Rescue Me

My mother wanted me to get a dog, in case I was lonely. But instead, I’ve ended up with two cats

- Teresa Ashby

I’ve never been the sort to apportion blame, but it’s probably my mother’s fault I’m stuck on the roof, clinging to the chimney-stack for dear life. I wouldn’t be in this position if she hadn’t insisted I get a dog.

She said a dog would keep me company — like Bruno, our lovely chocolate Labrador, did when I was a lonely, friendless six year old.

But I’m not six and I’m not lonely or friendless. I told her I wasn’t lonely, so she changed tack and said a dog would ensure I got daily exercise.

I blew that argument right out of the water. After the divorce, I’d moved to a different town and got a job at a different school. I lived quite a way from my new school and as Trudy got custody of the car and I didn’t live on a bus route, I had no choice but to walk.

“That’s not healthy exercise though, is it, Kelvin?” Mam said. “Walking on hard pavements isn’t good for your knees, and don’t get me started on traffic fumes.”

“I’ll walk to work across the fields then,” I said.

“Now you’re being facetious. You can’t go wandering about in fields on your own, it’s not safe. A dog would protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“If someone tried to attack you, a dog would scare them off.”

To hear her talk, you’d think I was some sort of ninny rather than a 40-year-old, six-foot-three burly geography teacher.

Maybe not quite so burly since the divorce and the extra walking.

“I can’t have a dog when I’m out at work all day.”

“You could if you moved back home. I’d look after it for you.”

I can’t say I wasn’t tempted, but this coastline is home to me now.