Stories From The Head

Watching The Dog ”JESUS CHRIST, MOM, I’M NOT A KID ANYMORE!” Sviller was furious. “I’M 86 YEARS OLD, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. It was no use. His mother was dead. He packed his suitcase, and went straight to bed. Sviller was what you might call “a happy gentleman”. His parents were dead. His wife was dead. His son, Zazummiskvatt, had been killed by a hamster a couple of years ago, and all his old friends had travelled to other, more fashionable planets. Still, he had his cat, Nisterpjatt. They were as close as man and cat could get, and were quite a novel sight, walking down the street, talking happily to each other about the weather and other trivial things. (Ah, you may have reacted slightly to my rather casual way of not sensationalizing the fact that Nisterpjatt was a talking cat. This is my privilege, seeing as I am almighty). “Quite chilly today” Nisterpjatt said in an amazingly relaxed manner. “Oh yes” Sviller replied. “I’m glad I had the sense to wear my long-johns”. Oh yes, Sviller was a happy old man. Still, in the spirit of his dead mother haunted him like an angry bumblebee. ”MOM! CUT IT OUT!” Nisterpjatt was reasonably worried about his companion. Sviller’s youthful language when shouting at his dead mother wasn’t at all fitting of a gentleman of Sviller’s calibre. “I think I know what we need,” Nisterpjatt suddenly said, after a particularly uninteresting conversation concerning how different trees and bushes react to different types of weather. ”WE NEED A DOG!” The very next year, Sviller and Nisterpjatt went to the dog store, commonly referred to as “The Dog Store”. “Do you sell dogs here, my good man?” Nisterpjatt asked. “No...” The clerk gave Nisterpjatt an annoyed look (Sviller and Nisterpjatt later debated the possibility that the clerk was reading some kind of erotic literature behind the counter, and didn’t want to be disturbed). “Well I never...” Nisterpjatt wasn’t used to being treated this way. Sviller tried to calm things down. “Are you sure you don’t sell dogs? There was a sign outside which read “The Dog Store””. The clerk had a violent spasm in his left shoulder. “Oh, DOGS?!” The clerk gave a wild-eyed smile. “I thought you said “pharmaceutical products...” Sviller gave him a stern look. “No...dogs!” The clerk reached into a small compartment beneath the counter, and produced a small dog from within. “This is a nice one, gov’nor”. His face was beaming. And he was right. It was a nice one. A bit unorthodox, though. It had three legs instead of two, and no head, but all in all, a nice looking dog. “We’ll take it,” shouted Sviller and Nisterpjatt simultaneously (a trick they had rehearsed for several decades). They brought the dog home, and started watching it. They had baked an exquisite rhubarb-pie, and smoked generous amounts of cigars during the whole event. And they watched the dog. It watched them. They watched it some more. It just stood there, watching, and being watched. When they had watched it for quite some time, they watched it some more. “Well, I’m off” Sviller whispered. Nisterpjatt sat perfectly still. “Ok, you go ahead. I want to watch it some more”. Sviller yawned. “Well, I’m tried. I’ll watch it again tomorrow”. He went straight to bed (his suitcase was already packed). Nisterpjatt smiled as he watched the dog watching him. Sviller, his old friend and companion, hadn’t thought about his dead mother all day. “Fido” the old cat said to the dog. “You are a blessing from heaven”. The dog merely looked at Nisterpjatt. He wanted to go back to the dog store…

Back