Blink Dog - a new Australian story. What happens when you can't leave your dog behind? You can find similar work on my website: http://redtailedblack.me
*Photo by Ruby Schmank on Unsplash*
**Blink Dog**
*by Mitchell Reese*
He was just a pup when we got him. A tiny ball of brown-white fluff, and I loved him instantly. We all did, but right away he became mine.
Dad took on training him. First the papers in the laundry, then walks around our neighbourhood. He did all the puppy things that young dogs do: shoes and socks and leather purses – nothing was safe. We loved him through it all.
Dad was firm – he approached having a dog like he did everything – methodically and with great enthusiasm. Our dog listened to him – but he loved me. Sometimes, I’d only have to think something and the next thing I knew he’d be doing it.
It was my sister who gave him his name – Marlo. After that, nothing else seemed to fit.
Puppies grow, which is what Marlo did. He was almost 6 months old when the strangeness began.
My sister and I were riding to the park near our house. It was only 10 minutes on a bike, but at 8 I felt very brave going on my own. Doubly so to have my sister to take care of – I made sure she could keep up with me. At 5 she’d only just learnt to ride, and couldn’t zip fast like I could.
Dad was always telling us to lock the gate, that we couldn’t afford to let Marlo out. He was so worried that I triple checked it before we left. Everything closed tight, Ellen and I peddalled towards the park.
We were half way there when Marlo caught up with us.
“Look Mark! Marlo!!!” Ellen shouted.
Whirling around, there he was. We didn’t make it to the park that day, and turned back to take Marlo home.
Dad was pretty upset, though looking back I think it was impossible for Marlo to have gotten out. Probably for any other dog, it would have been. Dad made us promise we’d check 4 times the gate was shut. The next day, I helped dad board up some ‘holes’ under the fence. Personally I couldn’t see how Marlo escaped, but at 8 years old I was all about making dad happy.
That would have been the end of it, except that Marlo kept getting out. Sometimes he’d appear on our neighbour’s lawn, others he’d just sit on the other side of the fence, tongue hanging out like he was laughing at us. Most often he’d wait until everyone left our house, then appear running after us. Dad said he was a regular old houdini.
Marlo followed us everywhere – to the swimming pool, the shops, our school. It was the darndest thing, and didn’t seem to matter where we left him or how we tied him up. Somehow he always got out, even slipping out of his collar if he needed to.
“At least he won’t be picked up by the pound!” Dad joked. Except he was.
We got a call from the council when he was 8 months old. For some reason his microchip wouldn’t scan, and his collar was missing again. One of the council workers recognised him however, and called us as soon as he came in. My sister and I went with dad to get him, and there he was – sitting in a kennel looking dejected and forlorn. He didn’t get out again for a week after that.
It wasn’t so bad when he got older, but as a puppy he’d turn up anywhere. That time at the library was the worst…
At 8, I loved going to the library with mum. I read all the time, sometimes spending hours curled up with a book.
That afternoon we tied Marlo up at home, making sure the gate was closed. We told him to stay, and that we’d be back soon. Mum, Ellen and I pedalled off on our bikes, taking the long way by the harbour to the library. Marlo didn’t follow us.
At the library I combed the kids section, grabbing a dozen books to look through. After setting Ellen up with a ‘Where’s Wally’, I curled up on the leather beanbag to read about pirates and starships.
I’d just gotten to a really good bit – a pirate ship shooting into the sun – when I felt something warm nudge my leg. Annoyed, I turned to the side. I was just getting settled again when the ripping began.
It all happened at once then – my sister yelling “Marlo!”, the libarian running into the kids section, my dog chewing books stacked next to me – my mum with her face buried in her hands. It was a long time before we were allowed back in the library again
That night Marlo was in disgrace. He slept outside, and missed out on dinner. The next day he was fed, but wasn’t let back in again – I think mum meant to keep him outside. Ellen and I snuck him back in. It must have made an impression though, Marlo stayed in our yard for 2 weeks after that.
By the time Marlo was a year, he didn’t get out as much. Looking back though, I think he was just getting better at not being seen. My sister Ellen however kept coming up with the weirdest stories.
It was a weekend towards the end of summer, and I had been at the park all afternoon. Sitting at the kitchen counter eating cookies with milk, Ellen marched into the kitchen.
“Marlo just blinked across the yard!” she yelled “And gimme a cookie!” At 5 Ellen yelled everything.
“What?” I said.
