What a dog’s night!

K S Subramaniam

K. S. Subramanian

Those two fair, slit eyed lads in their early twenties mustered enough impudence to check the lock on the gate and muttered “it seems to be a lark.”  One of them winked at the other “It is a big house and we can easily bolt from here in pitch dark.  There won’t be much of activity around here then with sparse traffic.  Right?”  The other winked back in agreement.

The house they contemplated avidly was well fenced with a big portico in front and a spacious verandah but the car was missing.  It didn’t take them long to surmise that the family had left somewhere, perhaps for a holiday of some duration.  A well manicured garden with soft grass on the left provided a cushy, soft aroma of the delicate tastes the family possibly nurtured.  The wide, ample balcony gave the house an appealing nouveau riche aura from which they could deduce the extent of affluence. 

Those two lads had worked in a small hotel for some time when they started showing attitude and were promptly sacked.  Quite typical of age but their kin took a fastidious view of it and gave a mouthful almost every day because they had to feed two who had a blank balance sheet.  They were present promptly at home when their stomachs churned and otherwise loitered around aimlessly.  “No way I am going to work in a hotel in future.  Had enough of those verbal punches,” said one ruefully.  The other was even more enterprising.  “Mate!  We must think of how to make a fast buck.  Let us put our skill to test.  If we hit it off at least we can keep the money for our own enjoyment.”
A spell of doubt enveloped one, who was more guarded of the two.  “It looks to be a worthy hit for all we know”, he said stealing a look at the grilled window on the left side of the house. “We will find something worthwhile to get away with.” So they set off.

The lads never suffered from any paucity of skills when it came to cutting the hard iron grill with a slew of tools from pliers to razor blades as they had learnt a bit about carpentry without ever sticking to any job.  “Getting in is child’s play” was how they put it with cocky throw of the head.  Fake smugness always seemed to run in the veins of such species who liked to trifle with the law. 

It was a cold night with a crescent moon shedding its dull light and two streetlights supplanting the effect.  It was quite dark and they landed softly on the grass bed.  Inching their way up with eyes peeling of the darkness they moved to the window.  The more artful of the two took a few minutes scraping off the vertical grill and managed to remove it.  They got in and lighted the torch cautiously guessing rightly that the mains could have been switched off.  They found a steel cupboard and used their special skill to crack the levered lock.  While one was busy with it the other ascended the stairs to go to the bed room where a cupboard made of rosewood was more appealing.  “May be there is a jackpot here” he muttered when a peal of screams from downstairs sent him into a twirl.  It was accompanied by the blood curdling growl and bark. 

He rushed to see his mate grappling with a menacing black Doberman which was pawing at his throat.  Its glowing eyes and drooping tongue left him frozen.  “He has bit me on the leg, mate.  I can’t bear the pain” howled his accomplice before the dog lunged at him.  They had no knowledge how to tackle the dog and ran around in hexagonal ways with the canine close on their toes. 

“Drop everything mate.  Let us get out of here” cried one as he swiftly ascended on the windowsill and managed to jump out.  His mate was still at war with the Doberman when with whatever strength he could muster he pushed it away.  He was barely half out of the open window when the dog caught his jeans.  Its sharp teeth nearly tore off the hard fabric before he too scrambled out panting.  The dog’s bark was so resounding that they could hear it even after they jumped the front gate and ran for life on the empty road.  Their tools and the torch lay orphaned in the house. 

They sat on a side lane gasping and scared stiff, eyes popping out. They could see a couple of persons sleeping undisturbed on the wide platforms with blankets pulled over.  The dog’s bark obviously was too soft or low for their hardened ears.

It took quite a while before one, fancying he was craftier of the two, recovered his voice.  And he bleated.  “What a dog’s night mate!  Who ever thought there would be a canine friend waiting for us there?”

There blew the whistle of a cold wind as if it was chuckling at the unseemly end to a midnight jaunt.

1 comment :

  1. “What a dog’s night mate! Who ever thought there would be a canine friend waiting for us there?”

    a gentle tale of two fine lads and their dreams and its winding up!


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