No dog, dog.

“Why is everyone looking at me?”

“You're the only person who can look after the dog.”

Everyone nodded.

“I can't look after the dog, what do I know about dogs?” Which was an interesting question, seeing no-one knew who I was.

“It's easy,” chirped Simon.

“Then why don't you do it?”

“We have a cat, they'd fight like, well, cat and dog.”

“I cannot look after the dog!” I broadcasted loudly.

The dog looked at me. 

Everyone looked at me.

I ended up looking after the dog.

We didn't get along very well at first. She did her business all over my carpet, then trailed pee all through my lounge.

I wasn't happy, to say the least. Neither was my carpet.

Then again, if I'd been landed with some weirdo, through no fault of my own, I'd probably pee and poop on their carpet too. Not really of course, what human would do that? (rubs chin. Not the dog's chin, let's just make that clear). 

If I was a confused and disorientated dog I probably would, (pee and poop on a stranger's floor, not rub my chin).

This conversation I'm having in my head seems to be going off on a weird tangent, good job no one else is in here with me. Now that would be weird.

The dog follows me everywhere. Probably checking I'm not going to pee or poop anywhere I shouldn't. That's her job.

I can't seem to go anywhere without her lurking like my shadow behind me, waiting, watching. 

“What? Seriously, what?” I ask her. 

She cocks her head, but doesn't answer. That would be weird too. A talking dog. Now there's an idea. If I could get her to talk, everyone would want her, and I'd be able to go back to getting on with my quiet and weird life.

Problem is, I don't know how to get the dog to talk. In fact, I don't know how to get the dog to do anything. Except eat, she is very good at that. 

“You and me both pooch, you and me both.” I stare down at my oversized belly, wobbling as I walk from room to room.

Now here's the thing. The dog apparently belongs to a friend of mine, who was rushed into hospital late last night. Strange though, that no one actually knew she had a dog. I've been friends with my friend, (let's call her Julie, it's not her real name, I'm just trying to protect the innocent), for 40 years, and she never once mentioned a dog. I'm not even sure she knew she had a dog, because when asked, (though to be fair, she was being pumped with various medications at the time), she said no.

But there the dog was.

My friend's brother Simon (his real name, I don't like him much), suddenly appeared when he heard an ambulance had taken my friend in. We have no idea how he found out. And we've established that the dog couldn't tell him, so it's a mystery.

Once he'd realised that his sister was going to be okay and just kept in for observation, he was no longer interested and made excuses to leave. Definitely without the dog. Probably his cat needed walking or something. Which left me and the neighbours to sort out the logistical stuff, like getting my friend clean underwear, door keys etc. No one else wanted to venture into her house for some reason, and then of course there was the dog.

So here we are, in my living room, looking at each other, fidgeting like you do on a first date, me and the dog.

Now you'd think the story would end there, wouldn't you, but no.

After a fretful night, of the dog pacing my now stinky and stained living room, me trailing behind making sure no doo doo or pee pee appeared, there is a knock at my door.

Considering it's only 6.30am, an ungodly hour to be awake, (at least without coffee and a hobnob), I go bleary eyed to peep through the curtain.

I have a very nosy neighbour, who can't help poking his ore into everyone's business, and I expected it to be him. He'd want to know why I'd got a dog.

But no! No indeed. Standing there was a tall, good looking guy, who I'd never seen before, large as life, right outside my front door.

‘Oh dear’, I thought, ‘have I accidentally grazed someone's car again whilst absentmindedly reversing?’

The dog started nosying through the curtain. "Get down" I whispered loudly. 

She barked.

The guy turned to look at the window.

I pulled back, trying to avoid his gaze, tripped over the dog and fell backwards, thankfully landing on my oversized behind, but with a great thud, and great embarrassment. The man peered at me through the window, which was now fully exposed. I'd dragged the curtain with me, revealing my entire living room, complete with wet patches.

“Can I help you?” I asked sheepishly, but loudly so he could hear me.

He grinned. I'm sure he said "I've come for Lucy".

“There's no Lucy here,” I shook my head. 

I looked at the dog, "unless?" I pointed at her.

He nodded, "Yes, that Lucy".

“Aaahh.” Somehow something started making sense, but I wasn't sure what yet.

“And you are?” I asked, still through the window.

“Her owner”.

“Her owner? So what was she doing at my friend's house?”

And that was how I discovered that my friend had found the dog wandering around her back garden late last night, (Lord knows how it had got in there in the first place), and reported it to the police, who'd contacted Craig, her owner. He sent my friend some flowers, and had felt so bad Lucy had done her business around my house, that we're going on a date this evening as a ‘sorry about that’ gesture.

Now, what to wear? 

Who's chewed my blue sweater?

And in case you're wondering, it turns out that my friend is allergic to dogs, which is why she was suddenly taken ill. Who knew? She didn't, until last night.

So she ended up in hospital, and I ended up on a date, weird how these things work out!