The Making of Henry by Howard Jacobson

Author:Howard Jacobson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307428967
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2009-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

He has agreed to w-a-l-k Angus.

It seems to Henry that if he is not prepared to r-e-l-i-n-q-u-is-h Moira, w-a-l-k-i-n-g Angus is the least he can do.

Lachlan comes knocking, only hours after their conversation, begging Henry to get him out of a hole. His pretext is an aspirin. Does Henry have? Of course Henry has. Henry has half of Western Europe’s stock of aspirin. As Lachlan must have known, because Moira must have told him. But the real reason is the dog’s exercise. Lachlan isn’t up to it, doesn’t know what the matter is, a virus of some sort, and poor old Angus who’s been in all day is getting desperate. It’s your fault, that’s what Henry takes him to mean. It’s your fault for getting me to tell you my life story and upsetting myself. The other implication is that it’s Henry’s fault for engrossing the dog and keeping him indoors.

‘Bless you,’ Lachlan says when Henry agrees. ‘I’ll fetch him.’

But Henry doesn’t want Angus in his apartment. There are ghosts where Henry lives and he doesn’t want the dog frightening them, or vice versa. So the handing over takes place, huggermugger, on the landing between them.

‘Just the dog,’ Henry says, when Lachlan starts to explain the contents of the little tartan bag that goes with him. ‘Nothing else.’

‘Yes, but you’ll need some of these if –’

‘Just the dog,’ Henry says.

‘Suit yourself,’ Lachlan says. ‘But he can’t go out without a lead. Do you want me to attach it to the collar now or will you do it when you get him down?’

Henry looks startled. ‘What does getting him down mean? Do I have to wrestle him or something?’

‘No, just down the stairs. He doesn’t like the lift. Afraid of it, the silly sod.’

‘Do it now,’ Henry says, looking away. ‘You do it, here, now.’

The dog’s tongue is making a lapping noise which Henry doesn’t like. He has a triumphant air. He may love Henry but he also has his measure. He knows that there is a battle of wills afoot and that he is winning it. He meekly offers his throat to Lachlan, in parody of obedience. See this, Henry? Well, you won’t be seeing this quality again for a while.

‘What you’ve got to watch with this clip –’ Lachlan begins to say.

But Henry stops him. ‘You just sort it,’ he says. ‘I won’t be touching any mechanisms.’

‘No, but you’ll need to know how to unclip it when you let him off.’

‘I won’t be letting him off.’

The dog pants, eyeing Henry with consternation. Unless its ironic consternation.

‘He needs an r-u-n,’ Lachlan explains. ‘He’s an old dog, but he needs his r-u-n.’

‘How old is he?’

‘How old are you, Angus? Twelve, I’d say, at a pinch.’

‘How old’s that in human terms?’

‘Seventy-two, maybe seventy-five.’

‘Then I’ll r-u-n with him,’ Henry says.

What he doesn’t say is that he has never w-a-l-k-e-d a dog in his life. Let alone r-u-n with one.

Not counting the country daddy-long-legs which crawled across his unborn brain, little Henry was never allowed an animal of his own.

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