Barking Mad by Richard Frost

The dog wandered in uninvited. No collar. No tag. A mongrel with a few identifiable features. And others less certain in origin.

I’ve had unwelcome guests before. But the arrival of ‘The Dog’, as I decided to call the canine visitor, was, initially, quite comforting. Someone to talk to. Someone who would listen. Someone who would help me feel sorry for myself. A stray looking for a home, so I gave it one. Won’t be here long, I thought. It’ll soon go off and find someone else to be with.

Well, I was wrong there, that’s for sure. The longer The Dog stayed, the harder it became. A voracious appetite eating me out of home, not house. I fed it too much as well. Following me everywhere. Incessantly barking. Filling my mind like a discordant earworm. I thought distraction would be the better part of valour. And at times it was. But I’ve been an avoider all my life.

I was pulled to unfamiliar places. Sometimes slowly. Other times fast. Picking up mess as we went along. Occasionally a disconcerting mix of all four. Not nice.

Night was the worst. Repeatedly licking my head. Sleep broken by kicks to the stomach. Waking to find myself well and truly sat on.

A highly-strung pedigree also made its presence felt. That one got its teeth into me on more than one occasion. It still hangs around a bit even now.

It got so bad I started snapping.

I should have asked for help sooner. Even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have actually done anything.

I knew what others would say. At least I thought I did. ‘It needs to know who’s boss.’ ‘Why did you let it get this bad?’ ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ A few spoken. Most not. But the thoughts had already counted.

‘It’s me or The Dog.’

That was scary. I wanted to let go of the lead.

‘We could try some medication,’ said the expert. ‘And maybe some CBT.’

‘What, Canine Behavioural Therapy?’ I asked. It was the first joke I’d made in ages. At least they smiled. I wasn’t totally mad, then.

It’s taken effort I didn’t want to make, to be honest. A long time too – lot longer than expected. I guess if I’d… oh well, we can all look back on our mistakes, even if they weren’t at the time. I could have done things differently. But I didn’t.

But I am now. Now I’m the one controlling the lead.

Occasionally, I’ll get sat on for a bit. Sometimes, I let it run free – but not for too long. Most of the time, I’m the only one in bed too: can’t tell you what a relief that was.

In fact, we’re pretty good friends. I know the dog and the dog knows me. I might even give it a name. Or would they think I’m mad?

Richard Frost is a former mental health and employment specialist and his understanding of people is influential in his writing, be that fiction or non-fiction. ‘Barking Mad’ was highly commended by the Oxford Flash Fiction Prize 2021. He is the author of ‘Life with St Benedict’ published by BRF in Sept 2019 and self-published ‘A Story to Tell.’ He writes a blog and has had many other articles and book reviews published. Find Richard at @PrayRest and workrestpray.com.