The ginger haired man saw her from the window, as she passed by his house in the early morning of autumn. Her nimble feet made splashing noises in the little puddles of rainwater that had formed in the ruptured tar of the grey road. He spat a fine thread of saliva on his fingers, and then gently rubbing it between his fingertips, slicked his hair back from the forehead. His thinning hair betrayed the naked patches on his head. He rushed out of the door and caught her in time, just as she was about to cross the road and move to the opposite end.

“Hello!” he greeted her enthusiastically, as she paused her steps and turned around to see him.

“Hello. Do I know you?” she asked, perplexed.

“No, I don’t think so. You see, it might rain anytime, and a young girl like you ought to be careful. You don’t want to miss school because of pneumonia. Here, take it.” He produced a small pink umbrella from the back of his hand and handed it over to her.

“Thank you, uncle. But I don’t think I need it…It’s not raining anymore, and I doubt if it would rain today…”

“Oh! It just might. Here, don’t be shy…” He thrust the umbrella into her hand. A sly smile broke at the corner of his thin, wide lips.

“Thank you, uncle. I pass by your house every day. My friend and I sometimes stop near your verandah to see your dog…” The girl began, smilingly, as she fidgeted with the umbrella in her hand.

“She is my bitch,” he replied.

The violence in his words startled her. He looked at her with keen eyes. She dropped her eyes evasively, and from the periphery of her eyes, checked to see any sign of the oncoming school bus.

“I am sorry…Perhaps you don’t know what a bitch is. A female dog is called a bitch. But a male dog is a dog.” He felt her shifting uncomfortably in her shoes. Her white stockings covered her smooth-shaven legs to her knees.

“I think I should go now…My mother has asked me to be wary of strangers…I am sorry…”

“We are no strangers now. You can come and play with my bitch anytime you like. I see you come back from school at two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah. The school bus drops at two-thirty sometimes…”

“I fill her pail at around quarter to two. Perhaps…you and I, both, could feed her…”

Their conversation was disturbed by a screeching noise of the breaks skidding on a wet floor. The girl turned around and saw the driver honking at her impatiently.

“I need to go now. Bye!” She left hastily and started running towards the bus.

“Will you come in the noon, then?” he shouted at her as she boarded the bus and drove away.

The man entered his house and locked the door silently. He heard his dog bawling in the other room. He picked up the newspaper from the front table, and then rolling it firmly, started walking towards the other room.

The room reeked of urine and milk. He saw her trying to escape from the leash tied around her neck. She jumped at him, with her front legs raised in protest. Her eyes conveyed both anger and fear, with a deep subservience, at the same time. Squatting down on the floor, he edged his hand closer to her face, and then cupping it gently, jabbed her head with the tightly coiled newspaper. He hit her repeatedly, till her bawling turned into a low muttering sound. Wiping the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, he pushed his hair back, and stood up, sighing from exertion. With the tip of his toe, he gently pushed the plastic pail near her foaming mouth. He emptied a quarter carton of milk into the pail, and then seeing her splayed on the floor with her pink tongue sticking out, drew the curtains back on the window, and left the room in stilted darkness.

The man always felt the tightness in his oversized pants while eating at the table. His crotch bulged outwards as he drew in his legs and sat in an upright position. But today, he felt his organ firmly jutting against the zipper. He opened the zipper and let his swollen pride breathe openly between his legs. He swallowed a spoonful of milk and cereal, when the image of a pair of white stockings, neatly laid down on wet mud, came to him in a flashing instant. He gulped down another spoonful, and then slowly started circling the rim around the head of his organ.

He liked reading The Economic Times. It gave him terms he could speak to himself and no one else—relishing the different sounds as they escaped from his tongue. The newspaper, earlier coiled tightly, now laid spread on the table, with at least a thousand striations running through it. He was a fine economist. The world is in a mess—he conceded. He made the new stocks bleed and inflation run contagious, at his will. He used his knowledge of the economy as a tumor to oppress the world. He wanted the world to suffer for what it has done to him. Dirty and disgusting. His hands quivered, as a stream of fresh semen poured out from his vessel. He took the last spoonful from the bowl, and then wiping his hands against the upholstery of the chair, put his limp organ back into the pants, and got up from the table.

The girl peeked into the house from the crevice of neatly drawn curtains, in front of the window adjacent to the main door. She longed to see the dog that was usually chained outside in the verandah. She dropped on her heels as she heard the main door open with a clicking noise.

“So you came,” the man replied, as he proudly beamed at her.

“I…actually—your umbrella—I had to return it!” she fumbled.

“You came to see my bitch, didn’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Why did you lie to me then? We are friends, and friends share each other’s secrets. They don’t tell lies to each other.”

“I am sorry…”

“That’s okay. Come inside.” He held the door for her as she nervously tiptoed her way into the hall.

The house seemed oddly vacant. There was a large oak table at the center with only two chairs at its opposite ends. A glass bookcase ran along a full wall of the room, which seemed strangely awkward in the whole setting. The house smelled of burnt wood and limestone shavings.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the man said, as he closed the door behind her.

The girl moved to a padded chair near the hearth and seated herself comfortably. The man came along and sat opposite to her at the divan. He pushed his feet up in the air and moved back on the divan, resting his back against the wall.

“You’re terribly thin for a girl of your age!”

The girl giggled. Her initial nervousness was starting to melt away.

“I am the tallest in my class!” She squeaked, with bright eyes.

“I am sure you must be. You…you are a wonderful creature, I hope you know that…Nature has made a boy and a girl differently.”

“Nature? Like, plants and animals?” she expressed dubiously.

“Yes. You know, like I told you the difference between a dog and a bitch…remember?”

