“She’s a dog, and if you wants a dog, you ‘as to accept that dogs don’t smell like us”.
Dai looked at his friend and agreed, but wondered whether his friend didn’t need a little ‘poncifying’ himself.
Dai drove past a shop near the village, bought his granddaughter an ice cream and took her home, then they walked a little further on down the hill to the ‘Bryn Teg’, the village public house. It was nearly four o’ clock.
William entered the pub first, but turned to hold the door open for his friend without looking inside. As Dai walked through the door, the sound of ‘Happy Birthday’ erupted. They both looked around the bar in amazement at the decorations and trimmings. The landlord and landlady, Harry and Joyce, led the birthday song accompanied by ten or twelve men and women, all of about retirement age.
“Well I never!” he said to everyone as he and William took stools at the bar and Kiddy lay down in her usual spot under a table by the door.
“Pint of bitter, Dai?” asked Harry.
“Yes, please, Harry. Who did all this?”
“It was Joyce’s idea, but a few of your friends here helped us decorate the place. Bitter for you too, Bill?”
“Aye, thanks, Harry. I’ll get these”.
“Happy Birthday, mate!” he said clinking glasses with his friend when their pints had arrived, “and many more of them”.
“Thanks, Bill. All the best, mate. I’m glad you could come. I wasn’t expecting all this though and that’s for sure. Thanks for all the trouble you’ve gone to for my birthday, everyone”, he said standing up and raising his glass to everyone. “I don’t think I’ve had a birthday party since the kids left home. It was a very kind thought. Thank you, Joyce”.
When the initial excitement caused by Dai’s entrance had died down, most of the men went back to watching a rerun of a recent football game, while others exchanged anecdotes about village life and hill farming in general.
“Fancy a game of Crib, Dai?”
“Sure. Usual stakes?”
“Aye, penny a point. Harry, the cards, please”.
Harry nodded and reached for the set. He knew what they were talking about because they had been playing Crib together for all of the nineteen years he had been the landlord of the Bryn Teg, and he had been told that they had been playing it for just as long before he had taken over.
“Shall I give Kiddy her usual as well?” asked Harry.
William looked over his shoulder to see his dog panting back at him, her tail wagging as usual whenever he paid her attention.
“Yes, please, Harry. It’s her wages for having to wait for me, and she’s come to expect them now”.
“How long has she been coming here? Ten years?”
“Twelve, but she wasn’t what you would call a regular until I sold the flock five years ago”.
“Twelve years, is it? Doesn’t time fly?” he said pouring a half a bitter into the bowl that William left behind the bar for her, and topping it up with water. He put that and a packet of Smokey-Bacon flavoured crisps on the bar and walked around the counter.
“There you are, old girl”, he said putting the bowl on yesterday’s newspaper and emptying the crisps onto it. Kiddy waited patiently, her tail wagging and her tongue hanging out. The moment that Harry had finished patting her head, she tucked into her treat.
“I love to do that for her. I actually look forward to it”, said the kind-hearted landlord.
The afternoon passed quickly, and after several games, most of which Dai won for a change, William made ready to go.
“Not going already are you, Bill?”
“Aye, I’ve had my three pints and two hours and you’ve had my money - birthday boy’s luck, so it’s time to hit the road”.
“Aw, come on, I’m enjoying winning for a change. I’ll tell you what, stay another hour and not only will I buy you a pint, but I’ll give you double stakes”.
“Oh, I don’t know”, he said but he was considering the proposition. His friend had not had to buy a drink all afternoon and he had ninety-eight pence of William’s money.
“All right, but I got to take the dog outside for a Gypsy’s first. Her bladder’s not as strong as it used to be”.
“You could say that about all of us”, replied Dai. “You do that and I’ll nip to the gents’ as well”.
Kiddy coupied down in the car park and looked away from William shyly as she always did when going about her business and then started to walk home. William whistled and held the door open for her. She hurried inside and they both resumed their places.
“I needed that”, said Dai holding the deck of cards out for William to cut them, “and it looked as if she did too”.
“She thought she was going home for her dinner, so I’ll only stay another hour. Cheers, Dai. Thanks for the pint”.
“My pleasure”, he replied.
“I’ll get my money back out of you now”.
“Never! I’m going to whip your arse. I’m on a roll, I can feel it”.
Ninety minutes and two pints later, William got up to go again, and Dai didn’t try to stop him.
“A quick visit to the bog, and then we’re off. I won’t get home until eight o’clock now. I’m not as fleet of foot as I used to be you know. Oh, and a packet of peanuts, Harry, please”.
“None of us are, mate. Thanks for the lesson in Crib, but I nearly had you this time. You’re a jammy sod, you get some incredible luck, you do!”
“That’s skill, my boy! I’ve been trying to teach you the game for forty years. Don’t you think it’s time you packed it in and tried snooker instead?”
“I’ll have you next time”.
“In your dreams. Enjoy the rest of your birthday. Bye everyone, time to get up that hill and home”. He looked around the room, but already knew that no-one could give him a lift even part the way home. When he opened the door, Kiddy was in front of him.
Kiddy usually led the way out of the village, and he would follow on two and a half yards behind her. He had never been sure why she liked to walk like that, but he suspected that she was trying to force the pace. When they got onto the hill road, she wandered more freely ahead, behind and to the right of him.
Five pints was more than William was accustomed to these days and it made him sing to himself quietly as he tried not to trudge up the hill. He liked to sing the hymns that he had learned in school and chapel. He didn’t know a single modern song, except for some Max Boyce that they sang in the pub during a rugby international, and he was proud of it. Most of the hymns he could sing in Welsh and English, but preferred the Welsh versions.
Forty minutes later, William was approaching a corner which would reveal another rock that they always rested at on the downhill side of his house. He felt his jacket pocket for the packet of peanuts he would share with Kiddy before they tackled the last short leg home. It was more of a treat to stop there than a necessity. They both enjoyed their breaks, their snacks and taking their time in their new lives of retirement. As he rounded the corner, he was wondering where Kiddy had got to. It wasn’t like her not to check up on him every few minutes.
Then