The Bitch From Boränge – Chapter 11

The Bitch From Boränge

ellie-snow-dogChapter 11 – by Ellie                                                                                 18 February 2017

I was dog tired after a hard day, but still kilometres to go, I guessed. No sign of Smoothy, or lucky rat that got away. Seems odd they should be hanging out together—doesn’t smell right. In the mean time, I believe I’ve sniffed out what The Smooth is up to. There’s a kat show up ahead, a big one. World Show. International. I’ve read about it. ‘Kitties Karry Karat Weights of Gemstones’ Aftonbladet’s headlines read. Lulu Rashid is expected to appear this weekend, wearing a diamond collar worth millions. A bejewelled Siamese named Magnolia will also be showing off.  The Diamond Devas, they were called—the main attractions. Very interesting.

There was a Norwegian rat . . . some kind of diamond heist a couple years ago, I’m thinking as I trot up to the entrance. It might cost a bone or two to get inside the show—but I see the signs. “No Dogs!”

I can’t believe it—Racist bastards, here, in Sweden. I’m starting to attract attention, so I leave, trot down the steps back onto Johannesgatan. Now What? Smooth is in there . . . and the rat. Is he there too? I decide to catch him and his little friend on their way out, but Smooth is not spontaneous, he plans things—takes his time.

I cross the street and take a snow bath in the park. Feels good to wash the dye off my expensive coat. I shake loose from the snow and see a bar across the street, The Fatal Feline. They might not refuse a drink, if I say who I am—won’t be on friendly crowd, I’m sure.

I stride inside the place like I’m familiar with it. Pussys everywhere, two coons, and a weasel that looks like part of an old coat. Furs stand on end and backs arch as I make an entrance, but whatever. I act nonchalant.

“Dog water, straight up,” I tell an ancient Persian katender.

“We don’t do dog water,” he says. “Kat beer’s is all we got.”

kat-beer-fixedI don’t usually drink beer, but when I do, I make sure it’s not Kat beer. The Persian might be jerking my chain, but I throw him a bone and take my beer bowl to a window table. The customers settle down as I nurse my drink. More than a few of them are high on nip, but that’s someone else’s problem. I just need a spot with a view to wait out the next hour or so.

 

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About Bruce Louis Dodson

Bruce Louis Dodson is an American expat now living in Borlänge, Sweden with his wife, cat and dog. He is an artist and world traveler who writes fiction and poetry and practices photography in his less than copious free time. His work has appeared in: Barely South Review - Boundaries Issue, Blue Collar Review, Pulsar Poetry (UK), Foliate Oak, Breadline Press West Coast Anthology . The E-buffet, Qarrtsiluni, Struggle Magazine, Pearl Literary Magazine, Contemporary Literature Review: India, 3rd Wednesday, Sleeping Cat Books - Trip of a Lifetime Anthology, Northern Liberties Review, Authors Abroad - Foreign & and Far Away Anthology, The Path, Page & Spine, The Crucible, Sleeping Cat Books -Trips of a Lifetime, Vine Leaves, Pirene's Fountain,Tic Toc Anthology - Kind of a Hurricane Press, Cordite Poetry Review, Buffalo Almanac and mgv2.
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4 Responses to The Bitch From Boränge – Chapter 11

  1. no pot for dogs then ????

  2. Cindy Harris says:

    Dog water, Kat beer…what next?

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