I opened the back door and squinted into the sunlight. ‘Oh geez!’ I hadn’t counted on this. Mum was going to kill me.
The clothes-line was hanging on its side with bits of my brother’s jeans hanging off the other end. And that was only one end. There were clothes everywhere. It looked like a helicopter crash I’d seen in a movie. Except it had no blood, and no bodies. Just a great big dog lying in the middle of it all with a pair of mum’s lacy nickers hanging out of his mouth. My stomach started to flip like when I was sick that time in the boat. I was supposed to be watching him, not watching the television.
Mum had almost had a heart attack when she spotted me trying to sneak him down the side of the house.
‘You take that dog back to Mrs Green’s.’ She paused for effect and wagged her finger at me. ‘Do it now Michael. And no Playstation.’ Mum jingled the car keys in my face and huffed off down the driveway towards the car. She turned and frowned at me and the dog. ‘I’ll be back in an hour….maybe less.’
I nodded my head, like I always did. Mum never gave me an exact time, just to keep me guessing, and hopefully out of trouble. This was her logic, although Dad reckoned it hadn’t worked very well so far.
Well, it was working this time. My legs felt like jelly as my stomach twisted into knots. I looked at my watch. How long did I have? I thought my brain was going to explode. What could be worse? Mum finding her undies chewed and slobbered on in Butch’s mouth, or my brother dunking my head in the toilet over his ratty pair of jeans?
Bits of mud and dog saliva stuck to my fingers as I stuffed the clothes into the washing machine. I pressed a few random buttoms and started to breathe again as the lights came on and the machine hummed. I’d heated up a few pizzas in the microwave, how hard could it be? I stuffed my brother’s jeans behind the cupboard. I’d have to think about them later.
The clothes-line made a loud pinging noise, but slowly creaked back into place as I pushed all my weight down on the high end. It looked ok, even if it wobbled a bit when I rotated it a couple of times. I looked at Butch and frowned. Maybe a Great Dane had been a bit too ambitious. Mrs Green had better find somebody else to dogsit. No amount of extra pocket money was worth this. I threw an old peg at him and swore under my breath. He stopped rolling around in the dirt and looked up at me. He eyed the peg, yawned and started licking himself. Great. He was either too stupid to know what he’d done wrong or he knew that size mattered, no matter what. Either way, he wasn’t used to being told what to do. I needed to get him out of here and back to Mrs Green’s before he realised that he was bigger than our back fence.
To be continued….