Under the fable issue 2 final

‘Short for nemesis.’

In a few days, Nem was roaming the grounds and acquainting his hosts with his nocturnal behaviour. He was also discovering his voice, rehearsing hoarse howling each sunset. It did at least scare Bob’s Jack Russell into hiding. Jack’s father made his way a mile across town to their bungalow, one hand holding a beer the other in his pocket.

‘Don’t expect me to look after it.’

‘Too busy dad?’

The next thing Bob was at the door. Bob knew all about dingoes and what they’d done to the town in the past. Apparently years ago, before Jack was born, the town was surrounded by them. Farmers would shoot them and hang them from fences for crows.

‘That’s a wolf you got there.’

‘We’ll try and keep him quiet Bob.’ ‘You gonna stop a roo jumping?’

Jack would take Nem for long walks in a harness and leash in the hope he’d be tired at night. Sylvie even came home at lunch times woke Nem up and walked him. It was to no avail.

‘We might as well try to change the behaviour of a bat.’

Sylvie’s mother phoned and offered to look after him when they couldn’t.

She walked him hurriedly to the house. Her mother ran her fingers over Nem’s taut ears.

‘Why don’t you bring Jack over for dinner on Friday?’

‘Are you sure mum?’

‘Course. We’ve not seen Jack in so long.’

‘Can we bring Nem?’ ‘You better had.’

The same week Jack and Nem were in the local paper. The firefighter who rescued a dingo. At the cement plant someone wrote ‘Dingo Dundee’ on his locker. He took a little persuading to accept the dinner invitation. He always felt wanting in conversation but now he had a story to tell about Nem. On the Friday lunchtime Sylvie was throwing a ball to Nem as Bob was setting up the barbeque over the fence. The Jack Russell was making a noise from the other side of Bob’s conservatory window. A woman emerged and walked down Bob’s garden clutching a lemonade in one hand and her tummy in the other.

‘Hi. Bob’s my dad.’

Sylvie’s hesitated while she noticed the visitor was plainly pregnant.

‘I’m Sylvie.’