CHAPTER 1

Lucky the mongrel dog, paced sadly around the back garden of his master’s house. He was hungry and lonely. He went to the tree near a corner of the garden, lifted his hind leg and urinated for a long minute. Relieved, he shook himself briskly, sat on the ground and vigorously scratched around his ears with his paws

It was beautiful morning with the promise of glorious sunshine. Birds twittered merrily in their tree nests and a soft breeze wafted through the garden. The morning dew on the short carpet of grass on which Lucky was lying was pleasantly cool on his body. All around Pleasant Mews, the suburban estate in which his master’s house was located, and which was far removed from the perpetual commotion of the nearby town of  Trubbled Times, there was a sense of complete peace and harmony .

 It should indeed be a day to be happy and to be grateful for, but not for Lucky. For some days now, every new morning came  with a new hunger; every morning  came with a noisy  troubling in his stomach.  And every new morning, he had needed to newly console himself  with the decision that being hungry  was not entirely bad, because hunger was proof that you were still alive and healthy. And as the saying went: if there is life, then there is still hope.  Nevertheless, an  hungry stomach  demanded that it be attended to.

Lucky laughed ruefully. As usual, the , problem of this morning  was that his owner , Mr. Salami, who had been away since the previous morning had made no provision for him to be fed . And thus, Lucky’s  prayer  this morning was that Mr.Salami would return by nightfall with some food . Meanwhile, he would need to be brave about his hunger  for the rest of the day.

Often, the thought would come to him to go find his relations and ask them for a bit of food, but such thought he would quickly put away. He had been whelped in Dark Vale , which was an unluckier district on the other end of Trubbled Times and where the rest of his family still remained.  The unfortunate situation was that his siblings, many of whom still spent the cold nights under trees and shrubs, considered Lucky a dog of great means, being as it were, lucky to have a roof over his head. So he was indeed thought the champion of the clan; which was a great error, considering his current circumstances.

It was indeed a dog's life here in Pleasant Mews for Lucky the dog. All  he did every day was sit in the garden and watch his life being gradually whittled away. Often he would wonder when and how  it would all  end; and even though he had no answer to these difficult questions, the possibilities filled him with dread.  Very recently, all he had been able to think about everyday was, food : how to get some to eat, and how to maintain the hope that the hunger of the next day would  not be as severe as that of the previous day.

Lucky got up from the lawn and walked stiffly to the short fence which separated his master’s garden from the next.. He was certain that a new dog had the previous day arrived in the house next door with the new neighbour. In the night he had heard a lot of troubled barking, like the tantrum of a spoilt child.

‘ Dog! Dog! Dog! ‘, Lucky yowled hopefully across the fence. And just as  he had thought, a big burly bulldog poked his head out of the door of the hose next door , and then very slowly and very cautiously walked over to the  fence.

‘ What is that dreadful noise about? What sort of bad-mannered beast are you to make that much noise to disturb the peace of this nice day? ‘, the bulldog gruffly asked

’ Oh, there you are, Dog. It was me calling you.’, Lucky happily replied.

‘ Why do you call me by that name? It is not my name. ‘;the bulldog was certainly annoyed.

’But that is what you are, friend. All dogs are called Dog.’. Lucky told him

‘Is that so? Well, does it look to you that I am just a common dog? I am a prize canine and my name is not Dog.’

Lucky looked confused for a long minute.  He also wondered why the bulldog was being so surly.

’You are a prize dog? Pleased to meet you, friend. What then is your name? What do they call you?’, Lucky asked.

‘My name is BONZO and I am a bulldog.’ , the other dog growled.   Lucky still remained confused.

‘That is wonderful.  But a bull is a male cow, and as far as I know it bears no natural relationship with a dog. Are you not getting all of this confused? What kind of name is BONZO? What does it mean?’ Lucky was bewildered.

’ I don't know and I don't care to know. It is what my owner calls me. And it sounds elegant doesn’t it?’, Bonzo growled. Lucky shrugged his shoulder. It was nice to finally have a neighbour he could talk to , dog-to-dog .

‘Oh well, it is your name and if you are happy with it, who is to care? My own name is Lucky, nevertheless.’ he joyfully said, stretching out his paw to shake. The other dog arrogantly declined.

’Your name is Lucky? It sounds very common. I would not be surprised if half of your clan shared that same name. I mean it sounds very cheap.’ Bonzo sneered.

‘Maybe it does; but it has a meaning. It suggests a beneficial contemplation; it also suggests a joyful proposition.’ Lucky tiredly shrugged.

‘It does not sound so contemplative to me. It sounds common, ugly and meaningless for a dog in your obviously sorry situation’.

Lucky found himself getting angry at this impolite dog. ‘It sounds ugly. Look who is talking. I suggest that you look  in a mirror before you call anything else ugly, friend. Who was it that beat up your face like this? Is your owner so evil?’, Lucky reprimanded Bonzo.

