Man's Best Friend I love my dog. Fucking great he is. I’m telling ya, when I’m walking around with Bruce on the end of the leash no cunt dares to go near us. Rottweiler he is. Bloody thoroughbred and hard as fuck. Like me. No cunt messes with me. But, like I was saying, no one dares to go near me when I’m taking Bruce for a walk. They don’t know that when I gets him home he’s like a bleeding pussy-cat. He’ll slobber all over you when you stroke him, you know. But you look at me twice when I’m out with him and you’ll be hearing the bastard growl at you. Just take a glance at the bleeder after that and I’ll be struggling to hold onto the cunt. Four years I’ve had him now. Bruce has never hurt anyone, not that he hasn’t tried to. I leave him out in the garden in the summer, or if he’s moulting, and all ya hear all fucking day is the bastard barking his head off. Twice I’ve had to fix the wooden fence we’ve got, because of Bruce breaking it open in places. Tough cunt he is. Just like me. Me wife Lizzy has never liked Bruce. She’s always said that Rottweiler’s are dogs that just aren’t fit to be owned by people. Still, like I said, old Bruce has never hurt anyone. I come home from work and he’ll jump up to me and practically knock me off me feet. But that’s with love, ya know? I’ll be recoiling under the bastard’s weight and he’ll just be licking me all over, fighting for me attention. Hey, I’m not stupid, I know its not just from love for me that he does that. I watched this programme on the telly once, yeah, that says that dogs like to sniff ya and lick ya when ya come in because of all the, like, scent that’s on ya. To them it’s like getting the daily paper to see what’s going on, ya know? But you can tell with Bruce, that he really misses ya when ya come in. It’s like, when he’s got all his like, input, of scents and that, he still won’t leave ya alone. Lovely he is. Mind you, as I was saying, I wouldn’t like to be the cunt that tried to break into my house, I can tell ya. You should see the bastard growl just when someone’s outside the door. It’s like, eerie. He’ll be lain by your feet, all quiet and that and then his head’ll slowly rise up. It’s like a way of knowing that someone’s there before they even ring the bell, you know? He’ll slowly turn his head towards the front door and this really deep growling comes out of his throat. Doesn’t even bare his teeth or nothing. Just this deep growl, like a fucking engine. I tell ya, it shits you up the first time ya hears it. Seeing all that menace that’s capable from the heavy fucker, and he’s not even got up. It’s like you can almost feel him tensing up, ready to spring up on some cunt and tear the wanker’s throat out. But then, once the bell goes he’s like any normal dog, ya know? Gets up, starts running around ya feet while ya go to answer the door. All excited to see who it is, ya know? As I said earlier, Liz has never liked Bruce. Even before I got him she was coming out with all these fucking horror stories about Rottweiler’s that tore kid’s faces apart and turned on their owners and shit. I told the stupid bitch that that was just when the owners were too fucking stupid to look after the dog’s properly. Ya got to give the fuckers love, exercise and discipline, and not necessarily in that order. I’ve given Bruce the odd whack on the nose when he isn’t behaving himself in the house, and I chucked him outside when he was a pup for shitting in the house. The nose is the best place to whack ‘em though. It’s, like, the most sensitive part of their body. Except for maybe the bollocks, but then, as I said, I’m not fucking stupid. You hurt the cunt like that and he’s gonna hurt you. Me and Bruce are sorted though. He knows who’s boss and respects it when I tell him to shut up, sit down or whatever. Except when I take him for a walk, but that’s just excitement, ya know? I mean, you should see the cunt when I take the lead off the hook in the hallway. Practical knocks me down, jumping all over me, wanting to get outside. I’ve practically got to hold the cunt down to get the lead on his collar. You don’t so much take Bruce for a walk, more pulled along by the bastard, you know? Mind you I can always hold onto the bastard if there’s any bother. Like another dog barking at him or some stupid cunt giving me the eye or something. Like I said, he’s a hard cunt, just like me. Some pricks see this big hard cunt out with his fucking big dog and they just looks at us funny, ya know? I don’t know what it