Two dogs

When two dogs fight over a bone, the third one runs away with it. So goes the saying. But at Parklaan 42 there is no third dog. Bas and Doris just have to share with each other, and that works fine.

They each have their own window. Ever since they were a few weeks old, Bas chose the right window and Doris the left. From there they look out onto the wide street where birds skim between the plane trees.

They like to lie in the sun and bark at anything that moves: birds, passersby, leaves that act just a little too provocatively. Their walk through the Citadel Park is the other fixed highlight of their day. They have been together all their lives and have never had a fight.

They always get their food on time, in separate bowls. Except on special days, when they are spoiled and even share that effortlessly among themselves.

One afternoon a dog passes by that looks remarkably like them: white, short snout, jumping tail. Bas and Doris start barking at the same time, unusually loud. The passing dog is startled. The two look at each other in surprise.

The woman walking him stares at the windows.
“How is it possible that those two look exactly like Harold? And two of them!”
She rings the bell.

The owner opens up.
“Harold suddenly started barking,” says the woman. “And I… I couldn't believe my eyes. Your dogs look exactly like mine.”
“Yes, extraordinary,” says the man. “Although they couldn't possibly be from the same litter. Bas and Doris are actually… both only children.”
The woman frowns.
“That is biologically quite complicated.”
“Life is full of surprises. Would you like to come in for a moment? I just made coffee.”
“Oh, that's really not necessary.”
“No trouble.”
“I was actually walking. I still have to finish an article.”

“About what?”
“Beauty products for cats.”
“For cats? And you walk a dog?”
“I am not a cat person. But don't tell anyone.”
“Of course not. Do come in.”
“Don't you think you're being rather insistent?”
“That could be. Apologies. But I find you attractive and… thought I might be able to seduce you into a kiss.”
“A kiss? In your house? I don't even know you. How do I know you don't want to kidnap me, or worse, cut me into pieces and feed me to your dogs? I can see the bloodlust in their eyes.”
“Is that so? Do you recognize it from your own dog?”
“That's possible… but I do not want to talk about that.”

“What do I have to do to win your trust?”
“Bring your dogs first. Let them meet Harold. If I can hold all three of them, I'll think about it.”
“Fine. Wait here.”
A moment later he comes back with Bas and Doris on the leash. The dogs storm cheerfully towards Harold.
“They seem to like each other,” says the woman. “I'm Marieke, by the way.”
“Ronald. Do come in.”

The interior is surprisingly ordinary.
“Coffee or tea?”
“Camomile, please.”
“I don't have that. Herbal tea?”
“No.”
“Rosehip?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“Nettle.”
“I have that.”

They talk for a bit. Then Ronald says:
“Do you want to see my collection?”
“Do you have anything left?”
“The heads, yes.”
“Oh.”

He leads her to a room where dozens of heads hang on the wall.
“Quiet,” Ronald says to the barking dogs.
Marieke grips the leashes tightly.
“Well… I don't know what to think of this,” she says.
“It got out of hand,” says Ronald. “Take this one.”
He points to the head of a dusty old man.
“He always used to sleep on a bench in the Citadel Park in the nineties.”
“And you just… took him?”
“No one ever asked questions.”

“Do you keep them all?”
“Not all of them. In the beginning I sometimes fed one to the dogs, but that caused regret. You want to be able to think back. Don't you?”
“No. I live in the moment. Thinking back gives me guilt.”
“That's part of it. You're better off letting them exist.”
“And you feel guilty too?”
“Of course. Had a lot of therapy. But tell me: what did you actually want to write?”

“Oh, I have a beauty salon for cats,” says Marieke. “Every now and then I write an article to lure customers.
I try to convince them that it pays to invest in their cat's appearance.
Whoever has a cat looks at it a lot eventually. A little bit of extra beauty can make a big difference.”
“I hadn't looked at it that way.”
“No one does. But I can convince some people. Then they come by, and Harold has a playmate again for a while.”

“Fascinating,” says Ronald, after which a silence falls.
“I have to go,” says Marieke. “It was interesting meeting you.”
“Likewise.” He hesitates. “May I ask you for a kiss after all? Just a small one.”
Marieke swallows.
“Honestly? I see you more as a friend. You are not… my type.”
Ronald nods slowly.
“Thank you for being honest,” he says softly.
He accompanies her to the door. The dogs stand neatly beside him, as if nothing was ever wrong.
“Feel free to come by again,” he says. “The dogs would like that.”
“Who knows.” says Marieke.
“Until then.” says Ronald.