’ I am a bulldog. My face has not been beaten up. That is how we bulldogs look.’, Bonzo smugly replied.

’ In that case, I feel so fortunate that I am not a bulldog. I hope friend, that you are not going to be as nasty a dog as you are beginning to sound. First, you don't seem to have an idea what you are - whether you are a dog or a midget bull; then you begin to make jest of my name. That is not a way to treat a stranger.’ Lucky said to Bonzo.

’ There is no need for you to insult me either. What did you want to see me about? Why were you calling?’, Bonzo stiffly asked, taken aback by the angry response.

’No reason in particular. I just noticed that you are new here and decided to be the bigger dog and to welcome you and to  hello.’

‘ Bigger dog? ‘What makes you the bigger dog?  I am better than you in any way. I have impeccable manners; my owner is richer than yours; and the places I have been you have no hope of getting there. Do you know who I am?  My parents were pure British origin. I was whelped and weaned in a fine Surrey county home, and from where Mr. Johnson, who for your information is my owner, purchased me and brought me here. I am not a common dog, I am a prize canine.’ ‘Bonzo’s indignation was rekindled.

‘This is becoming very educative. I confess though that I was born downtown in a litter of six, to a bitch who belonged to my owner's friend. In any case we are both dogs and we are both here as neighbours, so let us just make the best of the situation. Tell me about those places where you have been, dog.’

 ‘Again, and for your information, I am not just another dog, and the only chance that we have of becoming friends is if you refrain from irritating my sensitivities. As for my travels, I've been to London, Paris, New York, Frankfurt and so many other wonderful places. You certainly don't look like you've ever been anywhere, have you?’, Bonzo growled , clearly not in the mood for making friends.

        ‘ That is true.’ Lucky agreed. ‘Every day I am here. Trubbled Times is the entire place I know; living on leftovers, if there are any; living on hopes if there is none. It is a dog's life.’

‘Don't make general suggestions. I already told you that you and I do not belong in the same dog category. So, do not ever say things like, it is a dog's life. Your life is not my life. It will never be. Do you understand?’, Bonzo growled again in anger

‘ You may look at it whichever way you want; but whether you like it or not we are both dogs. ‘ Lucky shrugged.

’ I really wish that you would not persist in annoying me. I say do not make general statements. I am not the same kind of dog as you. You are a common dog, I am a purebred. Okay, how many languages do you speak?’ Bonzo demanded.

’ I only speak dog language. ‘. Lucky replied, with a soft bark.

‘ See? I speak that even better than you. I can also speak it in English, French. German, Chinese, Russian and Tagalog. Can you now tell me what then makes me equal to you?

’ That is not possible. It is not possible to bark in more than dog language.’, Lucky disagreed.

’ In that case, you ignorant fool, just listen to me bark.’ Bonzo told him. And rearing back, he let out a deep throaty bark which quite startled Lucky.

 ‘ Now let me hear you do it that way. I am sure you cannot ‘, Bonzo challenged. Lucky indeed tried, but all he could manage was a loud high-pitched yelp. Bonzo laughed at the unsuccessful effort.

‘See what I mean? That is the barking of a destitute dog. It is the bark of a dog that is without education. It is the bark of a common dog. Tell me did you go to school at all?’, Bonzo taunted.

‘Not much schooling, I am afraid. I didn't have that much of advantage.’, Lucky sounded defeated. Bonzo laughed at him.

’I will be with you in a moment’, Bonzo trotted away into the house and returned with a large bag. He placed the bag on the ground, unzipped it and took out some very impressive-looking certificates.

.’ Look at this. It is a certificate in Obedience, PhD.; and this one, it is the certificate in Toilet Training, PhD ;and this one is certificate in Passive Aggression, PhD.;and this one a certificate in Vocal Assertion, PhD..’

‘Hold it there, a minute. What the deuce is Vocal Assertion?’. Lucky would not permit himself to be hoodwinked..

‘You are certainly an unschooled person. Ignorant dogs like you would call that barking.’, Bonzo arrogantly explained.

’ So where are all these certificates getting you? All you will need to do, just like me, is to keep watch in the garden, and to get fed as reward.’ Lucky refused to be impressed either.

‘Is that right? I mean the depth of your ignorance surprises me. Tell me, what is your own job description like?’ Bonzo asked; and again Lucky was confused.

        ’ Excuse me; I am not sure what you are talking about. What is a job description? ‘He quite honestly asked.

’ I mean what are your duties. What do you do for a living?’ Bonzo demanded.

’Roughly the same as you I am sure.’ Lucky muttered.

’ That is what you imagine. Still you persist in your general impressions. Roughly the same you say, but does it have any hope of taking you as far as my own job will take me? Do you know where we went for holidays last year? It was to a place whose name you probably would not be able to pronounce. That is how exotic it was.’ Bonzo taunted.

