Charlie and Max

Max and Charlie

Max disappeared on Wednesday morning. I knew it was Wednesday, because the rubbish men were emptying the bins into the truck at dawn. Loudly. As usual. The pungent smells of the liberated rubbish were enough to raise the dead, if the clanging and crashing hadn’t woken them already.

My early morning nap had expanded into a luxurious late morning lie-in, but eventually, it was time to stretch, yawn and wander into the dining room for a spot of breakfast.

Max had been ill, but I’d seen him last night, settling down to sleep. He had stared at me and said, ‘I can see you clearly tonight, Charlie,’ Then he closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds. Now I couldn’t find him. I called. No reply. The house was quiet, except for the sound of the washing machine under the sink, chuffing and chugging, spreading its disgusting, foamy, cleanliness. I hate that whirring, juddering machine. Its evil. I dream I’m caught in its soapy embrace and can never escape.

No one home. Someone had spilt juice on the breakfast table, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. The house smelled of the nasty chemical spray that the cleaner uses. It spreads a chemical patina on top of the deeper, smells of sweat and breath and laughter, like a layer of plastic over a flowerbed. Talking of flowerbeds, we have a very small garden, nowhere to hide, but I went out and looked round anyway. No Max.

I walked back into the front room. The curtains were drawn. Where could he be? He couldn’t go far these days. When he did walk, he trod carefully, as if the carpet was made of broken glass. And he would walk in circles. Not his usual purposeful circles, but random circles with his head cocked to one side, as if smelling his way instead of looking. All the family had noticed. He was also sleeping much more than usual. He told me his head hurt, and he couldn’t see very well.

He must have gone out. He’d be back, and I had nothing pressing to do. I curled up in my favourite armchair for a pleasant mid-morning nap. I’d barely closed my eyes when something jogged me awake. I blinked and there was Max, staring at me with his big orange eyes.

‘Hey, where you been?’

‘What’s a brain tumour?’ he said.

He’d got me there. I was the clever one, but I’d never heard of that. It seemed important, so I didn’t make up a plausible answer, which was the best way to satisfy Max’s curiosity. ‘Why do you ask?’

Max blinked several times. ‘They kept saying it. They took me to the vet this morning.’

‘What, again?’ I said. ‘Still, they usually treat you well there, don’t they?’

‘Huh, not me. They treat you well,’ said Max. ‘You get a manicure or a haircut. I get injections and endless prodding. And what about the time they pumped my stomach, and I had to stay overnight? That was hell.’

I gave him my superior look. ‘I told you not to eat that sweet brown stuff left over from Easter.’

‘But the little one liked it so much; I wanted to try it. It tasted of smoke and burnt grass and made me thirsty. It was very moreish. How could I know it would make me sick? The children ate it by the block. I only had a few squares.’ Max fixed me with a stony stare; he could never quite manage a full death stare. That was my speciality. He went on. ‘And…and there was the time they cut out a bit of me. An important bit. I remember. It hurt. A lot.’ Max trailed off and looked pensive. ‘I couldn’t wee properly for ages.’ He snorted. ‘And, after that, I lost interest in sex. Odd, because I enjoyed it a lot before that.’

He was right. They’d cut me open as well, a long time ago, but it was all a bit hazy. The bright hot fire of sex was now a small, pale light a long way away.

We were both silent for a moment. ‘Anyway,’ Max continued. ‘Today was my third visit this month, different vet again, I didn’t like her, she smelt of garlic, fried food and that awful lavender shampoo.’

‘Yuck. Still, better than the coal tar stuff our family uses. Shampoo is weird. Maybe it stops their hair falling out. They don’t get fur balls,’ I yawned and stretched. ‘Tell me what happened today, then.’

‘They tricked me. They hid the wicker box with wooden bars in the kitchen and when I came for my food, the big one ambushed me and bundled me in. I never stood a chance. They both did their soothing noises, but it didn’t fool me. They seemed extra sad; they usually try and stay upbeat, although the big one always complains about the cost. So, into the car I go. I made a fuss of course, but it made no difference. I just hoped they weren’t going to leave me overnight again. The little one went with me in the car. She was crying; she was asking the big one not to do something. The big one said they had to; it was best. They argued and the little one lost the argument; she got very upset. She wanted to come to the vet too. But her mother said it was better if she didn’t. Then she cried some more as she said goodbye to me, and they dropped her off at school.’

