The Last Family in England. Matt Haig

his master forward.

      The moment he spots me, his nose twitches. Smelling my guilt he starts to bark: ‘It’s him! It’s him!’

      His master tries to calm him down. ‘Shush, Murdoch! Shush!’

      But of course, Murdoch pays no notice and carries on barking. ‘It’s him! It’s him! The one who broke the Labrador Pact!’

      The other dogs are now joining in.

      ‘It’s him!’ barks the three-legged Alsatian.

      ‘It’s him!’ yaps the border collie.

      ‘It’s him!’ chuckles the Old English sheepdog.

      Murdoch is now playing to the crowd. ‘The Labradors are in crisis! The Pact is a joke! Dogs for dogs, not for humans!’ He starts to choke on his collar. ‘Pleasure not duty!’

      ‘Pleasure not duty!’

      ‘Pleasure not duty!’

      ‘Pleasure not duty!’

      The cat is circling her cage in fright, hissing more violently than before.

      ‘Could everyone please keep their pets under control!’ says the woman behind the desk. But despite the efforts of the humans, the barking just gets louder.

      ‘Can’t you see?’ says the Labrador next to me. ‘Can’t you see what you’ve done? The Springers will think they’ve won! Labradors will start to lose faith! There will be anarchy!’

      As if to illustrate her point, Murdoch slips his lead, jumps up onto the desk and starts licking the paint from the woman’s orange face.

      ‘I’m sorry, I never meant to betray the Pact,’ I say, as much to myself as my fellow Labrador. ‘But there was no other way.’

      ‘No other way?’

      ‘The Pact wasn’t enough.’ I turn and look at her and then at Adam, who is attempting to shield my ears from the noise.

      ‘But why?’ Although she is inevitably upset by my blasphemy, I can see she genuinely wants to understand. And, as the noise and chaos continue around us, I realise for the first time that there may still be hope for the humans.

      With that thought in mind, I begin to answer her question.

       The Labrador Pact: Duty Over All

       The happiness and security of human Families depends on sacrifice.

       Our sacrifice.

       We are the last dogs to understand the need for duty over all. We are the last to realise that human Families hold the key to our future survival. Never has the task of maintaining a harmonious Family environment been more difficult, yet never has it been more vital.

       Labradors must devote every aspect of their lives to protecting their masters if we are to gain the Eternal Reward. If one Labrador fails in their task, the whole mission is placed in jeopardy.

       Fewer Families now have dogs to protect them, and fewer still have Labradors. This means our influence over human society could soon begin to wane. In order to prevent this dreadful situation, every single Labrador, whether within a Family or not, must have their masters’ best interests at heart.

       If we surrender to our instincts and neglect those who provide for us, we will never be reunited with our own Families in the after-life. We must therefore be permanently aware of the ultimate truth: that to give up on humans is to give up on ourselves.

      garden

      I was in the garden with Adam.

      On my side, in the middle of the grass, loving the sun and the warm breeze. With my ear to the ground I could pick up, deep below, the gentle pulse of the earth. Paa-dah. Paa-dah. Paa-dah.

      Adam did not hear the sounds of the earth. He was in the middle of wrestling with a rosebush. And, even though he was armed with metal snippers, the rosebush clearly had the upper hand.

      ‘Agh. Shit. Jesus. Agh. Bloody. Christ,’ he said as thorned stems took the necessary defensive action. Eventually, although a few snips had been successful, he stood back and admitted defeat.

      ‘I don’t know, boy, I don’t know,’ he told me, drying his brow with the back of a gloved hand. One quick, squinted look towards the sun and then he was back, bending down and grappling with softer targets.

      Snip, snip, snip.

      Making sure Nature knew her place.

      retrieval

      Later, when the darkness came, Adam took me for my evening walk.

      The park was full of teenage humans, sitting on the wall. They did this every week; they just came and sat.

      Adam didn’t get too close. He had taught some of them at school and I think he preferred not to be recognised. So he stuck to the other side of the park, looking for sticks.

      I saw one before he did, of suitable length, and used my nose to draw attention. He smiled, faintly, and stroked the back of my neck as he picked it up.

      ‘OK, Prince. OK.’

      After a couple of dummy-throws, he swung his arm above his shoulder and released the stick. I started to run, fast, as it flew through the air, up towards the sky. As I ran, I watched it all the way, even when flowers hit my chest, watching, waiting for it to reach the highest point, where it paused, motionless, before heading back down – fast, faster – until it met the ground in front of me with an awkward bounce. Before it came to rest, the stick was between my teeth, and I was jogging back towards Adam, triumphant.

      We then went through the cycle two more times. Throw. Catch. Retrieve. Throw. Catch. Retrieve. Both of us gaining equal pleasure in the activity. For me it was about the retrieval, the sense of satisfaction it gave me to bring things back. To be able to start again. The pattern of it. The repetition. For Adam, though, it was always about the throw itself. About letting go.

      Midway through the fourth cycle, just as the stick bounced, someone shouted. I didn’t pick up the word at first, and neither did Adam, so we moved closer to the park wall.

      Seeing us coming, one of the teenagers, a boy, stood up.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ said Adam. ‘I misheard. What did you just call me?’

      ‘Wanker. I called you a wanker.’ And then, after a quick, courage-fuelling glance at one of his friends, he added: ‘Sir’.

      The teenagers laughed, their heads now angled towards the ground.

      ‘That’s very funny. I’m surprised the careers adviser didn’t tell you to become a stand-up comedian.’

      ‘Whatever.’ The boy sucked hard on his cigarette. ‘But that’s the thing, now I’m not at school I don’t have to put up with all your shit.’

      ‘Yes, I’m sure that must be very liberating for you.’

      ‘Fuck off, sir.’

      He spat, marking his territory.

      I went over to sniff him. He smelt of damaged skin. He was injured under his clothes.

      ‘Oh look, he’s set his dog on you,’ said another boy, from behind a cupped hand.

      I growled.

      ‘Ooh, I’m shitting myself. Help! Help!’

      More laughing.

      ‘Come here, Prince.’

      I returned to Adam, on his command. He grabbed my collar and clipped on my lead, before walking me out of the park. As we started to cross the road I sensed something,