Nov 20, 2015

Extract from Chapter 33 of mystery-comedy novel, 'The Investigations of the Para-Usual': 

‘Now you know I ‘ave not before employed what would you call yerself? – sort of a pantomime dog? But, ‘ere you are, and I do admire your preparedness. There, good word that “preparedness”. But you would ‘ave to play the part, you do know that?’

Dr Pratt’s Labrador stared back at Higgins, impassively, as the security guard took an opportunity to gulp tea from a mug.

‘Oh, very good. Can’t speak. ‘Course you can’t,’ said the guard, post-gulp. ‘Cat got your tongue.’

Higgins licked his lips to aid a thought process, then recommenced.

‘Name?’ asked Higgins. Forgetting himself immediately and his canine interviewee’s limitations, he reached across and grasped the metal tag dangling from Dr Pratt’s collar.

‘Fluff’, said the name tag, the name that Dr Pratt, former Head of the IPU, would carry henceforth.

‘Fluff,’ mused Higgins. ‘Not very butch… but where are my manners?’ he said, springing out of his sponge-haemorrhaging chair to extend a hand. ‘My name’s Mr Wayne Higgins.’

Fluff did not react.

‘Paw!’ ventured Mr Wayne Higgins, hovering over the desk, with his hand still outstretched.

Fluff twitched, but other than that no response.

‘Paw!’ said Higgins drawling the word. ‘Give me your paw,’ more beseechingly.

Fluff pawed at Higgins’ proffered hand. Higgins caught hold and gave it a good shake.

‘Very good. Now, do you have any references?’ asked Higgins, sitting back down to pull the cord hanging around his neck. His reading spectacles bobbled up his face and settled skewwhiff on the bridge of his nose.

Higgins was at first too occupied jiggling his eyebrows at Fluff, beaming at the spectacle trick he’d once again managed to pull off. But then, by degrees he became aware that the job candidate was trying to communicate something. Fluff was nuzzling at the leather case round his neck. Higgins reached across and delved inside the case to produce what was now evidently a tape recorder. As he placed it down on the desktop, Fluff reached over with a paw and triggered the play button.

‘Good boy!’ said a voice above a crackling background. ‘There’s a good boy. Who’s a good boy?’

Fluff stopped the tape and sat back down. Higgins raised his eyebrows, impressed.

‘Very good reference,’ said Higgins, selecting a pen from his blazer pocket in order to make a note on one of the random scraps of paper festooning the desk. ‘You’re certainly a good boy. That’s good for us getting along at least.’