is, jealousy I suppose. I talked to Liz about it once and she says it was something about Bruce being a fucking penis-extension or some bollocks. I just told her to shut the fuck up and hurry up with me tea. Still, its nice coming home to Bruce. It’s like, that unconditional love, ya know? I mean, I always know that when I get home from the building site that that big bastard’s gonna jump and slobber all over us as soon as I get in the door. All I get from the fucking wife’ll be fucking moaning. Liz’s pissed off at the moment because we just found out that we can’t have any kids, or should I say she can’t have any fucking kids. The hospital said that some shit fucked up her womb or something when she had a miscarriage last year. I told her not to let it get her down, if she’s that fucking desperate we can bloody adopt or something. But it’s like she didn’t hear a word I said. She just stood there balling her fucking eyes out, shaking her head. I would’ve give her a clip round the ear and told her to shut the fuck up but I could see that she was like, upset, ya know? Fucking Bruce was sorted then, though. It’s like, ya know dogs are like slightly, psychic or something, they pick up on peoples emotions. I seen something about it on the telly, I think. She was there crying her eyes out in the kitchen and Bruce comes through from the living room and just walks straight up to her. She didn’t even know he was there, ya know, because he came through so quietly, and he just starts rubbing his head up and down her leg, like, soothing her. He even starts making this little whining noise himself, sort of like in sympathy with her, ya know? Fucking great he is. Still, that’s the way it is at the moment. I’m fucking knackered by the time I get home every evening from the building site. I’m getting up early and coming home late, covered in fucking dust and bits of cement and shit, and Lizzy’s just moping about the whole fucking time. I had to give her a good clip round the ear last week because there was fuck all for me to eat when I got home. It was the first long shift I’d done. Normally I’d get home about five o’clock and me dinner’d be there in front of us by about half five. Gives us enough time to get settled, ya know? Get changed, read a bit of the paper, have a fag in front of the telly, see what’s on in the evening or whatever. Anyway, like I was saying, last week I comes home and good old Bruce’s leaping all over us a bit more than usual. I think he was a bit worried because I wasn’t there the normal time, ya know? Then what do I hear? “Where have you been?” it’s like some fucking old witch screeching at us. “Where the fuck do ya think I’ve been?” I says, indicating to her how fucking filthy I was. Me clothes are a mess and I’ve even got fucking wood-chips in me hair for fuck’s sake. Where the fuck does she think I’ve been? “Well, ya could’ve told us,” she says, a bit more warily now. She’s seen that I’m not happy with her fucking yelling at us like that, “I ‘ad to throw ya fuckin’ dinner away!” “Why’d ya fuckin’ chuck it for?” I asks, tensing up a bit. I mean, this was the first time I’d worked such a long day, ya know? Getting up at six in the fucking morning, taking Bruce for a walk, working all bleeding day and getting home at eight o’clock just for a bit of extra fucking money. I tell ya, I’m not gonna be doing it for too long, no matter how far behind on the job we are. If the foreman don’t like it I’ll sort the cunt out. Maybe go down there one time with Bruce, barking away at him. That’ll shit the cunt up, having too hard bastards on his case. Anyway, Liz told us that she’d stuck me dinner in the oven for a bit, not knowing when I was gonna be back, ya know? But after about an hour it had all dried up to fuck and she said she’d had to throw it in the bin. “Why di’n’t ya give it to Bruce?” I asks the stupid bitch, “he’d ‘ave lapped the stuff up.” “That’s not the point,” she says, getting all pissy again, “I’m not goin’ shoppin’ till tommorra an’ there ain’t fuck all left in the ‘ouse!” Well that it was it. Fucking, bang went me fist into the stupid bitch’s gob. While she was sobbing away I managed to sort me self out with a fucking sandwich. No food in the house my fucking arse! Just because the freezer was practically empty the stupid cow thinks she can’t make me anything to eat. I mean, I says to her while I’m making the sandwich: “Well, what the fuck’s this then if there ain’t no fuckin’ food in the house!” She didn’t have no answer to