Friday, 4 March 2011


Gleaming white teeth tore flesh from bone. Blood covered the beasts muzzle. Intent on sating its hunger, but still wary, its ears flicked back and forth listening for danger.

A low growl caused the large dog to raise his head. His eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, revealing a white band beneath them. With lips curled back, showing a maw of sharp teeth, powered by the immense muscles in his cheeks, he watched the intruder getting closer.

“My kill. My food.” The dog’s guttural voice warned the approaching bitch.

“Your kill. My food,”  she snarled back at him.

The smell of her, stirred his desire, but the need to defend his meal from being taken was stronger. The hackles on his back rose. He positioned himself between her and his kill.

“Know your place, bitch. You can eat when I‘ve finished.”

“My need is greater than yours.” Her nails scrapped on the hard ground beneath her feet. The scent glands in her feet marking the territory that she considered her own.

He could tell by the odour of her that she had recently pupped; some of his aggression waned. Knowing she was proven fertile, his interest in her became more intense. The food behind him now less important.

Reading the change in his stance, she drew nearer to his kill. For reasons he did not understand he drew back and let her take what remained of his skilful hunt. It took but a fleeting moment for her to fasten her jaws around the half eaten rabbit, then she was racing away. The scent of her leaving a trail on the ground that he knew he could easily follow.

He thrust his nose to the ground, slavering as he took in the smell of her. He didn’t know how long it would be before she was in season again, but he would easily recognise her scent when she was.

A piercing sound rent the air. It made the insides of his ears itch. Something came crashing through the bushes. A chemical smell assailed his nostrils, it drowned out the perfume of the bitch he had conversed with.

“I’ve got him, Emily .” The voice was familiar, as was its owners scent.

 Before he had the chance to escape a noose encircled his throat.

“I thought I’d lost you,” came the gentle voice of the elderly figure who now stood next to him.

A trembling hand smoothed the hairs along his spine. He moved swiftly to one side avoiding the metal pole, that swung carelessly near his head.  He felt a profound desire to protect and please this human. His human, his family. Thoughts of the beautiful, strong bitch started to fade. He submitted to the harness his human slipped over his head and fastened under his belly.

Slowly he lead his blind owner back to the path. He knew which way to go and confidently he walked them both back to the comfort of their home.

© Lindsey Chapman -

First Day

“Settle down sweetheart,”  said Helen, sliding onto the bus seat next to her daughter.

Jane shifted uncomfortably; the rough fabric of the seat pricked the back of her knees.

“I don’t want to go, Mummy.”

“You’ll enjoy it when you get there, Jane,” her mother soothed.

“But I want to play with Maggie.”

“Maggie, will still be at home when you get back. You can play with her then.”

“No, she won’t,” said Jane sullenly.

“Of course she will.” Not giving Jane the chance to reply, Helen said, “Now, have you got everything?”

Jane nodded.

Helen felt a little hurt that her daughter would miss Maggie more than her.

With her school bag clutched tightly to her chest, Jane settled and sat quietly looking out of the window. At last the bus juddered to a halt in front of the school yard.

Helen’s eyes brimmed with tears as she kissed her daughter goodbye. She watched as her little girl strode across the playground and disappeared through the door of the classroom. Tissue in hand Helen wiped her eyes, retreated from the gate and walked the few steps back to the bus stop.

The scream that came from behind her shook her rigid. The heel of her shoe snagged on the uneven pavement, as in panic, she turned seeking out the source of the scream. She was shocked to see Jane, her little legs pounding away the space across the school yard. The little girl collided with her mother, small arms wrapping round Helen’s legs.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Helen bent down and scooped the crying child into her arms.

“They are all horrible,” sobbed Jane.

“Why are they horrible?” A turmoil of feelings swept through Helen. Despite not wanting to see her child in such a distressed state, she was relieved that Jane was now clearly showing she wanted to be with her mother. The relief was short lived.

“They want to kill Maggie,” squealed Jane.

“Of course they don’t want to kill Maggie.”

“They do! They do!”

Helen, carried Jane back towards the classroom. As she approached the door, she could hear crying, screaming and a heavy thumping sound. Her mind raced, ‘what was happening in there?’.

Barging through the doorway, Helen was greeted with the scene of children standing on desks and the school mistress huddled in a corner, beating the ground with a long board ruler. In front of the school mistress sat Maggie. She seemed completely at home, totally unfazed by the noise that surrounded her. Her little cheeks looked fit to burst as she crammed in yet more food from an open lunch box on the floor.

“See, Mummy, see,  Miss is trying to kill her.”

“How did she get here,” wailed Helen, bending down to gently pick up Maggie Mouse.

“I brought her in my bag,” snivelled Jane.

The tears that fell from Helen’s eyes as she travelled home were of laughter. She carefully held the small box on her knee. Maggie replete with sandwich and cake slept blissfully unaware of the chaos she had caused.

© Lindsey Chapman -