‘I don’t understand when they say they have to do something,’ I said. ‘Why? They only say it when they don’t want to. Just don’t do it. What’s the problem?’ I stretched myself out. ‘They’re not very flexible.’

‘Yeah,’ said Max. ‘They box themselves in all the time,’ He put on his funny, fake human voice. ‘They’re like, ‘’Are you going out or staying in? Are you going to eat your food or leave it? Make up your mind.’’ How can I make up my mind? What does that even mean?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I said. ‘Yes or no. In or out. Alive or dead. Why not both? Or neither? They can’t stand ambiguity or wait to see how the world turns. They’re not as clever as they think.’

‘Anyway,’ said Max, ‘We got to the vet and had to wait a few minutes before she could see us. The yappy little dog from two doors down was in a box next to me, so I had some fun teasing it. Such fun. Yapyapyap, and the humans told it off. It actually tried to blame me. Dogs are so… righteous. So, my turn came to see the vet and I braced myself for the usual; you know, thermometer stuck somewhere uncomfortable, dancing on the scales to get weighed, maybe an injection,’ Max paused sadly. ‘But today, the vet said this ‘’brain tumour’’ thing, and everyone was quiet. They just looked at each other. The mother started crying. Why do they do that?’

‘Don’t know,’ I said. ‘Don’t care. But I’d love to know how they do it. So useful. You get a guaranteed cuddle and caress. I wish I knew the secret.’

‘Yeah, dogs can do the bit with the eyebrows; it gets them out of a lot of trouble, but they can’t do the water round the eyes part.’ Max looked into the distance and his voice dropped. ‘They took me next door to a room, smelling of fear and sadness. The vet stuck a needle in my leg and left it there. I started to feel drowsy. Then she stuck something over it, but I didn’t care. I felt like I was sitting in warm sunshine on a summer’s day preparing for a nice nap. I closed my eyes and saw an amazing light show. Remember the game we used to play? We’d both close your eyes and try and see the same light patterns? I liked that game, it was so cool; no one else understood…’ His voice tailed off, and he sat silently for a while.

I had a good scratch and then Max started up again.

‘They wrapped me in a blanket,’ Max said. ‘And took me into a garden at the back of the house. Nice. Obviously for special occasions. One of them was doing more of the crying thing and her tears splashed on my fur; they tasted of love and sadness. They put me on the grass while the vet got another injection ready. I nodded off for a few seconds. When I woke, I jumped up and ran off. They didn’t even notice. I found my way home and here I am. Are they back yet?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Where’s the needle they stuck in your leg?’

‘It must have fallen out.’ Max looked round. ‘This is a lovely home, but where have all the colours gone? Everything is shadowy. I’m going into the garden.’

‘OK,’ I said and turned just as the family came through the front door. They must have picked up the little one from her morning school, because she ran into the room shouting, ‘Oh Max, you’re here!’

The big ones stared at Max as if they didn’t see him. The mother grabbed the little one. ‘He’s not there, sweetie. I’m sorry. We had to leave him at the vet, like we agreed.’

The little one tried to pull her arm away. ‘I didn’t agree,’ she said, glaring at her mother. ‘You agreed. But he’s there. Next to Charlie. Look.’ She pointed at Max, who sat down and stared at her. ‘He’s looking at me.’ The big ones exchanged glances, and one picked the little one up and carried her out of the room murmuring human stuff to try to calm her down. She cried and struggled as they took her upstairs.

‘I’m glad I saw the little one again; she’s my favourite person,’ said Max. ‘Now I’m tired. Look, there’s a rainbow in the garden. I’m going to walk on it. He sniffed the air. ‘The other end is a good place to have a nap. It feels right.’ He walked off into the garden. The sun had come out, and the leaves were shivering in pleasure. The garden smelled of life and rain and flowers, like petals tickling the inside of your nose. I could see the grass growing. I wanted to stay a while longer.

‘I’ll catch you later,’ I said, as he ambled towards the base of the rainbow. I know what’s on the other side of the rainbow bridge and wanted to enjoy wandering round my house a bit more. I’ll see him soon and give him the orientation tour. I’m happy we’re together again.

1900 Words