that, did she. Just stormed off upstairs crying her eyes out. Anyway, that was last week. Lizzy knows what time I’m getting in now and she’s sorting me dinner out at the moment. She’s still got a face on her like a bleeding wet blanket, though. At least Bruce was his usual friendly self when I got in this evening. He’s lain down by me feet at the moment looking up at me with that absolute loyalty that ya can only get from a dog, ya know? I remember when Lizzy used to look at us like that, when we started first going out. It was usually after a shag, ya know, when I used to come out with all this bullshit about what a great future we was gonna have and how we were special, different from everyone else. See, ya don’t have to come out with all that sort of crap to keep Bruce happy, just give him his dog-food and take the fucker out for a walk twice a day and he’s fucking ecstatic. I mean, with dogs, even if ya treat them like shit they’re still always loyal to ya. I knew one cunt, he used to kick his dog in the guts all the time, just if it was, like, looking at the stupid bastard the wrong way, ya know? And that dog still used to wag his tail whenever the cunt decided that he wanted to stroke it for a change. Mind you, I’ve always treated Bruce right. Like I was saying, love, exercise and discipline, that’s what you’ve got to give to a dog. And not necessarily in that order. I remember one time Bruce started barking at one of Lizzy’s mates one time. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time but this bird Judy was a bit of a pot-head or something, into her wacky baccy and all sorts of fucked-up drugs and shit. Anyway, like I was saying, normally Bruce’ll give a bit of a menacing growl when some cunt’s coming to the door but he’ll shut up once they’ve rung the bell, ya know? Except if they don’t ring the bell. That happened one time. There were these kids, I don’t know who the fuck they were or anything, but they was hanging around outside the front door. At first Bruce was slowly lifting his head and growling, like he does, so I’m thinking, ‘I wonder who that is?’ Anyway, this time, the fucker don’t stop growling and he even heaves himself up onto his feet and starts to walk towards the door. I shushes the cunt up and tells him to stay, which he does. I mean, it was good that he was being all territorial and that, ya know, but I didn’t want to scare the cunts off before I sees who it is. So, with Bruce stood in the hallway looking over at me now and then as if to say ‘can I bark or not, ay?’, I creeps into the kitchen where I can look out the window and see who’s by the front door. It was a couple of kids, like I says, both boys, maybe about nine or ten. They were debating over whether to knock the door or not, or more like, which of the two would, ya know? They was obviously planning on knocking the door and running off. So I sneaks back round to Bruce and gives him a nice stroke and slowly walks him over to the door. You should have felt the bastard, he was tense as fuck, just raring to get in there and rip some cunt’s face off. He was desperate to jump up and start barking his head off but I kept shushing the bleeder. That’s the discipline, ya know? Any other cunt and their dog would’ve just leapt up and gone fucking mental, but me and Bruce’s relationship’s fucking sorted. Anyway, we get to the door, me ducked down so the little bastard’s can’t see me though the window in the top half of the front door. I reaches up and grabs the lead from its hook on the wall. I thought I’d lost then, I can tell ya. Bruce always goes fucking mad when I takes that lead down. But like I says, its like he’s fucking psychic or something, reading my thoughts. He didn’t move a fucking inch. So I clips the lead on his collar and that’s when the little cunts finally ring the bell. I jumped up quick as lightning and practically throws the fucking door open. Bruce went ballistic then, saliva dripping from his dark mouth that was, like screaming these endless barks out. The two little wankers had already run about half-way across the garden when they turned round, both frozen to the spot in sheer terror. It was fucking magic. I could barely restrain Bruce so I thought fuck it, and we both ran towards the little cunts. Fucking hell, I’ve never seen anyone move so fast in my life. Those kid’s fucking shit themselves and were nowhere to be seen in seconds. As soon as I got to the front gate I shut it to make sure Bruce didn’t run after them and then just