The canine companion

A short story by Claire Alexander

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Marie doesn’t trust people who don't like dogs.

She tells Wallace this before they finish their first round of drinks, before he knows where she went to school or whether she has any kids or nefarious ex-husbands.

"I mean. Come on. Who doesn’t like dogs?" She laughs, showing pointy canines, like a terrier.

Quite a lot of people, actually. Wallace thinks. He knocks back the dregs of his pint and says, "I love dogs."

"Really?" Marie’s eyes shine. “What breed is yours?”

Wallace lifts his glass again, realises it’s empty, slowly puts it back down on the bar.

“It’s a... labrador.”

“It?”

“She.” Wallace pulls at the collar of his new grandad shirt, feels something scratch the back of his neck. Did he forget to take the label off? “She. Lucky.” “Lucky the lab?” Marie giggles. “You make me laugh, Wally. Can I call you Wally? Who’s looking after Lucky tonight?”

“My dad said he'd go and let her out for a pee.” Wallace raises a hand for the bartender.

“Same again please, pal.” He slides off his stool awkwardly. “I'll just go for... you know. Tell him to put it on my tab?” Marie smiles. A tab on a first date is a good sign. “Show me a picture of Lucky when you get back,” she says.

Wallace squats and scrolls. No shortage of black labs on the internet, but he needs to choose carefully. Anything in a meadow is out. He finally opts for a puppy sleeping on a sofa, saves it as his wallpaper. “I love dogs,” he mutters.

Back at the bar, he places his phone strategically. “Aww! Is that Lucky? What a wee darlin'.”

Wallace looks at the sleeping creature on his phone screen, tries to understand the attraction. He imagines it — her -slobbering all over the sofa.

"Maybe I'll meet her one day.” Marie leans closer to him.

“Oh, she would love you,” Wallace says.