Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Alistair The Awesome-ist

I obsess on silly things when I write. Like the finger marks on my walls and whether the trees that were planted for the Soccer World Cup are getting enough water. Things like that.

And so it is in that cold week in July when I am writing Confessions of a Virgin Loser for Mr Steve Vosloo from the Shuttleworth Foundation and his cellphone mad young adults that I become obsessed with the dog next door.
Nameless Dog is the unhappiest puppy in the world. He is ugly. He doesn’t have a name. And he lives in a cold concrete courtyard at the back of an empty house with The Caretaker who never walks him or says what a good dog you are.
Nameless Dog howls a lot. And on one cold day in that week of July he escapes and makes his way into my garden. And he and Zwiggy, the pavement special from the SPCA that belongs to Teen2 become best friends. And Zwiggy and Nameless Dog play. 

                                 And play.

                                And play

But The Caretaker comes around and beats Nameless Dog and takes him back to his cold concrete courtyard. And Nameless Dog howls. And I obsess on Nameless Dog’s howling.
The Caretaker doesn’t feed and water Nameless Dog too often. So I throw bones over the courtyard wall. And Nameless Dog sleeps outside on the concrete so I throw a blanket over as well. But still Nameless Dog howls. And Zwiggy howls too.
One Sunday morning I track down Nameless Dog’s owner who lives in another house in a posh suburb and I offer to adopt Nameless Dog. The Owner says no, I am fond of the dog. So I say: what’s his name? And The Owner pauses too long and says the dog's name is Sunday. And I don’t believe him.
I obsess about phoning the SPCA and I obsess about kidnapping Nameless Dog and every ten minutes instead of writing Confessions of Virgin Loser I look over the courtyard wall at Nameless Dog and I tell him that I’m so sorry. For everything.
Then I make a hole in the fence and let Nameless Dog crawl through to have play dates with Zwiggy. And they play.

                                And play.

                                And play

And before The Caretaker gets homes I push Nameless Dog back through the fence and block the hole.
But Nameless Dog digs and digs his way under the fence. So I block this hole. Then Nameless Dog digs some more. And I obsess about blocking the holes faster than Nameless Dog can unblock them.

                                It obsesses me.

                                It obsesses me more.

                                 And more.

And sometimes Nameless Dog gets the better of me and spends days in our garden. And has sleepovers too. And The Caretaker doesn’t notice. Or doesn’t care.
Then one day Teen2’s Nameless Friend comes to visit. He meets Nameless Dog. He says what a handsome dog you are. He also says you are the awesome-ist dog I have ever met. He then says I’ll call you Alistair. Alistair The Awesome-ist. He finally says I wish I could have a dog like you.
And then one Saturday, months after Confessions of a Virgin Loser has been written and read by thousands of cellphone addicts, Alistair The Awesome-ist goes missing.
And a week later, when he cares to notice, The Caretaker asks if I’ve seen the dog. And I say no. Through zipped lips.

Alistair The Awesome-ist - where did you go, hey? ;)


  1. please just put me out my misery and say that Teen2’s Nameless Friend has taken Alistair The Awesome-ist home and loves him and looks after him because this made me cry.

    and i dont like to cry. i never cry.

    i'm a big boy.

  2. Wozz! All I can say to you, without it landing me in jail is this ;) - woof.

  3. this post touched me. really. i've not stopped thinking about it. the story, the pictures.. makes me sad to think there are people out there who are so - horrid. horrid horrid people.

    but then, i'm reminded that magic does still exist :) and that makes it a little bit better.

  4. You can understand how obsessed I got - I mean, look at poor Alistair's tail - how could someone chop a dog's tail like that? I KNOW he's happy now. He really is a magical dog.

  5. Oh Ede - what a lovely story. Full of kindness and love. My heart is happy for Alistair!

  6. My heart too. I heard on the weekend that Alistair has learned how to speak Spanish, which is rather impressive for a dog, even of his awesomeness.

  7. good for Alistair for escaping (wink wink, nudge nudge)