Christmas is for dogs

(Sensitive content -swearing )

CHRISTMAS IS FOR DOGS

By 3pm the grown-ups, fed, warm and mellow, lolled on the settee and chairs like so many overstuffed turkeys. The Queen’s speech was on the telly, sound turned down. The silence occasionally interrupted with farts, burps and giggles. Occasionally, someone said, “oh, do pardon me,” in a sarcastic voice.Uncle Tony said, “fuck me, one is so terribly rude,” in a high, put on, posh voice, supposed to be the Queen, and everybody laughed.

John laughed soundlessly in his den made with chairs and tablecloth, under the dining table, a retreat from the invasion of cousins. Playing with his new Tablet, still not believing his luck, he had been so bad all year he didn’t deserve to get anything. He had been told he wouldn’t get anything.

“Perhaps a colouring book,” his mum had said, “if you’re really lucky, and I’d have been grateful for that when I was a kid.”

John could hear Casper snuffling and whimpering behind the kitchen door, protesting his exclusion from the festivities. John had pleaded for him to stay in, “it’s Christmas for dogs too, Mum.”

Roy had stood firm for once. “Not with all the kiddies running around. I couldn’t live with myself.” This made no sense to John.

His mum had said, “wouldn’t harm a kid, that dog, gentle as a lamb.” She only cared about Casper when the mood took her.“My dog’ll still be here when you’re not,” she said to wind Roy up and it always worked. Roy sloped off into a sulk, huffing and swearing in the corner like an ineffectual storm cloud. Sometimes he would get up and throw things and start an argument. When that happened John’s mum argued back, laughing, looking pretty and excited, as though she had won the lottery.

John couldn’t see the point of it. “Just ignore her mate,” he advised once out of a sudden impulse to be kind because Roy looked so miserable. “She’s only winding you up.”

Roy had looked surprised. “How old are you?” he demanded; which had nothing to do with anything so John went back to ignoring him.

Casper whined again. John couldn’t stand it. He took a handful of biscuits and slipped into the kitchen. Casper was standing in his basket. It wasn’t just his tail wagging when he saw John. The whole bottom half of his cobby body waggled.

“Here Casp, sit.” Casper sat, his slightly bulging eyes shining with honest affection.He raised a paw. John fed him the biscuits, one by one. “Gentle as a lamb,” he muttered, “it’s not fair.” He tore a few handfuls off the turkey and offered it.Casper accepted greedily. John peered through the kitchen door. Nobody was watching him. He hauled Casper through into the living room and under the table.

Casper snuffling, leant his weight against his arms, knocking him off his game. ““Shsssh, quit it, you’ll go back,” he warned.

After a while, growing bored, John poked his head out, hissing to a younger cousin, “Charlie,” Charlie joined them. Casper greeted him affectionately.

“Look,” John said, “I’m on level twelve already.” Charlie looked suitably impressed. He was still on level six.

“Get the others,” John said “tell them they can come in my den. We’re hiding.”

Soon the space under the table was packed with cousins of different sizes and the dog.Bodies shook with suppressed laughter.

There was a momentary lull in the grown up conversation. “Kids have gone quiet,” Uncle Tony said, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Where are they?” Aunty MIsh asked.

The table shook with concealed mirth. “Oh they’re HIIIIDING!” Uncle Tony said. “Oh Good! Thank you Father Christmas, just what we wanted, a bit of peace and quiet.Let’s not find them till new year.”

“Or the year after,” their Nan said.

“They’re under the table,“ Roy said.He never could follow a joke through.

“Annndd!” he paused dramatically, “if I’m right, which I am, they’ve got the dog under there.”

“They’re all right with Casp,” Uncle Tony said, “surprised he can stand the smell.”

John and his cousins giggled. This had a galvanising effect on Roy, propelling him forward.

“Not having it. What did I say?” he asked John. John ignored him. Roy wasn’t his dad. He deliberately turned his back to block Casper from Roy. The cousins sniggered.