“Gimme a cookie you rat!” yelled Ellen, snatching at one from my plate. Ellen wasn’t very good at sharing either.
I wrestled the cookie from my sister, then got her another one from the cupboard.
“What do you mean, Marlo blinked?” I said, sure this was just another Ellenism. She could mean almost anything, and often did.
“Marlo was by our cubby then blinked to the tree!” Ellen blurted. The tree was on the other side of the yard.
I sighed. “You mean YOU blinked, and Marlo ran to the tree.” I said patiently.
“NO!” Ellen yelled. “HE blinked, and was at the tree.” She stamped her feet, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip. The kid was adorable, and I tried hard not to laugh.
“Ok Ellen,” I said, “lets go climb our tree.”
Ellen’s face brightened like the sun behind a cloud, we grabbed 2 more cookies and ran out back to climb our favorite tree – a big twisted gum with lots of low branches. Ellen was good like that – easily distractable where climbing was concerned.
As a kid, Marlo was always there – often showing up just when he was needed. I remember my first fight, and how very badly it might have been if Marlo hadn’t appeared.
I was 11, and Marlo was fully grown. A big, brown and white dog that looked like a bear. His snout was short, with stubby ears, massive paws and a long, wagging tail. Ellen would often ride him, and when we played Marlo would always tumble me over. He was a gentle giant though – I hardly ever remember him growling or snapping at anyone, and never got even a scratch when we were playing.
One day after school, Danny Morgan tried to pick a fight with me. Danny was mean, and had always hated me. At 13, he should have been in year 7 or 8, but had been held back. I was the youngest kid in year 6, having started school early. Good at reading, I also came first in maths – Danny hated me for it.
Mum said his parents might hit him at home, and we should be kind to him. Sometimes he came to school with odd bruises and scrapes – once even with a black eye. I thought it more likely he was picking fights with the high school kids – Danny was mean and loved to show it. I could imagine him pulling the wings off of small flies, then laughing as he watched them struggle. It was very nearly what he and his cronies did to the younger kids each day – only the teachers kept them in line.
I tried to ignore him, but being a bright kid in class didn’t help. School was dull enough as it was – I couldn’t sit still when a question needed answering. My hand usually shot up first. Whenever we had a substitute teacher Danny would hit me with spitballs. Luckily our teacher didn’t go away much.
It was a Thursday, and we’d just gotten back from lunch. Melissa was handing our tests out to everyone – she was a prissy girl who loved being right. With a flourish she dropped the papers in front of me, then flounced off. Holding my breath, I looked at the mark: B+. I’d done alright. It was a hard maths test, and I hadn’t studied much the night before.
Glancing around the room I caught site of Danny Morgan. He was reading his test like it wanted to bite him, his face nearly in tears. I started feeling sorry for him. Just before I looked away, he caught me watching him, a mask of indifference slipping over his face. Danny crumpled his test and threw it behind him. Then he looked at me and grinned, smacking his fist into a hand. From 5 seats away I heard him whisper,
“Tonight worm, after school – you’re gonna get it!”
Later that day the bell rang for home-time, and we filed out of the classroom. Danny bumped my shoulder as we left.
“Oops!” Grunted Danny. “So sorry maggot – didn’t see you there.”
I pushed past him, and made my way down the stairs. Out front the school was a bustling madness of kids, parents, bikes, and a few dogs. Usually Ellen walked with me, but today she had gymnastics and Mum would get her. I crossed the street and started home.
It was only a 20 minute walk – I usually cut through the park and a couple alleyways to make it shorter. Sometimes I stuck around to talk to friends and play footy on the field, but today I headed straight home. I didn’t want to see Danny or any of his mates.
On the block turning into Clarence street, I heard the footsteps. Big, heavy boots hitting the pavement – the kind of boots that liked to kick people when they were down. Glancing behind I saw Danny and 5 of his mates. I walked faster.
“Hey maggot-brain! Where the PISS do you think you’re goin’?”
It was Danny who yelled out, with laughs coming from his friends. It didn’t warrant a reply, but I walked faster. So did they.
“I’m talking to YOU dickless. Come ‘ere!”
I’d been studying karate the past year, and knew a few ways to look after myself. But 6 on 1 wasn’t good odds. I doubted whether I could take Danny on his own, let alone with 5 of his mates. I was in trouble.
The footsteps got quicker, and I bolted into a dead sprint. Jumping the curb and hurtling into the park, I darted through trees and around the fountain.
