One day Bob was bringing Edgar home from a walk, when they
happened upon a tramp in an alley near their apartment block.
"Keep that dog away from me!", muttered the dishevelled old
man. "Do you think that just because I'm poor, you can let him
happen on me like that?"
"I'm sorry," Bob said. "If I'd realised he was happening, I
would have done something.
"You were both happening", glared the old man.
Well, I'm sorry", Bob repeated tiredly as the tramp shuffled
past.
"It's all over me," the man muttered.
It was one of those days.
Despite such incidents, Bob felt that getting Edgar out of the
house more often was paying dividends. The Alsatian was often
tired when they came home, and consequently less likely to expend
energy making plates fly about the house, or communicating
telepathically with Bob's dead relatives. "The dead are all
around us", Edgar confided one evening, "and they watch us while
we masturbate."
All of which inclined Bob to agree when Edgar suggested they
go out to the movies that evening.
Finding a cinema that admitted dogs wasn't easy - In fact Bob
had thought it a hopeless task, and it was only at the last
minute that he discovered a little cinema which specialised in
socialist children's films. As there weren't any films like that,
they improvised, and were presently running a double feature of
'101 Dalmatians', preceded by 'Battleship Potemkin.'
"Nobody will bring children, so we're letting them bring
their dogs", the manager explained.
Bob decided to take the car, as the cinema was some distance
towards the city, and it had begun to rain.
Edgar was well-behaved during the screening, and obviously
enjoyed himself immensely. He even forgave Disney for not showing
the giant obsidian Stoat which, according to him, dominates the
London skyline. "It was a made-up story, after all", he acknowledged.
Bob had thought that Edgar might become enamoured of the
female Dalmatian in the movie, but as it turned out, Edgar's
favourite character was Thunderbolt, the Alsatian hero of the
television series which the puppies in the film liked to watch.
"Do you fancy yourself as a bit of a heroic adventurer?", Bob
teased him on the way back. "What was that?", he added suddenly,
catching a glimpse of a fast-moving, indistinct shape in the
rear-view mirror. Edgar glanced back at the rain-dark windscreen.
Suddenly a blur of halftones surged into the car from behind,
and the German Shepherd from the TV show was sitting between them
on the seat, panting, and looking heroic. Bob shouted in
surprise and nearly steered into a tree.
The dog was black and white, the same as on television.
"It's Thunderbolt!", Edgar exclaimed happily.
"Yes," Bob agreed tentatively, reaching out to touch the
newcomer. His hand went right through. "It could be worse", he
admitted, flicking the headlights to high. "You might have been
partial to the Cossack Cavalry."
Any hopes that Thunderbolt might prove to be a temporary
apparition were soon dashed. Edgar's fascination with the
charismatic cartoon Alsatian was deep-seated, and the halftone,
somewhat grainy canine became a permanent fixture in and around the house.
Bob supposed that the facility to project an imaginary
playmate in a visible form was fairly unusual, but it was not
without precedent in their household. The previous year, after he
and Edgar had watched 'The African Queen' on television, a black
and white Catherine Hepburn had wandered around the house with
Edgar for several days, and had even brought Bob an imaginary
breakfast in bed one morning.
For a short time Bob was concerned that Thunderbolt, the
newest manifestation of Edgar's mental landscape, might herald
some more chaotic eventuality, but soon he was forced to admit
that the charismatic dog was a positive influence on Edgar. The
two of them would roam the streets, looking for people to save
from evildoers. These crusades absorbed so much of Edgar's energy
that paranormal activity around the house came to a virtual standstill.
Things worked out quite well, and the two soon acquired quite a
reputation around the neighbourhood for thwarting petty
criminals, and occasionally, when there was no actual crime
going on, for saving people from themselves.
Then, one afternoon, Bob went to answer the door, followed by
Edgar and Thunderbolt, who was flickering slightly. They were met
by three well-groomed men in business suits, carrying briefcases,
and holding various legal documents.
"We are lawyers representing Walt Disney", said the man
nearest Bob. "You have been using one of our characters without
permission, and we are going to sue you."
"You fiends!", said Thunderbolt.
"Wait on", Bob pleaded, "no-one's 'using' him - Edgar's just
imagining him, for heaven's sake. You can't sue people for
imagining things."
"We'd like to", said the second lawyer.
"Anyway, in this case there is a clear and visible breach of
copyright", said the first lawyer, adjusting his dark glasses.
"We have had dozens of reports of this character running about
doing things that weren't in the movie. Your dog is clearly the
perpetrator of these events, and we are holding you responsible."
"But he isn't even real", Bob insisted desperately.
"Neither is the real one", said the lawyer. "That doesn't
matter."
The men served some papers on Bob, and left. "We will be
back at three o'clock tomorrow with the police, to repossess your
furniture prior to your arrest", they said.
Edgar made obscene gestures with his tail.
"Edgar, please!", Thunderbolt admonished him.
"This is dreadful", Bob groaned the next afternoon, as they
were waiting for the lawyers to come back. "What are we going to
do? We can't possibly afford to pay them."
Edgar had offered to stop thinking about Thunderbolt, or to
only think about him being out in the laundry where no-one could
see him, but Bob knew the damage had been done.
Shortly afterwards the Disney lawyers turned up, accompanied
by the police. Two constables were just about to handcuff Bob,
when four more lawyers arrived, this time materialising through
the wall. They were black and white, like Thunderbolt.
"Stop!" they said. "We represent the television network which
screens the cartoon which the puppies are shown watching during
your film." They pointed to the Disney lawyers. "You did not get
permission to use Thunderbolt in this manner, and we are suing
you for a colossal amount of imaginary money."
Bob looked at Edgar. "Are you imagining this?", he asked,
perplexed.
"I don't know", Edgar admitted.
"Damn it!", Thunderbolt barked, shocking everyone into
silence. "I'm sick of this! I am a real dog, with feelings and
needs of my own - not merely a piece of intellectual property!
Furthermore," he added, "I am a homosexual, and I am tired of the
ludicrous facade which I am required to keep up in all these
media appearances!"
"Right", said one of the police officers. "I am arresting
whoever is legally responsible for this dog, on the charge of
corrupting public morals."
The living room dissolved into a terrible, clamorous argument,
as everyone threatened one another with various types of legal
proceedings. Bob ushered them out the front door.
He sagged down onto the couch, and stared blankly at Edgar,
who was thumping his tail happily.
"Thank you, Edgar", Thunderbolt said. "I feel that you at
least, regarded me as a real person."
With that he barked goodbye and vanished.
Edgar looked at the spot where he had disappeared, then walked
over and plonked down beside Bob on the couch. After a moment or
two he said, "It's a good thing Hepburn's Lawyers never found
out."
Tim Gadd 10/99