Roy turned crimson, “Casper cmere,” he reached under the table. Casper’s upper lip curled back, warning Roy with a low growl. “See!” Roy said. “See! What did I say?”

“Don’t get outside yourself,” Nan said incomprehensibly.

“Does his best, doesn’t he?” Uncle Tony said to no one in particular, “a bit excitable, hot headed.”

John imagined the top of Roy’s head bobbing up and down like a lid on a pan coming to the boil, steam whooshing out of his ears… any minute now.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Johns mum got up, one hand resting on her belly. Opening the kitchen door, she pointed, “Casper out!” Casper slunk past her. “And you,” his mum said to John, “out here where I can see you! Your aunts and uncle here on Christmas day, and you’re under the table.”

“Exactly,” John muttered, but he crawled out and went to lean against Uncle Tony’s chair.

Uncle Tony brushed his hand over Johns head. “Why do you keep it so short?” he asked. “He looks a proper hard case.”

“That’s because he is a hard case,” John’s mum said.

John smiled.

“Who’s hard? You? Hard?” Uncle Tony jabbed at him playfully. “Soft as butter, you, punch your lights out any day.”

John jabbed back, grinning, “punch your lights out,” he said.

“Always fighting,” his mum said proudly, “boys bigger than him. Only ten and he’s taking on twelve and fourteen year olds. They’re scared of him round this estate.”

“No one messes with our family,” Aunty Mel said.

“There’ll be no one starting around here when my lad’s bigger,” John’s mum said.

Roy sulked, “I’m here,” he said, “no ones going to start when I’m around.”Everyone ignored him. Roy sulked some more.

“Looking forward to your new baby sister, kid?” Uncle Tony was teasing.

“It’s a boy,” John said.

“Noooh!” Uncle Tony said, “It’s a pretty little girl. You can play dollies with her.”

John jabbed at him again, “no way! It’s a boy.”

“If it turns out a girl,” his mum said “it’s going straight back. I mean it.I’m not going through all this just for a girl.”

John jabbed some more, but Uncle Tony had had enough of him. “Ow! Ok that’s enough. Bleeding hell girl, what do you feed him, raw meat? Stop it now. Go and play,” he said to John.

“Never does as he’s told,” Roy complained.

John laughed. He continued jabbing. Chin jutting, eyes narrowed, getting into it.

“Some ones asking for it,” Aunty Mel warned.

“And they’ll get it too. If they don’t stop right this minute,” his mum’s voice was ominous.

John stopped abruptly. He leant back against Uncle Tony, showing off his new Tablet. “Look! Level twelve.”

“Wow! Brilliant, kid,“ but Uncle Tony was bored with him now, turning back to the grownups. “You won the lottery girl, buying him that?”

“Cost us two arms and a leg that,” Roy said

“My lad’ll get the same as every one else’s kids,” John’s mum said “He won’t be the one going without.”

Nan said, “now ‘Lainey don’t be like that.”

“Don’t start,” Aunty Mish said. It was not clear who she was addressing.

“Always thought you were ‘armless,” Uncle Tony said to Roy.

Roy flushed and went quiet, gripping the arms of his chair, and lowering his head.

John sank down besides Uncle Tony’s chair, sitting cross legged. It wasn’t long before people were shouting over each other.A lot of it flew past John’s head, but he caught a few words as though they were wounded birds shot down bleeding from the sky. “Talking a load of bollocks.” “Please yourself.” “Not taking shite from you.” “…talk to me like that.” “…my lad was here…” This last was from Aunty Mel. John’s oldest cousin Dave was well known for being a hard man.

The cousins, sprawling around the television, efficiently dispersed regrouping at the far end of the room. Charlie shuffled over and whispered in John’s ear, “play in your room…come on,” head on one side, smiling winningly.

John shook his head. There was always a chance something would happen and he could miss it.

