This is a work of fiction. It is a sequel to the other stories, beginning with "A Letter from America" that have appeared in adult/youth, young pals, and no sex. Not one single character is , or is based on, a real person. I have borrowed the names of places, and even of some buildings and institutions in those places, but their personnel remain fictitious. They do not represent real people. Not all characters were created by me. There are some that were created by another author -- Jacob Lion. I am grateful to Jacob for permission to use his characters. I hope you enjoy this story. I'm grateful to Nifty for publishing it. Nifty makes no charge, neither for me to publish, nor for you to read these stories, but it does cost money to publish them. If you enjoy the stories, please consider making a donation to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html so that he can continue to bring these stories to you.
Howard Chapter 1 By Jonah
"Have you written to you Grandparents lately?"
Peter looked up from his homework.
"I wrote last week,," he said. "When are we going to see them again?"
"Don't know the answer to that one Peter," I replied. "Now the school holidays have come along it seems like a good time, but it'd be expensive, and we can't keep imposing on them."
In truth, the school holidays were almost over - hence the inglorious scrabble to do homework which should have been done at the start of the holidays.
"I thought they liked us going."
"Well, it was their idea, so I suppose they must do, But that doesn't give us the right to just keep turning up."
I thought about that for a moment while all three boys concentrated on their work.
"I'll tell you what," I said, eventually. "We could certainly do with going to see them before Christmas. How about I ask about going in the autumn half term?"
"Yay!" or to be more accurate, "Yay" x 3!
"It'll be good to see Grandma and Grandpa again," Simon commented.
"It'll be good to see Lady again," said Luke.
That struck a note. Luke still spent virtually every night clinging to me as he slept. He was eleven now, and could probably do with stopping doing that. Of course, I didn't mind. A cute eleven year old in my bed was quite pleasant, but Luke was the important one here, not me. It was heartbreaking that his nightmares hadn't gone away. I wondered, not for the first time, if a dog might help him get himself over it.
"Are you saying you miss Lady more than you miss your grandparents then Luke?"
He coloured up. I had to smile - if only to reassure him that I was only teasing.
"You really miss cuddling up with her in bed," I said. "Now we're back here you have to put up with me."
"I'll be happy to volunteer, if you're fed up with him," said Simon, with a grin.
I looked long and hard at Simon, then asked.
"Simon, what DID you and Riku get up to when we were in the States?"
Everything changed.
In a fraction of a second I saw Luke and Peter look down at their work. Simon stood, left the table, and took the stairs two at a time. I heard the boys' bedroom door slam.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in the palm of my hand. How could I have been so bloody stupid? I'd just won the no brains prize.
When I opened my eyes I saw Peter silently looking the way his brother had just departed. Luke had desisted from looking at his work and was now looking - silently - at me. His face wore an urgent expression. Clearly Luke knew what had to be done and was quite clear that it was I who had to do it - and now.
I nodded and he returned his gaze to his work.
I rose and walked quietly up the stairs. Opening the boys' room door, I said, quietly,
"Can I come in Simon?"
He said not a word. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, clearly crying. He lifted his tear-filled eyes to me for a second, shrugged his shoulders, then looked down at the floor again.
I sat down next to him.
"Do you want the apology now, or is it too soon?" I asked. "I only ask because it's got to come sooner or later 'cos I'm a right dickhead who never ought to be allowed to look after smart boys like you three. You look after me more than I look after you, and that's how I show my gratitude."
He sniffed, but continued gazing at the floor.
"Look, I'm really sorry Simon, and I don't blame you for being pissed off with me."
He lay back on his bed and inspected the ceiling through his tears.
Eventually he sniffed again then drew his sleeve across his eyes. When he spoke, he was forcing the words out through gritted teeth. The venom was bred of hurt - real hurt.
"Jonah" he breathed, "when we were in the States I did NOTHING with Riku that I would have been ashamed for you to see."
"I know that Simon. I hope you know I trust you. I was joking because, I assumed, you were joking when you said you wanted Luke to sleep with you. I know that's no excuse. I was insensitive, and you deserve better than that."
"You know I'm gay, right?"
"That means nothing because I am too, but the issue isn't that you're the same gender as Luke. It's that he's a minor. I shouldn't let him sleep with me, but you know why I do right?"
He nodded.
"Good, because there's something I'd like to talk over with you, if you're not still mad at me."
He sat up and moved closer to me.
"Simon, Luke always clings to me when we're here, but he didn't always while we were in Scotland."
He looked at me for the first time since I'd come in. It seemed I'd piqued his interest, so I continued.
"When Lady slept on our bed, he clung to her instead. I'm wondering if it would help Luke if we had a dog."
He thought about it.
"Could work," he said. "What'd we do if it didn't?"
"We'd still have a dog," I replied. "You don't get them on sale or return."
"When would we get it?"
"I could start looking right away, but I don't want to do anything until I know you boys are OK with it. I need to have a word with Peter, because I don't want to be getting Luke's hopes up until I know you two are on side."
"Well you can count me in," he replied. "I think it's a great idea."
"I'm sure Peter will too," I told him, "but I don't want to take it for granted. I've already done that once too often today".
"Nah, forget it,", he responded, catching my meaning at once. "I over-reacted."
"No mate," I told him. "I hurt your feelings. Having feelings is NOTHING to be ashamed of. I'm an idiot".
He looked at me and smiled but said nothing. If I expected him to deny what I'd just said, I was in for a disappointment.
