CHOWCHOW AND A POLICEMAN

Modern times and a primeval monkey

“Well, good riddance, that’s all I can say,” mumbled Uncle Colin when Sally tearfully explained that she’d lost Chowchow, but his meaningless words went nowhere to placating the tearful girl.

“But I don’t know where he’s gone,” she sobbed, “he doesnlt understand things, he only knows trees and mud!”

“There’s only one thing to be said,” snapped her mother, “we’re going home here and now, you’re having a bath and then when you’re clean you’ll feel better about everything and maybe you’ll be able to find your filthy pet!”

“He’s nobody’s pet, he’s a free spirit!” protested Sally.

“Rubbish, child,” grated her mother, using the same tone of voice as she did at school when she was chastising someone else’s younger child.

“Meanwhile I’ll put a message out,” grinned the girl’s uncle, “that there’s a dangerous beast escaped from some zoo, and it would be better for all concerned if he were shot on sight! He’d certainly be happier if he was dead, and nobody knows what germs he’s got lurking in his filthy fur!”

Sally stood gazing at the two adults, scowling with anger. And she knew one thing above all others: people these days might well shoot the beautiful unarmed monkey sooner than trying to help it. It was the world she lived in, and all of a sudden she hated it. Then she did the only thing she could do and said the only thing she could say,

“Then I’d better find him before any gung-ho idiot with an air pistol does!” she shouted, and dashed for the door. Within a minute she was lost to her mother as she ran round the first corner she came to and became one with the rest of the world. There was no sign of Chowchow, but a little crowd of children gathered in a tight group might know something.

Chowchow would have loved to become as one with the rest of the world but, unbeknownst to him, he was an alien in an alien world.

The moment he wandered past the neighbour’s garden and house and out into the street he became almost catatonic with fear. There were things there that were so beyond his comprehension that all he wanted to do was get as far from there as he could. For a start, where had all the soft green stuff gone? Things ought to be green, oughtn’t they? The growth on the ground in the open spaces that were scattered throughout his ancient woodland home were green, weren’t they? And the trees, they were mostly green where they weren’t brown, weren’t they? But this unworldly place, there was grey everywhere, the dismal, unnatural grey of hard roads, and there was barely a tree in sight.

But what was even worse than the unfamiliar landscape was the group of strange animals that lived there. He didn’t know what they were though they had a similarity to Sally, the creature he’d grown almost affectionate towards. Some were a little smaller than she, others a little larger, and when they saw him they gathered round in an excited rabble. And the noises they made, their mouths gibbering like naughty nippers in the forest, became a confusion of meaningless sound to his primeval ears.

It was home-time for the local comprehensive school.

But Chowchow knew nothing of home-times. He was surrounded by what he perceived as danger and he could only think of one thing to do, and that was flee for his life. The unknown alternative was probably likely to be worse than death, and like all living things since the birth of consciousness he had a fear of that.

So he spied the least of gaps in the crowd around him, a crowd that was growing ever larger by the moment, and he tore through it, knocking a twelve year-old in grey shorts flying as he went.

The boy yelped, half a dozen girls tried to help both him and the monkey, and in the confusion Chowchow raced off, across a road and into the path of a large blue bus fortunately pulling up at a bus stop with its door already open. The driver must have seen him because he jammed on his brakes causing his passengers to lurch in their seats and those already planning to leave stumble and fall, as the monkey from an age before their own species evolved slumped through the open door and onto the platform with its driver’s door and shiny ticket machine.

The front passenger seat was empty, and as good (or bad) fortune would have it he lurched into it and rolled up into a ball. It was blind instinct. He needed to make himself as small as possible because small creatures are less likely to be noticed than their larger brethren and it didn’t cross his mind that even rolled up he was far too large to be invisible..

The bus pulled up to a stop and the driver left his seat to see what manner of passenger was trying to get a free ride.

But Chowchow was shivering as if he had the worst of colds, his teeth were chattering and he was jabbering as quietly as he could.

“The poor thing,” smiled an old lady on the second row, look at him: he’s terrified.”

“The filthy brute,” grated a middle-aged man who was none too clean himself.

“Mummy, can I have one?” asked a posh boy with a superior face.

“Maybe at Christmas,” his mother replied as she ruffled his hair with an affectionate hand and prayed for juvenile forgetfulness.

Meanwhile, the driver didn’t know what to do. Here was a creature that looked almost like a monkey, but not quite. It’s face had an almost intelligent appearance as it uncurled slightly and looked up at him through big, almost black, eyes.

“I don’t know what to do about you, sonny, and that’s for sure,” he muttered to Chowchow.

And neither did the policeman in his blue helmet when he came aboard the bus to see what the hold-up was. “Probably escaped from the zoo,” was his only opinion, not giving any thought to the fact that nearest zoo was fifty miles away.

“It’s probably somebody’s pet,” opined the old lady on the second row because she knew more than the policeman did about the location of zoos.

They were still debating the possible origin of Chowchow and how they would return him to where he came from when he let his fear drive him into action again, and with a sudden deal of alacrity he leapt up, made the policeman stagger backwards into the driver’s arms, and leapt through the door to what he hoped was freedom.

But it wasn’t.

© Peter Rogerson 19.11.19