Bailey

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“Don’t worry, Bailey won’t bite,” she said, with a smile that displayed her perfect white teeth. The dog was displaying his teeth too, or should I say fangs. He was an ugly mutt, a large, slobbering Alsatian-y type thing that had taken an instant dislike me to me. What dog owners don’t understand is that people who don’t like dogs, don’t like dogs. We know that you love your little Shep, or Rover, or Tiffany, but we don’t, and no matter how many times you reassure us that they are friendly and they won’t do us any harm, we still freeze at the sight of them and would prefer it if you put them on a lead and got them out of the way. I was lingering in the doorway having a staring contest with Bailey that I was losing. If looks could kill, I was a dog’s dinner.

“Grrrr,” Bailey said.

“Bailey,” she reprimanded him. “Don’t worry,” she smiled at me again. “He won’t do any harm.”

“Ah, but I will I harm him,” I said.
“Sorry,” she said.

“Well, I do like a bit of dog for me dinner, and this one looks like he’s got a bit of meat on him.”

I could almost see her synapses firing as she processed my words.

“Delicious with a little bit of horseradish,” I said. “Not the sauce, the fresh stuff, grated.” I kissed my fingers.

I could tell she was having difficulty reading my face.

“Of course puppies are better, Bailey might be a bit tough at his age.” I smiled for the first time.

“You’re sick,” she yelled. ‘Sick.”

“I was only…”

“Get the fuck out of my shop before I call the police.”

Bailey growled again and took a step closer to me. I let the door go, it tinkled as it closed behind me.

I guess I’ll get a haircut someplace else. I said to myself.