A Perfect Pose

2

2

“Buster! Hey, Buster! Where are you, you great hairy pain in my behind?” Maxwell Lowndes called out, searching the early morning mist, which had settled low to the ground, for a glimpse of his dog.

Maxwell was sure the annoying beast considered it a wonderful game to go running off the moment they crossed the bridge, and then listen to him calling out for the next twenty minutes, by which time they were both ready for the walk back to the car. It had been almost half an hour this morning, though, and he was beginning to get worried that something might have happened to Buster. He remembered the last time Buster hurt himself; not only had he been without his companion for three lonely days and nights, but the vet’s bills had been almost more than he could afford.

“BUSTER!” he called again, raising his voice so it would carry further. He was rewarded this time with a distant bark; it held no sign of distress that he could detect, and he felt some of his worry slip away. “Come here, boy.”

Maxwell waited where he was for a minute, so Buster could find him, but saw no sign of his dog. When Buster’s barking continued, without seeming to get any closer, he started off through the mist and the trees in the direction it was coming from. He suspected Buster had found something he found interesting, and he wondered what it would be this time; in the past he had seen his companion get excited over things as diverse as the body of a badger, a discarded plastic bag that held the soggy remains of someone’s takeaway, and even a leaf caught in a fence and flapping in the breeze.

When he made it to Buster’s side, Maxwell looked around for whatever it was that had attracted his dog’s attention. He could see nothing, so he tried to pull Buster away from the bank. He wouldn’t leave, though, Buster simply pulled free and continued barking. Maxwell looked around again, but still couldn’t see what had caught his dog’s attention; it was a few moments before he realised that Buster was not looking down at the bank at his feet, or at the water running past, he was looking out across the water towards the far bank.

Maxwell strained his eyes to see through the thin mist, to pick out what it was Buster had spotted, but his sight wasn’t as good as that of his dog, and it wasn’t until a swirl of the mist left the far bank clear for a moment that he saw it. Even then he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. He reached into his pocket for his glasses and slipped them on so he could see better, but he still couldn’t make out what the black and blue object was.

Only when he turned away, to make another attempt to pull Buster back from the water, and he saw it out the corner of his eye did he realise what it was that lay on the other side of the river, almost, but not quite, falling into the water.

“Come on, boy.” Maxwell took Buster by the collar to pull him away from the water, and this time he turned and moved quickly ahead to guide his master along the bank.

Maxwell reflected that it was as if he had been waiting for his discovery to be recognised, and that now it had it was okay for him to leave. As quickly as his legs would allow, which wasn’t quick enough for Buster, who pulled him along and threatened to drag him if he fell, Maxwell made his way through the trees to the bridge.

He was able to increase his pace a little once they were out of the woods, and there was no longer so much danger of him tripping over, he still wasn’t quick enough for Buster, however.

In the end he was forced to let go of Buster’s collar and let him run on ahead to the car. Being pulled over by his dog was the last thing he needed, especially when there was no-one around to help him - he hadn’t yet seen any of his fellow dog-walkers, which wasn’t all that unusual, he was normally the first one there, and he was sure the mist had put a few of the regulars off.

When he made it to his car, Maxwell found Buster waiting patiently alongside it. He gave his head a quick pat before unlocking the driver’s door, so he could retrieve his mobile phone from the glove compartment. Following the instructions his son had carefully drilled into him when he gave him the phone, Maxwell unlocked it and dialled nine-nine-nine.

The emergency services operator answered the call almost immediately, and Maxwell said in a voice that shook more than he liked, “I need an ambulance, and the police, please.”