stood there pissing myself with laughter. What was I thinking before that, though? Oh yeah, that drugged-up mate of Lizzy’s. I’m telling ya, if I ever caught her going anywhere near that stuff she’d get what’s coming to her, I can tell ya. Yeah, anyway, Bruce just kept barking at this Judy, right, just wouldn’t let up. I thought at the time that it was for no reason, ya know, I’d never seen him like that before. At least, not in the house anyway. He could probably smell the blow or whatever it was and he just went mad. Mind you give him his credit, he didn’t bite her or nothing, just kept running round her barking and growling. The stupid bitch was shitting herself. Lizzy told me to get him to shut up, so I did. Not that I normally take any orders from no bitch, mind, but Bruce was starting to annoy me as well. So I gives him a tap on the nose and he shuts right up. Ya don’t even have to hit him hard because it’s like a sensitive part, ya know? Bruce is all peace and quiet at the moment though. I smile at him and he gives me a little ruff as if to say ‘all right mate?’ I’m feeling a bit nasty and dirty in me work-clothes. Normally I’d take ‘em off and whack on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before I gets settled but this past week I really haven’t been arsed. Too knackered working these long shifts, ya know? I can see dust and tiny bits of wood on the carpet and the sofa where it’s come off of me clothes. Not that Lizzy’ll say anything about it. She knows better than that by now the stupid bitch. I sneeze. Shit, maybe I should’ve got changed after all, fucking dust’s getting up me nose now. I’d go up and have a shower but by the time I got back down me dinner’d be cold and I’d have to have a go at Lizzy about it and maybe give her a quick slap to sort her out. I can’t be dealing with no bad atmosphere tonight though. I just want to take it fucking easy. Bruce is staring at me that way that he usually does when I sneeze. It’s like its something strange to him or something, ya know? When ya sneeze he looks at ya as if you’re a fucking stranger or something. A bit unsettling but after about a second or so he wags his tail and he’ll lick your hand when ya pat his head, to reassure him, ya know? I bend forward to give Bruce a little stroke and my head crashes forward with another sneeze. I look up and see that I’ve sprayed a big wad of snot right onto the poor fucker’s face. I can’t help but laugh at the poor thing. He’s looking at me with this, like, confused look on his face and this big hunk of snot’s just dribbling down his cheek. I sneeze again in the middle of laughing and start to have like a sneezing fit, ya know? I just can’t stop me head crashing backwards and forwards with sneezes. I know its unsettling Bruce but I can’t help it. Snot’s dribbling down me face and I keep sneezing. Bruce is growling at me from somewhere but I can’t see him, my eyes are all watery. He’s started barking now and it’s sort of funny, ya know, its like his barking’s in time with my sneezes. I can’t stop sneezing and Bruce won’t stop barking. I bring my hand out to try and calm the fucker down and end up whacking the poor thing round the face. He whines and then starts growling again as I get myself under control. I wipe the snot from me face onto me jumper with one hand and rub me eyes with the over so that I can see. Bruce is sat in front of me, facing me. His ears are back and he looks totally tense, ready to pounce on me. “Easy Bruce,” I say, trying to control my fear. Dogs can smell fear, ya know? I bend forward to give him a reassuring pat on the head. I sneeze again. I can’t believe it. Bruce has gone for me throat. Blood’s going fucking everywhere. His growls seem to vibrate through my whole body as he tears me neck apart. What the fuck is going on? He’s on top of me, I can’t get him off, there’s nothing wrong with Rottweiler’s it’s just bad owners, love, exercise and discipline’s all they need, I must have got them in the wrong order, come on Bruce, good dog, it was only a fucking sneezing fit, what the fuck is he doing? I get one last glimpse of me best mate sat on me lap on the sofa. He’s staring into my eyes with blood dripping from those oversized fucking sharp teeth of his, his head’s inches away from my torn apart neck. As Bruce pants I can smell me own blood being breathed back into me face. I try to do something but its all going black. Bruce’s growl becomes a roar as he comes back for more.
Copyright © 2001 Glen Pearson |