“Hey ARSE-WIPE, get back here!” Danny bellowed, pelting along behind me.
I’d almost made it to Carlton street when one of them grabbed me. It was my bag that did it. Just as I jumped a log at the edge of the park, one of Danny’s goons grabbed my backpack. I hit the ground, rolling to get up. A boot slammed into my gut. Big, black, heavy. My breath whooshed out, and I lay gasping on the ground.
“Pick ‘im up boys!” said Danny. Three sets of hands grabbed me, hauling me along. Danny leered as I was dragged over the gravel.
“Kid,” he said, “I’m gonna screw you up good.” Witty dialogue wasn’t the bully’s strong point.
Danny and his mates hauled me back into the park, behind some bushes near the large rocks. I’d spent many hours spying on people from there – it was hard to see from the paths.
I knew Danny could hurt people. He had beatten up an eighth grader when he was in year 5. With 2 of his mates pinning my arms, I didn’t stand a chance. I’d like to think I fought and made it difficult for them, but I was too scared. To be honest, I’m lucky I didn’t wet my pants.
“Prop him up boys.” said Danny, taking something bright and shiny out of his pocket. Brass knuckles? Who even wears those? Apparenty Danny did.
He was just sizing me up, wondering how to do the most damage, when something shifted. I don’t know how else to describe it. One moment I was standing with Danny and 5 of his mates, and the next there was a shimmering in the air. It felt like heat and – something else. Suddenly, standing next to me was Marlo.
A deep growl erupted from his throat, and the dog hurled himself from me. The goons ran – they all did – but Marlo landed on top of Danny. The kid’s screams were high pitched, but I was too stunned to feel much sympathy. 10 seconds later the shock had worn off – I grabbed Marlo’s tail and hauled him away.
Danny was a mess – torn clothes, dirt in his hair. He scrambled back away from us, grabbing a big stick from the ground.
“Get your dog off!” he screamed. “I mean it!”
Danny held up the stick – Marlo growled. The kids’ face went white, and Danny bolted into the bushes, dropping the stick with a cry as he went.
Immediately, Marlo stopped growling, and started wagging his tail. All smiles and laughter, he looked over at me as if to say, Who, me?
“Come on mate,” I said, “let’s go home”.
That night dad got a call from Danny’s dad, saying he was gonna sue us and get that ‘mongrel’ put down. The police even came round, but charges were dropped the next day. Despite some torn clothing, Marlo hadn’t actually hurt Danny. No bites, only a few scratches from the sticks and bushes. Turns out the police told Danny he better stop trying to beat up younger kids, and left it at that.
When I told my parents the whole story, Marlo got steak for dinner. We all made a fuss of him. Marlo didn’t mind.
I knew dad wouldn’t believe me, but Ellen got it. Later that night we whispered together in her room.
“He wasn’t there one minute sis, and then – he just appeared!” I said.
Ellen nodded sagely.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” she said. “He blinked.”
I couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.
It was late September – springtime – in my 14th year when the train roared into our lives, leaving sadness and wonder behind.
Ellen was 11 going on 22 – already a teenager and full to the brim of sassiness. We’d decided to go on a family bushwalk, only at the last minute dad didn’t come – something about work and needing to finish a report.
There was no question about Marlo coming – I’m not sure we could have stopped him if we tried. It was always easier to invite him in the first place. Mum and Ellen were in the front, with my dog and I crammed in the back of her small car. Marlo loved sticking his head out of the window, his tongue lolling in the breeze.
We got to the park – a long stretch of bushland by the sea – and Marlo started sniffing trees. Finding the best place to leave his mark was a favorite pastime. He let us go ahead, then bounded after to catch up.
Ellen led us, choosing a looping trail that wound high up on the cliffs above the sea. My backpack held our lunches, water, and some doggie treats for Marlo – we were planning a picnic at the top. Once there the view was spectacular, with the ocean wrapping around the coast on the curved peninsula we stood on. We unpacked out picnic and started to tuck in. Around us came the sounds of birds, waves crashing far below – and a steam engine whistle in the distance.
My sister loved trains – particularly steam engines. I had to smile – Ellen had chosen this route because it would bring us near the steam engine tracks that ran on the weekends through this park – part of the ‘scenic getaway’ packages advertised from our town. The girl wasn’t interested in dolls or dresses, but give her a tree to climb or a train to ride and she’d be all smiles. I loved my sister, though she could be infuriating at times.