“Yeah…Where is your—bitch?” she gulped as she said the last word.

“My bitch is here only. So, tell me, what do you know about a boy?”

“My mom tells me that boys are rude. Although, my best friend is a boy, and he is never rude to me.”

“Very good! What else do you know?”

“Boys act tough, but they cry too. Once I saw my father crying…and I started crying too. Mom came and hugged him, and told him not to worry too much. And then when he saw me crying, he hugged me tight and promised me he would never cry.”

“How does it feel when your father hugs you…?”

“His beard…it feels stingy.”

“Men, umm, sorry, boys…have hair on their body…and even their face.”

“When can I see her?” she asked impatiently, with her lower lip jutting out. She was getting weary of the conversation. She couldn’t understand why the man would take so long to introduce her to his dog.

The man drew his gaze over her long pale legs. He seemed unconcerned of her persistent querying. He wished to wrap her legs with the loose sheets of his newspaper, and read out the news from her legs.

“My bitch is sleeping. She had a heavy breakfast in the morning. You can see her tomorrow. I will wash and dress her up for you to see her. How about that?”

“You will do that?” she looked at him with widened eyes, skipping with excitement and curiosity.

“I can do anything…for you.”

“Thank you!”

“What can you do for me?” he asked, with a startling urgency in his voice.

The girl looked at him doubtfully. There was an awkward silence that ensued.

“I am sorry. You are too young to do anything for me. Although…if you like, you can hug me…”

The girl stood up from the chair and walked up to him. She drew her arms around him and gave him a warm hug. Then, she withdrew abruptly.

“What’s the matter?”

“I am sorry…your beard, it hurts…”

The man quickly ran his hand on his cheek and felt the stubble a little prickly.

“I promise I will shave them off when you come tomorrow.” He looked down at her and gave an encouraging nod.

She smiled at him.

“I need to go now. My mom gets worried if I reach home late.”

“Yes, by all means, you must leave. However, do not mention this to your mother or father. They…are not like us…they wouldn’t understand…I hope you’re getting what I’m trying to tell you.”

The girl felt a chill run down in her body. The man’s eyes seemed both menacing and re-assuring, at the same time. She felt a recoiling sensation in her belly.

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow.”

The man saw her shadow leap outside the door, as she passed away swiftly, dancing on her nimble feet into the pewter light of the day.

The man lathered his face with thick foam, and with scientific precision, ran a silver razor across his face. He put the razor back on the sink and carefully noticed his tiny hairs sticking to the foam on the blade. He was happy to part with them at last. He cupped his hands and splashed water on his face repeatedly until the foam washed away. He then took a dry hand towel from the holder near the washbasin and dabbed his face dry. The man who looked back at him in the mirror was no longer the man he knew. He appeared fresh and youthful. The washbasin smelled of soap and old age. He felt the tightness around his nose and smiled at himself.

He put his dog into the washbasin and cleaned her bruised body with special care. She rested her head peacefully over the edge of the basin and closed her eyes as the water streamed around their corners. Her body quivered when the water touched the spots where the hair had been pulled out. He lowered his hands onto her abdomen and then her genitals. He looked at her with wistful eyes and found it re-assuring to own her body safely intact.

The boy and the girl stood eagerly waiting outside the door after ringing the doorbell twice.

“We shouldn’t be doing this!” The boy nervously tugged at her frock.

“Shhh…He is my new friend! I told you!” she hissed.

“Your mom will not like this when she knows–” he was cut short as the door swung open. He saw an old man with a tanned, clean-shaven face glaring at him. The man had an unsettling look on his face.

“Good evening!” the girl chirped. “I brought my best friend to see her. I told him that you had invited me.”

“Hello, sir. I hope we are not bothering you…” the boy began cautiously.

The man took a moment to consider.

“No. You both can see her.” He stepped away from the entrance as they both proceeded inside the house.

The girl found the dog tied on a leash to the wooden post near the dining table. She ran towards her excitedly and started stroking her fur with both her hands. The boy paused to look at the man and then went on to join her.

The man eyed the boy with livid disgust. He was shocked at the girl’s betrayal. The boy’s youth posed an immediate threat to his own. He observed them petting his dog with lovable strokes, amidst incoherent chatter.

“Sir, does she generally snort when you feed her something?” the boy asked.

“All bitches do…you need to calm them down, first. But I wouldn’t expect a young man such as you to know that. It takes time…and experience.”

The boy was puzzled. He couldn’t comprehend what the man meant. He quickly glanced at the girl, and then, like some implacable urge he couldn’t tame for long, he bent over and whispered into her ears, “I think we should leave now. This is not a nice place.”

The girl was agitated. She elbowed his face away angrily, and replied, “I am not bringing you with me again! Why can’t you just sit quietly and play with her?”

“If you fight me on this…I swear I am not talking to you again. I will tell your mom everything.”

“You won’t–”

“Yes, I would! Now, just get up and come with me. Don’t question me!”

“But…”

“Now.”

The girl got up unwillingly. The boy held her hand and motioned her behind him. The man was stung.

“We are getting late. Her mother…she has asked us to be home on time.”

“I wouldn’t hold you back. She knows where I live…she can come and see me anytime she likes,” he replied, with his gaze intent on the girl who was slowly disappearing behind the boy.

“Thank you,” the boy replied, with a grim determination in his face.

The man saw them as they walked out from the door. He looked at his dog and found her shrunken into a warped ball on the floor. She lay on her back with her paws raised in the air. He took out his unclean razor from the washbasin and silently walked to where she lay.

The dog eyed him with fear and subservience. She knew the horror that he had prepared to unleash on her. He knew that, too. Her helpless cries would be drowned by the nightfall. And again she would have to rely on her master for her daily fill.