Read Online 100 Days of April-May by Edyth Bulbring - Free Book Online

get around to asking Trevor about before he had to rush off to quench his thirst.
    Fluffy says no stress and calls Trevor. The cellphone goes
click
. He phones the number again. It goes
click
. Again. Fluffy does this a couple more times and gets the
click
response.
    Mrs Ho looks in the fridge and sees a gaping wound that requires deep prodding with a rusty nail. She says, ‘And what happened to the groceries I brought home and asked you to please pack away?’ She looks around the kitchen and the lounge and spots Nameless Dog, who is sitting on the couch with his nose still in a stash of supermarket bags, with one eye fixed on
The Dog Whisperer
.
    Cesar Millan is holding a bowl of food at waist height and will not set it down until Junior sits. ‘Dogs must be given permission to eat,’ Guru Cesar says.
    Then Mrs Ho says things like ‘That blinking dog! For goodness’ sake, July, all those groceries!’ and ‘Couldn’t you just do one little thing!’ and ‘This is just the last straw!’ Then she storms off to the bedroom shouting about last straws and absolute limits and slams the door.
    Sam Ho peers into the kitchen and says, ‘What’s all the noise about?’
    I tell him that Fluffy’s been ripped off by the builders – they’ve taken all his cash and run. And that Nameless Dog has eaten all the groceries. And that his mother says it’s the last straw and has gone to rage in the bedroom.
    Sam Ho says that it all sounds like a bad dream, and I tell him that Freud would agree.
    Fluffy gives me a look which says, lie to me, April, please, just one small little fib. And then he says, ‘You think the builders aren’t going to repay the deposit? My cash is all gone?’
    I tell Fluffy that I can’t lie to him (on this matter). What hasn’t already been lost on blackjack at Gold Reef City Casino is being poured straight into the bottlestore as we speak.
    Ishmael pulls a chair out for Fluffy, who sits down and stares over at the couch in the lounge. ‘Ruddy dog,’ he whispers.
    He looks towards the bedroom door. It is shut very firmly. And then it opens and Fluffy’s eyes light up in hope.
    Mrs Ho stands in the doorway with her hands bunched at her sides. Her face is a picture of wrath. She throws a fist out in the air and a pair of Fluffy’s dirty balled-up socks sail into the room. And then she throws out her other fist, which holds a soggy towel – evidence of another filthy habit to which Fluffy is falling prey. ‘I’ve had enough! And this
is
the last straw!’ Mrs Ho points at the soggy towel and then walks out of the front door.
    CROSSWORD CLUE 5 [seven across]:
    A good deal or an agreement in which two people or groups each promise to do something.

Nine
    The Gods
    Nameless Dog and me leave Fluffy and Ishmael staring in wretched silence at each other across the kitchen table and slip off to the park.
    On the way I allow Nameless Dog to snack on some garbage bags – one must learn never to put one’s domestic waste out on the pavement for the rubbish truck until morning – and to file his teeth on a few car tyres – one must learn always to park one’s car in a garage (unless it’s being converted into a bedroom with en suite bathroom for a wealthy soccer-mad tourist).
    The park is deserted apart from a couple of tramps sleeping off their liquid lunch under the plane trees. I tie Nameless Dog to the pole by the swings and lie down on the merry-go-round and stare at the sky.
    I think of Fluffy – alone again without Mrs Ho as his intimate friend. I think of Chez Matchbox without Mrs Ho. I think of Fluffy and me in Chez Matchbox without Mrs Ho. A wave of misery breaks over me.
    Call me soppy or cheesy or even soft, but life at Chez Matchbox without Mrs Ho would be an unhappy space for Fluffy and me. I can’t bear for her to go. Who will wash my clothes? Who will scrub the dirty