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o, I’m not going out again. I’m staying right here, thought Jake closing both eyes and settling back into his nap. His face and body were being gently warmed by the sunlight streaming through the French windows; his favourite spot for this time of the day. Besides, he and the others had decided that they were on strike until walk times resumed normality. Charlie had explained the concept and they had committed to refraining from their usual duties. Her footsteps were getting louder, thudding across the wooden floor. They stopped with a squeak of trainer on laminate. Then Jake felt his skin tighten as she began to drag him across the floor. I’m staying here. You go out if you want. I don’t have to go with you. You used to leave me here alone while you went out, and you were gone all day. I was ecstatic when you returned, thought Jake as his body began to slide a couple of inches towards the front door. Not being propelled by one’s own volition was a most unusual sensation. He sank his weight into the floor and the movement stopped. Her muffled voice was getting louder and shriller. He shifted his head and opened one eye. What little he could see of her face was turning pink. Her green eyes blazed above the face covering. She kept glancing over to that rectangular silver-coloured toy. She was obsessed with that one. It talked to her all day and sometimes Toby’s voice talked from it. It was usually in that corner, where he wasn’t allowed anymore. She was usually angry over there. That’s why he liked it over here… sigh. He was thrilled when she started staying home, especially since Toby left. If only Toby was here. I shouldn’t have a favourite, he thought, but Toby’s special. The footsteps retreated, so Jake settled back down again. Peace at last, let sleeping dog lie, he thought. A heavenly sausage aroma accompanied the returning footsteps. Jake lifted his head and grinned, as drool began to pool on the floor. He stood up and padded towards the sausage treat she brandished as she moved towards the door. Sneaky and a tad unoriginal, but I’ll go with it. The 36 TVO
JAKE AND SAL BY JANINE FOLEY
others will understand, thought Jake. She grabbed the small rectangular black talky toy, with which she was also obsessed, as the keys rattled and the leash clicked into place. The scent of eucalyptus was strong as he padded into the warm sunlight. At the park, Jake spotted the others. Bailey, lured by a bacon treat; Ruby, chasing her beloved tennis ball, and Charlie, the champion of the strike idea, was attempting to hide behind a tree. We have no resolve, no backbone. Just as well we’re not running the country, thought Jake while wagging his tail.
Sal’s mask made her skin feel warm, each breath warming it further. It was uncomfortable, but necessary. She relished this half hour break, scheduled in between Zoom meetings. The work day blurred into home life these days, but this trip to the nearby park gave her a sense of freedom and normality. The vet said that Jake needed to lose a bit of weight and that regular exercise would help the arthritis in his poor old legs. When they first brought him home all those years ago for a delighted ten-year-old Toby, Jake had been a lively bundle of blonde fur with a grin as wide as Toby’s. Those happy, carefree days seemed a lifetime ago. Sal’s beloved husband, Brian, had been gone five years now. His big, generous heart finally gave in after years of struggle. While her world crumbled, their time spent at the cardiac ward had inspired young Toby to become a nurse. He said that he wanted to help people, day in, day out. He wanted to be there to help
them get well again. That was Toby, completely unselfish and generous like his father. She was so very proud of him, but also beside herself with worry. After qualifying, Toby had moved to Melbourne to take his first nursing role and was now working on the frontline. She looked again at the photo he had messaged her weeks ago. A Tobyshaped hazmat suit wearing a face mask and face shield from which his unmistakable hazel eyes smiled. Of course, the photo was his attempt to reassure her, but the reality of his nursing life on the frontline had hit her hard. Tears regularly soaked her pillow as she cried herself to sleep. He tried to phone every Thursday night, usually quite late, and she found herself struggling to settle until she had spoken to him, or preferably, seen him on a Zoom call. Jake would join her, wagging his tale and grinning at the sound of Toby’s voice. “Please keep him safe,” she found herself saying aloud to an anonymous deity who might be listening. Some people are like the petals of a flower blown in the wind, they fall apart easily, she thought. She liked to think she was strong, but losing Toby... Tears began to sting her eyes. Jake nudged her hand gently, his brown eyes gazing up at her, and his familiar grin prompting her to return a smile. She stroked his silky ears. A kookaburra laughed its loud whooping cackle, which carried from a distant gum tree. The mobile phone buzzed again. Three more messages. It was time to get back to work. Reassuring snores arose from Jake’s dog bed, while one of his back legs kicked out from time to time. Sal brandished the remote as she clicked impatiently through the TV channels. It was Thursday night and, as usual, she was struggling to settle. She had turned the volume up loud on her mobile phone to make sure that she heard Toby’s call; if he was able to call. The situation in Melbourne was worse than ever, as the media reminded her regularly. There’s never anything to cheer us up on TV, she lamented. Switching to Netflix, she began browsing again. The mobile phone buzzed. Sal checked the message: Hi Mum, Zoom call at 10.00pm? Half an hour until Toby’s call. Sal replied