’ Now this is all becoming very boring, dog. You have a dozen certificates that don't really mean anything to me; you can bark in several languages; but really in the end where does it take you in life? Certainly no further than me, I am sure; no further than watching your owner's front garden.’ Lucky reprimanded.

‘ Of you I also ask the same question. How far will not having those certificates take you in life? Now let me tell you something, my Mr. Johnson, that is my owner, is soon going to get me a mate. Can you say the same for yourself?’

’ Not so, unfortunately..  But what do I need a mate for? Why do I need another mouth to share already meagre meals?’ Lucky confessed.

’ That is exactly what I thought about you. How can you afford to have a mate when you can't even figure out what to do with one?’ Bonzo laughed at him.

’ Even though that is not incorrect, I would not exactly put it the way you seem to be thinking.’,

’ How would you put it then? Clearly, the truth is that you look so indigent and hopeless. What manner of sensible mate could be attracted to you? Tell me again, what does your job promise you?’, Bonzo was certainly determined to be nastier.

’ Not a lot, admittedly. Mr. Salami’s demands of me are really very simple. Many times I even think that he wouldn't miss me if I disappeared. But I do not have the heart to leave him alone on his own, even though he is a thoroughly miserable person.’. Lucky miserably explained

         ‘It seems like you admittedly see no purpose for your life. That is sad, very sad indeed. As for me, after my owner finds me a mate, I should have some little puppies of my own and raise them to become top dogs just like their father.’ Bonzo snorted .

’Very nice to have puppies of your own if you think that counts as a life purpose. I have been useful in  my own ways though. I have been in this town for years and every dog and their puppies know me. I am upright and forthright and quick to help when anyone needs a hand. I enjoy this. I enjoy helping others.’, Lucky honestly replied.

’ And how far has that taken you so far? Not much of a hope as I can see. ‘ Bonzo contemptuously replied.

’Not very far I know; but often, the rewards for labours of love are ever stored away and waiting in the future.’ Lucky told him.

’ Labours of love indeed.  It hasn't made you a penny richer, and hasn't earned you any medals as far as I can see. And I have got several of those medal things too. All it seems to have done is make you poor. Is that what you call a reward waiting in the future? No, you must certainly be mistaken.. my foolish chap’ Bonzo snorted. ‘

’ You may look at it all in whichever way you want. I have gained more than a few friends though and I think they are worth more than all the riches in the world. These are quite hard times, and I and my friends share compassion and our discomforts. We give one another a shoulder to cry on, as it is said. To one another we are the plan for the future.’ Lucky sighed tiredly. He had never in his life met so obnoxious a dog.

’ Plan for the future? Pah! What do you need friends and plans for? I've got everything I want. I have a good house ‘,Bonzo waved his hand to the beautiful house of his master behind him. ‘ I am given good food; I will soon have a good family of my own; and I don't see what friends should have to do with all that. Life is so competitive, you know. It is dog-eat-dog game; and you have to be on top of your tricks to survive and stay ahead.’, Bonzo emphatically pounded the top of the fence with a clenched paw.

’ You never know though. Sometimes life does unexpected things to you and you can only wonder why. For that you will be grateful for a mere word spoken in compassion.’ Lucky tried to convince ; but Bonzo strutted haughtily back and forth along the fence.

’ Don't confuse yourself with this laughable attempt at fine thinking, you foolish dog. When the chips are down, it is always every dog for himself.’ Bonzo growled.

Their unfriendly conversation was interrupted by the sound of a small gong coming from inside Bonzo’s house. Bonzo halted his fretful pacing and started to .bark, excitedly.

’It is time for my breakfast. It is time for breakie-breakies. After that, and since it is Saturday today, ,Mr. Johnson takes me for a walk. I have to go now. See you tomorrow, dog.’, he said over his shoulder to Lucky as he raced off into his master’s house.

’ See you tomorrow then, dog.’, Lucky sighed tiredly . He slunk away from the fence and lay dejectedly on the porch of his master’s  house.; his thoughts were dark and morose:

‘ Lucky dog; he has gone to eat breakie-breakies. He's right though. It is quite a big horrid world out there and a dog needs to stay on top of his tricks to survive. But why am I beginning to detest him so much? He certainly is a pompous and ugly beast that ought to be put in his place, taken down a step or two. I certainly would love to see that happen to him, even as nasty as that sounds of me. I wonder what he's having for breakie-breakies. It smells good. Maybe Mr. Salami will come home today, maybe not. If he does not come I shall again sleep hungry and dream of great feasts as I always ever do. I can smell the beakie-breakies of that lucky bulldog and it deepens my agony. There is certainly not a lot of justice left in this world’, Lucky sorrowed.

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