As soon as the whistle sounded, Ellen couldn’t wait to get moving again. Despite it being a half hour walk to the tracks, and that the train would be gone by then, she started packing away our things. I sighed. Arguing with my sister was like fighting with a bull – and just as painful. Marlo gave me a weary look, then bounded after Ellen as I put away everything from our picnic. There was no stopping her sometimes.
Mum and I followed Ellen down the track, winding through tall gums and sheltered woodlands. We skirted a pond, and found ourselves looking down a steep drop to the train tracks below. Ellen was up a tree, shinnying out on a branch overhanging the drop.
“Ellen!” Mum called. “Get down from there!”
“It’s alright Mum,” cried Ellen. “I checked the train times and another one’s due soon. I just want to get a good look.”
Sure enough, a train whistle sounded in the distance. Ellen’s eyes brightened, and with a manic light grinning in them she crept further along the branch. I put a hand on Mum’s arm.
“Don’t worry Mum, she’ll be fine. Ellen’s always up a tree.”
Mum looked on with worried eyes, and the sound of the train grew closer. We couldn’t see it from where we stood – there was a bend the train would have to come around first. Ellen crept out even further – and with a loud SNAP, the branch broke.
“EEEEEEEKKKKK!!!” She screamed, plunging down the bank. She hit the edge, sliding on the branch down the slope. Gravel skidded with dirt, leaves, and branches – Ellen screaming all the way down.
“Ellen!!!” Mum cried, trying to find her way down the slope. I dropped my pack and started scurrying down as well, but finding a way was tricky – I didn’t want to go how Ellen had.
My sister came to a stop at the bottom of the slope, tumbling down the hill and onto the railway tracks.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow owieowieowieowie owwwwwwwww!!!!” she yelled. Ellen scrambled up, crashing down again as her ankle gave way. The girl screamed. As if in answer, the train whistle sounded again – shattering the bushland with a roar. It was coming around the bend.
“ELLEN!” screamed Mum.
A steam train rounded the corner, its horn announcing the arrival. I was just ahout to throw myself down the slope – perhaps if I could get there fast enough – but Marlo was faster. An odd shimmering, a flash of movement – and something shifted. Then it was Marlo on the tracks, with Ellen above me on the trail.
The train never slowed. Later we wondered if the conductor even saw Marlo. We didn’t hear the impact – the train was too loud for that. It was some time later when we found our dog.
My sister wasn’t hurt badly – cuts and bruises, her ankle only slightly twisted. With mums help we got her down to the bottom where the tracks were, there was a path only a few hundred metres down the trail. It took some time to find Marlo.
He was lying on his side, whimpering, and looking up at the sky. There was no blood, but he didn’t seem able to move. It was hard to see with all the tears in my eyes, but I started looking him over, prodding gently to find where he was injured.
“Please Marlo.” I said. “Please be ok.”
But he wasn’t. The whimpers grew quieter, until Marlo was still. We needed to get help, but there didn’t seem to be an easy way of moving him. I’d just gotten my phone out to call dad, when something… changed. A shifting, shimmering rocked the air, bright colours dancing around my head. High above I saw an enormous figure – a man – walking through the sky.
“Here boy!” said a deep voice. A whistle, and from Marlo’s still body rose a brightly coloured, glowing dog. As it leapt skyward the glowing dog grew to the size of the man – and then they were gone. I remember staring for a long moment, but when I looked back down at Marlo, he had vanished.
Dad didn’t understand when we told him – how could he? Yet he didn’t question that Marlo was gone, and that something bad had happened to all of us. It was heart breaking to see him try and cope – dad never really did get anything out of the ordinary.
Three weeks later it happened. We were sitting around the tv, watching a funny cop show when we heard his bark. We all paused, listening until it came again. I picked up the remote, muting the tv so we could listen. There was a scraping sound from the back door.
Dad opened it, and a wash of colours jumped inside. It was like being bathed in liquid sunlight – a warmth that reached into my chest as well as my heart. Through the room spilled a dog shaped beam of multi-coloured light. It sounded and felt like Marlo – I can’t describe it anymore than that. It ran once around the room, jumped up to lick my face, and then was gone. In the distance came a dog’s joyful bark, a low whistle – then silence.
We sat still for a very, very long time, the tv light – forgotten – playing over our stunned faces. When we finally moved, it was to sit close together on the couch, turn off the tv, and cry . For grief, sadness, joy… and wonder.
*Thanks for reading! You can find more of my stories and music from my website, http://redtailedblack.me*
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