Helen Brain & Nicky Webb
Illustrations by Rico Schacherl
Human & Rousseau
1
Ilona is a knitwit
School was over. Jamie wanted to say hello to her mother, vet Arabella Waine. But first she had to get past Arabella’s receptionist, Ilona.
“Get that goon out of my surgery,” bellowed Ilona as Jamie’s dog Fungi came bouncing in behind her, barking. “This is a vet practice, not a circus.”
Fungi jumped onto the waiting room bench and grabbed a bag of biltong from the treat stand.
“Out, OUT, OUT!” Ilona bellowed, smacking him with her knitting needle.
Jamie tried to grab her dog, but he rushed away into the garden, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I’m still busy training him.”
“Hmmmmmfff,” snorted Ilona. “That mutt is untrainable. I can quite see why his previous owners got rid of him.”
Jamie felt her hackles rising. Poor Fungi had had a horrible start in life. She and her mother had been driving on the highway when they saw the tiny puppy being thrown out of the car in front of them. They had stopped and rescued him. Luckily he wasn’t injured.
“He should have been sent to the SPCA. I can’t imagine why your mother agreed to keep him,” Ilona said with her nose in the air.
I will be the Better Person, thought Jamie, remembering her beloved headmistress, Mrs Jones. I won’t lose my temper. I won’t tell her she looks like a sweaty walrus, just not as good looking.
It would still be a few minutes before her mother was finished with the last patient. She would have to think of something to talk about.
“What’s that hanging around your neck, Ilona?” she asked, pointing at the small silver tube hanging from a red cord.
“It’s Knight’s Magic Whistle,” said Ilona.
“What’s so magic about it?” asked Jamie.
Ilona huffed and plonked her knitting down on the desk. She was knitting a thick cable-knit sweater. It looked very hot and it smelt like dog. She was making it from the hair of her St Bernard, Justus.
“First and foremost,” Ilona said as though she was talking to a dim-witted three-year-old, “it was made by THE Dr Knight. You know … the famous TV vet? The one I used to work for?”
Jamie nodded. Of course she knew him. Ilona never stopped talking about him. Arabella hated him. She called him a “smug, self-satisfied windbag”.
“Well,” continued Ilona, patting the whistle fondly, “this is a training whistle that he made for my Justus. A dog can be trained to do ANYTHING with this whistle.”
Jamie’s face lit up. “Can I borrow it?” she asked. “For training Fungi?”
“Of course not,” snapped Ilona, spinning her knitting around to start a new row. “You’ll get spit in it. It will rust. And there are only two in the whole world.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s Dr Knight’s very own invention. This is the prototype. He’s asked me to train Justus with it.” She beamed at the photo of her St Bernard puppy that stood in a silver frame on her desk. “If anything should happen to the whistle – well, I shudder to think about it!” and she pursed her lips tightly and said, “Now run along. We’re trying to get some work done here.”
2
Fungi is back
A moment later the front door opened.
“Mrs Jones!” gasped Jamie.
In came the person she admired most in the world – a tall, regal woman with perfect posture, and blonde hair gathered into a smooth roll. She patted her string of pearls and smiled graciously when she saw Jamie.
“Why, hello, Jamie. Ilona, good day. I’ll be needing a bag of Esmeralda’s dog food.”
Mrs Jones was Jamie’s headmistress, and Esmeralda was her little pug. The one she took to school every day.
“Certainly, Mrs Jones,” said Ilona, squeezing herself out from behind the desk. Her thighs rubbed together as she waddled over to the bags of dog food. Her tracksuit pants were covered in dog hair.
Mrs Jones wrinkled her nose a little. If Ilona had been a pupil, Jamie thought, Mrs Jones would have told her to use a clothes brush and smarten up.
One day, Jamie promised herself as she watched Ilona heave a 25kg bag of dog food over her shoulder, she would be as perfectly groomed as Mrs Jones. She straightened her back and tried to smile like Mrs Jones, with her chin in the air.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ilona snapped as she passed her. She dropped the bag at Mrs Jones’ feet and began to register the sale on the computer.
Mrs Jones pulled a small pile of fliers from her handbag. “Now, Ilona, I have a little favour to ask you, dear.”
Ilona looked pleased (she liked to be needed), but she said testily, “Well, Mrs Jones, it all depends on what it is. I am extremely busy, what with keeping this practice running smoothly and with my work for Dr Knight, the TV pet specialist? Now there’s a vet who knows how to run a practice. Not like the chaos here. I don’t know what Arabella would do without me.”
Jamie was outraged. If anyone kept this practice running smoothly, it was Arabella’s assistant, Unathi. She was about to jump in and tell Ilona so when Mrs Jones laid a cool hand on her shoulder.
“I know how dedicated you are, Ilona dear,” soothed Mrs Jones. “It would be a great service to the community if you would judge the Best Behaved Dog Competition that we are having at the school fair,” and she handed her a flyer.
For a moment Ilona looked delighted. She picked up the flyer and read it. “Goodness me, a R1 000 prize for first place!” Then her face fell. “What about Justus? He’d like to be part of the competition too. I can’t enter him and be the judge as well. Its not allowed.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Jones, patting her hair. “I suppose … it’s such a lot to ask, Ilona dear, but … do you think you could ask Dr Knight if he’d be the judge? It would be such an honour to have him.”
“Oh, absolutely,” cried Ilona. “I’ll get on to it right away.”
Mrs Jones paid for her dog food.
“Let me carry it to the car,” Jamie said, picking up the bag, staggering under the weight.
“Why, that’s very kind of you, Jamie,” Mrs Jones said, smiling serenely. “I’ll open the door for you, shall I?”
As she opened the front door, she was met by a bouncing mess of brown and white fur, dragging something behind him in the mud. Jamie stopped in her tracks.
“Drop it, Fungi, DROP IT!” she yelled.
“Whatever does he have in his mouth, dear?” asked Mrs Jones.
Jamie dropped the dog food and grabbed Fungi’s collar. “Drop it, drop it!” she repeated. He looked at her, rolling his crazy eyes. She just knew he was laughing at her.
“Drop that!” bellowed Ilona, blowing the Magic Whistle.
Fungi opened his mouth. A large pair of granny panties fell at Mrs Jones’ feet.
Jamie wanted to die.
It