Free the Alsatian
It was early, but how early I wasn't sure. The light was harsh, bright and there was that slight cool in the air that promised the harsh heat of midday. Here on the equator sunrise started at 6am and finished at 6.15am which meant that I might have a window of at least half an hour before the family and servants would start the day.
Quietly I dressed in yesterdays clothes but with clean knickers of course. I had got the idea from my mother that if you did not change your underpants something very horrible would happen to your girl parts. This was also conflated with 'what happened to little girls when strange gentlemen got hold of them' or that might have been cannibalism, I wasn't sure.
Outside it was glorious, the dew thick and wet, already starting to steam as the sun rose. The dog watched me with his tongue lolling waiting to be told to join me.
“Skiss” I said and he was at my side.
We set off, I was in trouble if caught as I was strictly forbidden to go out before breakfast but at least I could claim to have taken the dog. He was large and black with orange eyes, neatly playing into local legends of devil dogs and my mother had a belief that he could keep the interfering gentlemen at bay. She wasn't so sure about the snakes though, in fact she had taken me to see a Gibbon Viper in someones vivarium. It had frightened me so badly [so beautiful and so deadly] that I ran to my favorite place in the bush and didn't return for two hours.
I blithely knew her to be wrong to be scared as I always rustled the top of the grass before I put my foot down. The rare [extremely rare] times I met a snake we always gave each other plenty of warning then rushed in opposite directions in mutual disgust.
Today I was going to liberate the Alsatian from the roman catholic priests.
I had been scouting the dog for a week, hiding at the top of the bank at the edge of the bush overlooking their compound. He was a young, noisy animal who was kept on a running line obviously as a guard dog. I was horrified by the line and had decided that that the priests were appallingly cruel and I had to liberate this poor, innocent beast.
It had to be early, first light before any of the natives [priests] were up so that I could mount my daring raid based on the novel 'Kit Carson Indian Scout'. I had also tried tracking people but found footprints didn't last long in the dust and actually checking 'spoor' was so disgusting to be untenable so rescuing the weak was my only chance for glory.
Actually it was easy. The dog had got used to me hanging around and was friendly and wagging as I untied him. Gleefully we ran out of the yard, heart hammering as I waited for the yell raising the alarm. Nothing happened.
I lay in the dust looking over the compound and nothing stirred. Unaccountably disappointed I decided to return home and take my place at the dining table before anyone noticed.
Ceremoniously I gave the Alsatian his freedom and told him that he was no longer tied and enslaved. He wagged happily and followed me.
I stamped my foot and told him that freedom meant he had to go away.
He wagged and followed.
My dog was no help at all. A convicted murderer of pi dogs which cost my father a fortune in reparation he had taken a shine to this large handsome beast and was slobbering with friendly intent.
I ran home stopping now and then to stamp at the dog who adored this game, leaping and gamboling his joy.
We approached the house. I had to get to the table fast so I decided to hide the dog in my room. Climbing through the window I made encouraging noise to get him to follow. My dog jumped in to join me so the Alsatian followed him. I shoved my dog out, so the Alsatian followed him out again. In out, in out. I had either both in or both out.
Breakfast, I had to go to breakfast now before my absence was noticed. Deciding that both out was probably the best alternative I shut the window and ran to my seat in the dining room looking probably no more breathless and grubby than usual.
I hate breakfast and had my usual coterie of pets [minus dog] under the table waiting for scraps and cornflakes, When my father looked at me I would unwillingly put a single cornflake in my mouth and chew unenthusiastically. Mounting irritation always made him look away and then I could shovel the rest into the waiting maws. As long as there was not an actual fight under the table [the cockerel could be aggressive] he let me get away with it as otherwise he didn't have a hope in hell of getting to work in time. I could make one small bowl of cornflakes last over an hour and then yack it up as they had gone soggy.
He looked, I chewed. Time went so slow it droned.
There was a knock at the door.
“I've come to see if you've got the dog” said a jovial Irish voice.
The Alsatian hearing his masters voice came raring around the corner and leaped on him, licking. Traitor. All hope of proving innocence, animal cruelty or loss of memory were completely stymied, The priest looked at me and I gave the priest the same look as I had given the viper. His knowledge of little girls obviously equaled mine of men in frocks and we stared at each other in mutual incomprehension.
“Oh well, thanks for giving him the walk. Next time just tell us, OK”
