By the time she was thirty, Eleanor Clarkes life record listed a torrid romance with James, a tiresome tale with Christopher, and three brief, competing nonsense stories with Daniel, Oliver and Thomas. Ah, and there was also Mr. Smith that was nothing more than a scribble on a community noticeboard. She didnt feel like rereading it.
Eleanor thought, Its not destiny, it isnt fate. She sighed, decided to abandon literature, signed up for a knitting course and headed to the animal shelter for a faithful companion.
Dont you know which one? the shelter clerk asked. Just have a look, youll instantly tell if its yours. Eleanor walked past every cage and pen. Her heart never skipped a beat.
Is anyone else here? And whos behind that box? she asked.
Thats our Lucy, the clerk said, but you wont take her anyway. Lucy, come here! Dont be frightened! From behind the box emerged Lucy, a greybrown creature with black patches, a hunch, a wildlooking snout, more horror than dog, and, lacking a tail, she gave a friendly wiggle of her hindquarters.
Lucys sweet, but you see, theyve already taken her, brought her back two days later, said it would be shameful to let her go out on the street, nobody needs you, Lucy, youre our unfortunate one.
Just like me, just like me, Eleanor thought, and said, Come on, Lucy, well sing together! Do we have to pay anything?
A neighbour shrieked, Oh! Whos that? From the shelter? Were there no human dogs there?
A boy from the flat above asked, Aunt Daisy, is she laughing? I watched a film where they laughed at night! Mum, lets get a hyena too!
Life settled into a strange rhythm. In the mornings Eleanor walked Lucy, then went to work; in the evenings they strolled for hours. The shelter hadnt deceived her the fearsome Lucy turned out to be surprisingly gentle and wellmannered. She growled at strangers, shielding Eleanor from any possible menace. In a dramatic rescue of a crumbling relationship, Mr. Smith tore his trousers and almost bit his own leg.
Fool! the bitten Mr. Smith shouted, and your dog is a fool too, both of them mad!
At the knitting class the instructor remarked, Youve learned a lot; now show us your skill. In a month I expect a finished piece, anything you like. If youre short on time, knit a dolls dress. In the final session well all evaluate the works, and whoever youre knitting for should display it proudly.
At first Eleanor tried to please herself, but the result was a misshapen mess. Then she decided to knit a little sweater for Lucy. Autumn was creeping in, the air grew cold.
Well then, the instructor said, trying not to stare at Lucy, I see youve put effort into it.
Lucy, now in a pink cardigan, became the neighbourhoods little star; people stopped and stared, an elderly lady even crossed herself. Eleanor didnt mind the gazes at least Lucy stayed warm. She finished a violet sweater for her.
One evening she went out for supplies, tied Lucy at the gate, and returned to find a man studying the dog.
Excuse my curiosity, what breed is this? he asked.
This is a dog! If you dont like it, look away! Eleanor barked. You care only about looks, but you couldnt care less about the soul, whether human or canine!
Are you complaining about appearance? the man replied. I actually like the dog. Shall we be friends, little one? He reached out to pat Lucy.
Careful! Shell bite! She doesnt like strangers! Eleanor shouted. Instead of snapping, Lucy nudged his hand with her head and purred.
Good dog, good, the man said. Looks like well become friends with the owner as well.
Literature never truly left Eleanor. The fifth year passed. The fifth volume was still being written.