The argument petered out with no clear winners. People vowed kinship and friendship, allowing themselves to be mollified. Aunty Mel told Roy he was, “the best thing that ever happened to that little family.”Roy told every one who would listen that he had, “nothing against any one here.” Nan said she, “loved the bones of,” all her daughters, and their children, and the men in their lives. Uncle Tony said, “c’mon life’s too short, save the fighting for boxing day.”

Boxing day! John jumped up shouting, “you wait till boxing day.” He punched the air and practised high kicks, occupying the middle of the room, spinning like a dervish. His mum sent him out to calm down. “Go and make sure Casper’s alright,” she said.

“I was going anyway, not because you told me,” John said. Then because that

didn’t seem to upset anyone, “you’re rubbish you are.You’re all fucking rubbish,” He stamped off into the kitchen.

Casper was pleased to see him again, waggling frantically, making happy grunting noises.

“Who’s my friend?” John said, “You my friend, Casp?” He picked up one of the plates piled high with Christmas day remains.Casper whined and pawed at him, John sat on the floor while he ate. Casper cleared the plate in a few mouthfuls. John took one of the paper crowns abandoned on a plate. He wiped gravy off with a finger and put the crown on Casper. It fell. He replaced it. It fell again. Casper sat patiently while John tried to make the crown stay on. Giving the idea up, he and Casper sat in companionable silence, Casper’s head resting on his knee.

They weren’t left alone long. The women entered the kitchen, busy clearing the old food and preparing new food. The men were busy pushing back furniture, sorting out the music, getting ready for the party. Casper was banished to the yard, and John was sent in to, “go and watch telly with your cousins, out of the way.” But every one was too excited and the telly was rubbish on Christmas day.

Running around getting excited, getting told off, it was all part of the day. Pushing each other, play fighting, laughing and dancing, crazy kids, party fever.

Food laid out in the kitchen they weren’t allowed to touch. Nan standing guard over it, “it’s for guests.”

“We’re guests,” the cousins said.

“You’re pests,” Nan swatted at them with a tea towel, “keep those filthy hands off my sandwiches.”

John grabbed a bag of crisps for Casper.

“That dog stays out,” Roy warned, “I’m not having it in here, getting excited and biting someone.”

John slammed the door. Casper shivered in his short fur. John wrapped his arms around him to warm him up.“Not fair,” he said, “gentle as a lamb.”Casper snuffled up the crisps. It was too cold to stay out long. Kissing him on the top of his broad head, John went back inside.

Aunty Lauren and her boyfriend Mark arrived first. Other’s followed. Most of them John knew, neighbours, relatives, girlfriends or boyfriends of older cousins.

The house started filling up, people in the kitchen, in the living room, blocking the way to the bathroom, when he wanted to go. A young couple, heads locked together, in the hall talking mysteriously. Saying to him, “we’re not here. You haven’t seen us.”

Dancing to music, grabbing handfuls of food, Nan by now had deserted her post.Opening the back kitchen door occasionally, letting in icy blasts, to say a few words of comfort to Casper and throw him something to eat.

Circling covertly round the edges of the room, swiping abandoned drinks, the dregs tasted horrible but left a warm, mad, after bite inside. John sank to the floor to explore an interesting, ruby liquid. He was joined by Daft Dan.

“Be smart man,” Dan advised, looking at him through drooping eyes, “don’t be like me, be smart.”

“Be smart,” John repeated. He intended to be.

The air filled up with smoke, a strange sweet and sharp smell drifting throughhis head, buzzing in his ears.John knew what that was. It was alright. It was allowed.

Jokes flew over his head, witty back chat, everyone a comedian. Faces bobbing up in the crowd like pink sweaty balloons through the smoke. Aunty Mel’s hard disappointed face; not even pink lip gloss could improve it. Aunty Mish, what did she have to look so sour about?You had to always be laughing a million times a minute if you lived with Uncle Tony.

Roy saw him opening the back door again, and slammed it shut. “If that dog gets in and hurts someone,” Roy warned, “The game goes straight back to the shop. I mean it.”

