The deal with Death

Death looked down upon the dog standing before him. “INTERESTING”, he said. Death’s voice projected across the empty space. It was hollow and sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel, or over the telephone. His eyes were nonexistent, merely two empty eye sockets. One could see a purple glow coming from within the depths of his skull. As his arm shifted slightly, the cuff on his long black cloak slipped aside, revealing an arm made of bone. The dog was feeling very confused. Humans shouldn’t smell of bone. For him, every movement that Death made was a temptation to chew his leg off. “SHOW ME YOUR STORY”, Death commanded.

They were in a pet shop, looking inside a pen full of beagle puppies falling over each other, trying to be the first to get to the queue of children crowded around one side. Toby was no different, for whilst his siblings were cramming their faces into the bars, he stood and stared at the children, and wagged his tail if any were to look his way. An agile old lady stepped in through the door, her long grey hair wafting in the late afternoon wind. She stopped at a budgie cage and Toby paid her no more attention.

After a while a little girl pointed him out to her mother. Toby wagged his tail so much it looked as though it was about to fall off! Since he was concentrating so much on the little girl and her mother, he did not notice the old lady stepping up behind him until she picked him up. Her hands gentle, but firm, as though she was used to handling young dogs.

The next few hours passed as a blur. Presumably Death did not consider this a very important part.

When we next see Toby he is asleep in the old woman’s flat. His tiny chest rose and fell like the sea on a calm day. The bed on which he was lying was brown with fluffy bones all over it. The old woman was sitting in a rocking chair, gently leafing through an old picture album.

Death and Toby stood watching in silence, though the bubble of borrowed time in which they were standing would not let out any sound.

After a while, the past Toby woke up and padded softly over to where his new master, or rather mistress, was sitting. She looked up and tickled him behind his ear. Both Tobys cocked their heads to one side and wagged their tails. Death looked down at the Toby by his feet and gave him a purple tinge because of the light that his eyes consisted of. “WHY DOST THOU WAG THOUT TAIL? ” Death asked. He was so confused that his language slipped into a Yorkshire accent. “It tickles”, Toby’s thoughts projected into the time bubble. Then the scenery started changing, the room around the bubble blurred as the old woman fed him, housetrained him, loved him and cared for him for fifteen years. Toby knew the old woman as Mary, for that was her name; he also knew the young man who came in once a day as John, and he was Mary’s grandson.

According to the calendar on the fridge it was Tuesday the twenty-first of June 1991. John let himself in and walked into the living room. “Grandma, there is someone I would like you to meet”, John began, but Mary interrupted. “I know that you are going to marry Sarah and I have nothing against this fact. However, if you proceed to do so without informing your Father of this decision I shall have to intervene.” John’s face steadily changed from pink, to red to purple. “You keep your nose out of this!” he yelled. “I have not told you any of that, you stupid old hag! Shut up!” It seemed that John was no longer in control of his body; his hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. In one smooth jab he killed Mary in cold blood.

“SO THAT IS WHY YOU WANT TO SWAP YOUR LIFE WITH THAT OF MARY’S, YOU ARE A NOBLE DOG. UNFORTUNATELY I CANNOT DO THAT. GOODBYE TOBY. ”

Toby was left standing in the flat of the recently passed Mary. Any onlookers would have been certain that his eyes became moist and a tiny drop of salt water fell onto the floor.

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