Page 22 of Not That Ridiculous

“Well,” I said. “Thanks for the lift. Appreciate it.”

He dipped his chin in a little nod. “Anytime, Charlie.”

I turned the key, put my shoulder to the door and gave it a couple of hearty heaves until it reluctantly opened and I almost fell through.

Kevin laughed and reached out to steady me. Next thing I knew, he was manhandling me off the doorstep and into the hall.

“Oh,” I said, startled. “Are you coming in?”

“Uh, yeah?” he said. “You’re making me latte art.”

“Kevin, I am not?—”

Kevin wasn’t listening. His eyes went wide as he looked over my shoulder. I heard the thud of heavy paws and the soft click of nails as Phil took his sweet time coming over to check on possible intruders.

“Oh my god,” Kevin said. “You have a bear?”

“He’s not a bear, he’s a dog.” I let the gym bag slide off my shoulder and hit the floor. “Kevin, Phil. Phil, Kevin.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Kevin said. “A big dog. A very big dog. Is he friendly?”

I looked at Phil, who was trudging his way towards Kevin with an air of determination, eyes unfocused and drifting off to the side, mouth open and tongue lolling out. “Of course he’s friendly.”

Kevin plastered himself against the back of my body and slung an arm around my waist. “Are you sure?” he whispered in my ear.

I suppressed a shiver. “Yes. He’s a big softie.”

Phil scented the air, licked his chops, and adjusted his steps.

“He’s old and he doesn’t see very well,” I said. It should have been obvious by the way he was staring glassily past us at the front door rather than at me and Kevin, but Kevin possibly hadn’t registered it, as he seemed to be busy being nervous. I twisted to look at him. “Are you scared of dogs?”

“Me? Nah. I love dogs, me, I…eep.”

Kevin had been turning us on the spot to keep me between him and Phil, but while Phil couldn’t see for shit, he knew a potential new friend and cuddle buddy when he smelled one, and he wasn’t fooled. Kevin went one way, Phil faked him out, and when Kevin went the other way, Phil made contact with Kevin’s knee.

He butted him happily then just stood there, panting.

Kevin let go of me and dropped a tentative hand down. He hesitated. “Charlie,” he said. “Can I touch your bear?”

I tugged on the fluff patch on the top of Phil’s head and rubbed his ear. “Of course you can. He makes noises, though, so don’t be put off.”

“What kind of noises?”

I got my hands on both of Phil’s ears and scrunched them.

Phil groaned.

Kevin looked at me and bit his lip. Then he reached out and had a go. Phil groaned louder and slithered to the floor, where he lay suggestively on his back. “Wow,” Kevin said. “What a tart.”

I laughed, even as Kevin went down to a knee to rub Phil’s exposed and quivering belly.

Phil’s tail ticked over the uneven parquet and he folded his big front paws over his deep chest, having the time of his life.

Kevin glanced up at me. “He’s great, isn’t he? What breed is he?”

“He’s a silly boy.” I poked Phil with the toe of my shoe. “And god knows what breed he is. The vet said they can do a DNA test when I first took him in for a checkup and asked, but I’m not curious enough to shell out a few hundred pounds for it. Best guess is mostly Mountain Bernese or St. Bernard because of his tricolour coat and the fact he’s the size of a donkey. The vet also suggested he might have some husky in him because he’s so vocal and his build is a bit gangly. Maybe some Newfoundland too? Bit of Labrador? Who knows? He’s a big shaggy brownish beast with orange and white bits. Good enough for me.”

“Mountain Huskland,” Kevin said thoughtfully. “Berfoundly. Newhuskbern.”

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