble on to the outside world.

Well, onto a very attractive young lady holding a shaggy dog to be more precise. Years of training have honed my observational skills to near perfection. One of us was clearly excited at the opening of the door. Sadly, it wasn’t the one who spoke.

“You’re a Policeman, right?”

Damn, my cunning disguise hadn’t fooled her.

These four and a half words were the first she’d said to me in over a decade of being neighbours. Actually, she wasn’t a neighbour in the purest sense of the word. She lived opposite-ish. I could only see her house in the winter months when the leaves in our particular bit of suburbia took a sabbatical. Then I would have to crane my neck to a precise angle and make use of a strong pair of binoculars.

My puzzled look was taken as an affirmative and a cue to continue.

“I found this dog outside your gate. It hasn’t got a collar on.”

‘It’ was also sporting an impressive erection. We telepathically agreed to gloss over this fact. I was still at a loss as to see how being a Policeman had involved me in the sordid situation. I don’t even own a video camera.

She quickly explained to clear up any further confusion.

“I thought you would know what to do with it”

Assuming she meant the dog as a whole, I searched my memory to think if this situation had ever been covered in the myriad of TV policing shows. I came up blank. Maybe she had seen something on one of the more obscure satellite channels. Whoever the producer of that programme was, I think you could get your viewer ratings up if you included a short public information piece entitled:- “How to deal with lost, horny dogs without the need to bother your local off-duty Policeman” or something equally catchy. A retired sheriff with big teeth and hair adding gravity to the highlights would be nice too.

Leaving him expectantly sniffing my herringbone block-paving, I rang the locals to get a van sent round.

With the Throbbing Metropolis rumour-mill being quick to condemn and slow to forgive.

I changed out of my dressing gown before they arrived.