‘There’s a problem.’ His voice has a Greek inflection.
‘Oh?’
He points to the hem of his trousers that are discoloured as if they’ve been wet. I’m not sure how his trousers are my concern but I’m always willing to help with a wardrobe malfunction. ‘Would you like a paper towel?’
He glares at me. ‘You dog accosted me and did this!’
‘Accosted you!Which one?’ All of our pooches are sweet-natured, if a bit cheeky. I can’t imagine any of them being aggressive.
‘That one!’ He points to teeny tiny Pee Wee and it suddenly makes sense. The damp books in Muses, the little puddles I find in the strangest places. And now this guy’s wet trouser hem.
Pee Wee is not named for his size but rather his bladder issues! Wait until I tell Gran I’ve solved the puddle mystery.
The man’s cheeks are pink with anger. And I get it. No one wants to be peed on by a rescue mutt the size of a small cat, but still, accosted is a strong word and quite offensive to Pee Wee’s happy disposition. ‘You’re suggesting this infinitesimal animalaccostedyou? How?’
‘It came right up to me and cocked its leg and didthis!’
Another day, another bookshop confrontation. No one mentions this side of retail. ‘Well that’s not exactly accosting you, is it? And to be fair, your trousers are beige. I presume little Pee Wee got you mixed up with a tree. I’m sorry but it happens.’ Pee Wee snarls in his direction. How odd!
‘That’s it? You’re sorry?’ The man’s eyes darken and I can’t help but feel I’m missing something here.
I’m dumbfounded. What else can I be? ‘Verysorry?’
Pee Wee doesn’t like the man’s tone and snaps at him, baring his small teeth, which glint in the sunlight. I’ve never seen Pee Wee act hostile before. It makes me question why. He bites the man’s dry trouser leg and tries to pull him from the entrance back into the middle of the bookshop. ‘Pee Wee! What are you …?’ I drop to Pee Wee’s level and try to loosen his fangs from the trousers but he’s latched on tight and won’t let go. Has our smallest dog really attacked this man? From his behaviour it certainly seems possible.
I look up, ready to apologise again and then I spot his hidden bounty. Books are tucked down into his trousers, his shirt just covering them. Oh Lord. This is going to be intense. My very first shoplifter caught by none other than Pee Wee the Wonder Dog. How does one navigate this sort of crisis? Calmly. With a level head.
‘PUT THOSE BOOKS BACK RIGHT NOW OR YOU’RE GOING FOR A TRIP TO THE PIG FARM AND, SPOILER ALERT, YOU WON’T BE COMING OUT AGAIN!’
The shoplifter’s eyes go wide with fear and he lets out a pig-like squeal, hastily pulling books from his trousers, his socks and places I’d rather not think about. I’m incensed for those poor tomes, being snatched in such a way.
Pee Wee goes berserk and the other dogs come running at the sound. They form a semi-circle around me and growl at the guy who sports the reddened face of someone ruing their life choices. ‘What’s your name?’ I hiss.
‘I’m no one.’
‘You’ll be no one soon if you don’t answer my question! Sixteen pigs can eat a dead body in eight minutes, and you might wonder how I know such things but it’s best you don’t!’ Oh I wish Posy could see me now!
‘It’s Vinnie, V-Vince.’
‘Well Vinnie Vince, I don’t want to ever see you around here again.’
‘You won’t. I promise.’
‘And if I do, I’ll find your Greek mom and tell her what you did!’
He holds his hands up in surrender, his expression pained. ‘Please don’t! Not that! I’d rather go to the pig farm!’
‘Don’t steal. It’s not nice.’
With that he sprints off into the distance wailing about pigs and moms.
Gran appears behind me. ‘What are they barking at?’
‘Pee Wee caught his very first shoplifter, Vinnie Vince. And it turns out Pee Wee is named not for his diminutive size but because he pees on people.’
‘Ah, Pee Wee the puddle maker! That’s one mystery solved. Who is Vinnie Vince?’
I shrug. ‘He won’t be back. I threatened to tell his mom.’ I don’t mention the pig farm as it’s best if Gran doesn’t suspect I know what really happens there. It could be innocent but I’d rather not find out.
