3
An hour after returning home,Grace finally admitted there was nothing else for it—she would have to give Stanley a bath.
The little dog stank to high heavens. Grace could only wonder how long the poor creature must have been roaming around as a stray to end up smelling so bad. His breath was terrible too, although it probably hadn’t helped matters that she’d fed him a can of tuna, which was all she could find in her cupboards that seemed like a reasonable meal for a dog. With his ribs visible beneath his fur, it was obvious he hadn’t eaten properly for a while, and Grace wasn’t about to let the dog go hungry any longer.
Since finishing his plate of tuna, Stanley had been happily panting and burping as he roamed Grace’s kitchen and living room while she tidied up after preparing her omelette and took care of a few chores around the house. The moment she settled on the sofa with her laptop and study materials, Stanley plonked himself down on the floor at her feet, gazing up in apparent adoration.
The waft of tuna dog-breath mixed with the aroma of smelly canine fur made it impossible to get any work done. The sweetlook on Stanley’s face as he peered up at her was irresistible, and Grace couldn’t help smiling at his goofy expression.
“If you’re staying the night, we need to do something about your smell, Stanley,” she told the dog as she got up from the sofa. “I bet you’ll probably feel better after a wash, too.”
Stanley let out a yip and wagged his tail.
“There’s nothing I can do about your terrible breath, except regret giving you that tuna to eat, but let’s just deal with what we can, hmm?”
Grace grabbed towels and a bottle of shampoo, hoping her human brand was okay to use on a dog. Stanley put up a bit of a fuss when she put him in the bath and turned on the shower attachment, but soon settled down once the warm water was running over his fur. Grace winced at the grey detritus that was dislodged from his hair before she’d even started shampooing, but the look of bliss on Stanley’s face once she was massaging his grubby fur made her heart melt for the poor animal.
When she’d finished washing and rinsing him and he caught her unawares by shaking vigorously before she had time to rub him with a towel, leaving both her and the bathroom drenched, her sympathy for the little guy inevitably cooled.
“Thanks for that, Stanley,” she said, blinking water droplets out of her eyes as she did her best to dry off the wriggling mutt, who was now determined to get out of the bath. “You’re a bit of a menace, aren’t you?”
Once she’d rubbed Stanley with the towels, he was still damp. Taking a risk, she carried him into her bedroom and turned the hairdryer on him. Canine alarm soon turned to enjoyment once the warm air was blowing over his body and Stanley consented to this additional salon treatment for a few minutes. Once he was bored with the dryer and again wriggling to get free, Grace accepted she’d made as much progress as possible with his hygiene and cosmetic procedures and called it a day.
Stanley hurried downstairs, his little legs scrambling over the risers, and then dashed to the back door where he stood glancing at the handle in expectation. When Grace opened the door, Stanley shot outside, racing across the small patch of lawn and rolling on his back while making funny chuntering noises and then springing to his feet and running in circles, looking very pleased with himself.
“You enjoyed having a nice wash then, I take it?” Grace laughed.
Stanley barked.
From the other side of the garden fence came a sudden volley of barks in reply.
Stanley looked startled for a moment and then rushed towards the fence and launched a return volley of barks of his own.
The peace and quiet of the lovely summer evening vanished as Stanley and the dog across the fence traded barks and yips. As the fence was made of solid slats of wood to ensure privacy between the gardens, it was impossible for the dogs to see each other and size one another up properly, and so the barking simply continued, getting louder and louder.
“That’s enough of that racket, Elsa!” a woman shouted on the other side of the fence. “Where are your manners?”
“Stanley, cut that out!” Grace said simultaneously, hurrying over to haul him away from the fence before the barking got any worse.
As an exchange of grumpy growls was traded through the thick slats, a face appeared at the top of the fence from the other side.
“Well, hello there,” said the woman who’d appeared there.
She was an older lady with a stylish bob of silvery hair and a bright smile. Grace didn’t recognise her, although as she spent so much time at work, and engrossed in her studies whileat home, the truth was that she only recognised a few of the faces she saw around Foxglove Street. Making friends with her neighbours hadn’t been high on her agenda.
But surely this wasn’t the woman who lived in the terraced house on the other side of Grace? She might not be great at socialising, but she was certain her neighbour was far younger than this lady. Was this perhaps her neighbour’s mother or a friend or something like that?
“Hello,” Grace replied at last and smiled, hoping to get to the bottom of the mystery of the unknown neighbour who’d appeared across the fence.
“Sorry about Elsa,” the woman said. “There’s never been a dog on either side of this fence before, and I think it took her by surprise to realise one was over there now.”
Grace kept her hands on Stanley’s wriggling body in an attempt to calm him down. “I don’t think he means any harm.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He looks like a nice little fella. What’s his name?”
“Stanley. Well, that’s what I’m calling him for now, anyway. I don’t actually know his real name. I found him wandering around outside on the street and looking lost when I got home from work.”
“Oh, that’s terrible to hear!” The older lady peered further over the fence at Stanley. “I don’t recognise him, and I know many of the dogs who live around here. Hang on, let me ask my friend if she knows anything about this.”
