By RONAN BYRNE
JACK’S DAD affixes a poster to the park gate.
“Will that bring Rusty back?” Jack asks.
“It might, Jack. It just might.”
Jack looks at the photograph of his lost dog on the poster. Rusty had run off with another dog earlier that morning; he is too young to be left off the lead like that. Jack’s dad should have known better.
Jack and Jack’s dad walk the perimeter of the park once more. Jack’s dad stops a few people on their walks – mainly dog owners – to see if they have seen Rusty. But no one has seen Rusty. It starts to rain so they take cover under a thick grouping of trees.
“So, how’s school going?”
“School’s okay.”
“What’s your favourite subject?”
“You’d know already if you spent more time with us.”
“You know it’s different now, now that I’m living across town.’
“You could’ve gotten some place closer,” Jack says. “You chose to be nearer to her.”
Jack’s dad considers this to be something Jack has heard his mother say.
“So, how’s mum?”
“She’s fine.”
“And how’s that David fellow?”
“He’s good fun, actually.”
After a short while the rain eases to a light drizzle.
“Come on, let’s go,” Jack’s dad says. “Rusty is nowhere around here.”
As they walk back through the park Jack asks: “Do you think he’ll ever come live with us?”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up at some stage.”
“Not Rusty. David!”
Jack’s dad is silent for a moment. “He might, Jack. He just might.”
When they return to the park entrance they notice the rain has blurred the image of Rusty on the poster. Jack fires a look at his father and heads slowly back to the car. Deep down they both know he’s lost for good.
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