Nobody took any notice of what Roy said. John sneaked back five minutes later. He grabbed the turkey carcass, holding onto it with both hands, it was so big.He slung it to the dog in the yard.There! Bloody, bloody bastards!That would teach them. “Happy Christmas, Casp!” John shouted. Casper pounced.

Back inside, the room span. John laughing and dancing like a maniac, nobody noticing, thinking he was just clowning.Being violently sick under the table, missing most of the fight, which started when Dave stumbled into the hall and discovered his girlfriend Kirsty with Aunty Michelle’s boyfriend Mark’s younger brother. Most of the fight took place in the confined hall space, everyone trying to pile in.No one was very clear about who was mixing in and who was trying to keep the peace. John crawled out from under the table and joined the group kicking Daft Dan on the floor for no good reason that anyone could provide later.

Somebody laughed and pushed him away. “Starting young, aren’t yer.” John lashed out. “Punch yer lights out,” he snarled. But the fights never lasted long enough. Mark and Lauren hauled the brother off to Accident and Emergency for stitches in his head. Kirsty followed. Aunty Mel went in search of Dave to pacify him. .

Daft Dan still lay on the floor. Senseless now but he would hurt in the morning.

Moods shifted and changed. Now the party was winding down, mellowing. Music turned low, couples smooching. Grownups way past the smooching stage, his mum among them, started to clear up, and make tea and coffee.

John felt tired. The cousins had disappeared long ago, packed off to bed. He crawled under the table to fall asleep. No one had noticed the vomit. He curled up as far from it as he could manage. His last coherent thoughts were that it had been a pretty good Christmas, better than he had expected.

John woke up feeling cold and hearing raised voices. His head was throbbing. A tiny pulse beat behind one eye with hammer tap precision. The kitchen doors were wide open, and he could hear the sounds of people, shouting. Where?It took him a few moments to realise that the noise was coming from outside. He crawled out from under the table. Daft Dan, the only person left in the room, was sitting, drinking coffee. He focused through one swollen eye, frowning at John. “I’m covered in bruises,” he said, “all over me, what happened?”

“You fell mate,” John said, “What’s the shouting about?”

“The dog,” Dan replied. “All over me,” he repeated, “what happened to me?”

“You’re daft mate,” John called back as he ran from the room. “You’re a fucking dead head.”

Casper! When John got to the yard, he could seea dark shape on the floor.Standing around it were his mum and Roy, Uncle Tony, Cousin Dave, and an unknown friend of Dave’s. When Roy saw John he took his jacket off, using it to cover the familiar shape on the floor. “I’m sorry kid,” he said. He put out a clumsy hand to pat John on the head.John ducked away and threw himself onto the floor, wailing. Casper!His mum knelt awkwardly beside him.“I’m sorry babes. He choked on a turkey bone.”

“Nothing we could do. Some idiot’s idea of a sick joke,” Uncle Tony said.

“Couldn’t have kept it anyway, with the baby coming,” Roy said, “wouldn’t have trusted it around my kid.”

His mum pulled John up. He was still wailing.

Dave’s friend stared hard at him, “didn’t I see you out here with the turkey?” he asked.

Everybody looked at John.

“Bed!” his mum said at last.

“Best place for him,” Uncle Tony said, “my lot went ages ago.”

“You can shut that noise,” his mum warned as she hauled John off, “I’m the one should be crying not you. Casper was my dog.”

3 am, all the grownups asleep in their beds, enjoying the sleep of peace, a well-deserved and hard earned peace; another Christmas day spent and eaten, survived and endured, safely past.

John couldn’t sleep. No use trying. He wrapped cold arms around himself. There was no warmth to be found anywhere. Rising from his bed, he crept into the kitchen. Casper’s basket still sat under the kitchen table. John crawled into it.

Nothing else stirred. It was a blank, dead time of morning. The only sounds to be heard were the usual, creaking, ticking, house noises and the hopeless sobbing of the child, lying curled tight like a comma, alone in the dog’s basket.