Chapter 2
At 12.50 p.m., Steeve pulled up outside an old red wooden bungalow situated on the corner of Richmond and Selley Roads in a quiet neighbourhood. It had a white front door, faded dark green roof tiles, and the red exterior paint job was agonisingly parched and desperate for a lick. There was a faint smell of freshly cut grass in the air, although, looking around, he could not see a patch of green grass anywhere on that street. The old property was surrounded by steel fencing that had leaned in towards the house, which made him wonder how it kept an angry Doberman at bay. He edged closer to the gate with his wits about him, paranoid – good start to his new career as an Animal Behaviourist! There was no sign of Bruno yet; the only sign of a dog was an actual sign of a dog, which read: “BEWARE of the dog”.
“Hello?” a grainy voice said from the front porch. Steeve was so involved in his reconnaissance journey to the gate that he hadn’t noticed Patrick already waiting for him at the front door.
Steeve froze. “Oh …” He was still hunched over with his knees bent. “Hello, my name is Steeve, I’m an Animal Behaviourist and I was called to this property about an aggressive dog. Are you Patrick by any chance?”
“Yes, that’s me. What are you doing?”
Steeve was trying to play off his awkward stance by scratching his left hamstring and feeling around his back trouser pockets, pretending to be looking for something vitally important.
“Ah ha!” he announced, holding up a piece of paper. “How lucky was that?” he thought to himself for actually finding something in his pocket. This, however, didn’t have the effect that he thought it would. If the situation was awkward before, then it just got a whole lot worse.
Patrick was visibly wary of this strange little man approaching his house. “OK then, please do come in.”
Once inside, the men exchanged pleasantries and the situation with Bruno was explained again, this time in greater detail.
“I simply do not understand what’s gone on with him,” said Patrick, “he used to be so well behaved.”
Steeve wasn’t listening, his eyes had snatched his attention from the conversation and drifted around the mess of a house that surrounded him. He couldn’t believe somebody lived in that dump. After a few minutes, he realised that Patrick wasn’t talking anymore and quickly said, “OK, so where’s the little fella, then?” Another awkward moment passed, slowly. In all honesty, he didn’t care for the lengthy stories about what may be causing the mutt’s discomfort. He figured the only way to find out was to have a little chat with Bruno himself.
“He’s through here,” said Patrick, leading the way to the next room.
And there he was, lying on an old woolly blanket.
Steeve’s immediate thought was that Bruno might have simply been cheesed off about the appalling state of his bedroom/living quarters – sometimes you don’t need to be a genius or have super-human abilities to figure things out. Prepare for Steeve’s complimentary life lesson: Be attentive to your surroundings, some answers may just be under your nose! Back to the story, though.
The blanket was caked with dust and animal hair – not wool as previously assumed. There was a dense atmosphere in the room; the kind of atmosphere experienced by all five senses. The window on the far side of the room begged to be opened. Steeve held back a cough, or was it a gag? He wasn’t sure, but he had an awful taste in the back of his throat and didn’t wish to reveal either reflex.
“Hey, Bruno, up and about, boy. This man has come to help with your anger issues.” Patrick chuckled a little at the last bit of his sentence, then added, “I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,” and left the room.
“There aren’t any anger issues to help with, you old fart!” said a very frustrated voice.
Steeve was still watching Patrick’s exit but the outburst turned his attention to the dog. “Bruno, I presume?”