"What?" I said.
The grin just got wider, so I hit him with the pillow and headed downstairs.
"Peter, can I have a word," I said, as Simon resumed his place at the table.
The rest of the interviews went more or less as I expected. The consensus among the boys was that I should go out and recruit our first canine family member yesterday.
Well the going out didn't happen. This is the twenty-first century. I retired to my room and went on-line. I eventually narrowed it down to two possible dogs, a German shepherd, and a mongrel. Now I have always believed that a mongrel has a better temperament than a pedigree dog. I was almost sold on the idea. When I discovered that the owner lived in Harrow - in Church Avenue, to be precise - I telephoned immediately.
An hour later saw me in Church Avenue, pinned to the sofa by an enormous labrador bitch. Two puppies, both of them half whippet, played on the carpet. The lady (the human one - not the bitch) was wreathed in smiles as she saw me bonding with the pups' mother.
"Now I know he'll be going to a good home" she said.
I handed over the money and was given a cardboard box containing a blanket.
"He likes his blanket," she said. "He'll feel secure while that's around."
She placed the puppy in the box, and I departed. Although the puppy didn't seem over-active at the moment - he was probably frightened - I was not unhappy with my purchase. If he combined the intelligence of a whippet with the affection of a Labrador, he'd be perfect. What I'd effectively got was a Labrador that wouldn't moult quite so much.
The boys had finished their homework, when I got back. They sat in silence as I placed the box by the door. A Jersey cow said "Moo!" as she trotted downstairs. Now tell me which is the most improbable of those last two statements.
The end result was the same anyway. I had to halt the excited rush as I walked in.
"Steady boys, we don't want to frighten him," I told them. "Sit down again, then you can introduce yourselves one at a time. Luke, you come first. Meet Howard. Luke- Howard. Howard - Luke."
"Can I hold him?"
"I wouldn't if I were you," I replied. "If he's frightened you know what he's likely to do, all over you. Better just stroke him for now."
"He's called Howard?" said Simon.
"Yes, my boy," I replied. "His full name is Howard Marsh, but you couldn't begin to understand why."
"He's kind of small," said Peter.
"So were you when you were his age," I replied.
"You never saw me when I was that age."
"That's where you're wrong young man" I returned. "I did, but only once. Anyway, look at the size of those paws. He isn't always going to be small."
At this point the box turned on its side, at the instigation of the pup inside it. That, of course, gave him access to the rest of the room - an advantage of which he availed himself before anybody was able to stop him. I quickly stopped the boys from chasing after him. If he became a fugitive in a dog-hunt, he would be terrified, and his loosened bowels would do nothing for our carpet.
"Simon, see if you can catch him please," I said. "Peter, Luke, get your shoes on. We have a few things we need to buy if we're going to look after a dog, but don't open that door until Simon has hold of Howard. Simon, can you stay here and look after him while we shop?"
I think Simon understood that it was a rhetorical question. We shopped. We needed food for ourselves anyway, but a visit to the discount store across the road found us a dog basket, and two bowls. we found a collar that would fit him when he was big enough to wear one, and a tin of dog food. That would do for now.
We returned to find Simon lying on the sofa with the puppy sleeping peacefully on his chest - the blanket draped across both of them. Well we placed the basket by the door, and Peter retrieved the blanket to put in it. The bowls - one for food and one for water, went in the kitchen area, since that was the only area that wasn't carpeted. Of course, acting as the dog's bed exempted Simon from helping prepare dinner, so Luke and I did that. Howard, although new to being a puppy, had already discovered that a dog's job is to eat. That meant that we could not be allowed to eat without being subjected to those big, pleading eyes. I quickly scooped up the little fellow and showed him where his bowls were in the kitchen. He quickly started to feed but stopped to follow me back to the table. We were back where we started except that now the pleading stare was especially for me. I spotted Luke trying to offer him a small piece of chicken.
"Luke," I said, "don't feed him here. Take it to the kitchen and put it in his bowl with his food. "
He did that, and the puppy dutifully followed him. It followed him back to the table as well. Now Luke was the object of his attentions.
"I can't keep going to the kitchen," he pleaded.
"Then you'd better eat your own dinner," I replied. "Perhaps we'll have more success getting him to eat his food when we've finished eating ours."
That proved to be the case. The evening was spent devising games that Howard could join in with. Of course, we had to devise a way for him to do his business until he was big enough to be taken out. Basically, that was done by pretending he was a cat. Simon manufactured a litter tray, using the cardboard box that I had brought the pup in, a bin bag, and a bag of kitty-litter. Of course, persuading the puppy to use it, rather than the carpet, was going to be another matter.
Then came bedtime. The pup was settled in his basket, and I had my usual companion at bedtime.
"Luke," I told him, "you know I love our time together, and it comforts you, but there is someone else needs comfort now. Couldn't you try sleeping in your own bed then we'll see how you manage."
He left without a word.
I slept only fitfully. I wasn't used to sleeping alone these days. It must have been about 3 am when, unable to get back to sleep, I determined to get myself a hot drink. I didn't quite get as far as the kitchen because there, by the door of the lounge, the dog's basket was covered with its blanket. Howard was obviously slumbering peacefully but protruding from under the blanket was what was clearly a bare, human foot. I was shocked.
Thinking back, it was plain that I had planted the germ of this idea, but it was certainly not what I had intended. This had to be stopped.
TO BE CONTINUED