Chapter 5

The Grey Man

One night shortly after the Tackeroo adventure the family was at home watching TV (an unusually quiet night by their standards) when there was a knock at the door.

Janine went to the door to be greeted by a young 20-something, smarmy, baby-faced man. Although only in his 20s he was dressed far too old for his years. He was wearing a tweed coat and shiny brown shoes.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” he said in his educated accent, not sounding as if he meant it in the slightest.

“I’m Alan Greyman from the local paper, The Post, and someone told us you have (and he kind of smirked as he said it) a dog that dances.

“We’d like to take a picture and do a story in the paper if that’s OK with you.”

“We do have a dog that dances,” Janine said matter of factly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “But it’s not any old dance. He just loves rock music and he headbangs to it.” She realised she was speaking to someone who despised rock music. Just looking at the reporter’s appearance was enough to confirm that.

He contrasted sharply with Janine’s jeans and T shirt. The situation reminded Janine of a mod and rocker standing opposite each other, a combination which was never going to work.

“Would I be able to see the dog ‘headbang’?” the reporter said, as if it choked him to say the word.

“Dunno, I’ll ask my husband and son,” Janine said. “Wait here a mo’.”

She invited Mr Greyman into the hallway and went to have a word with Alex and Lucas. The reporter stood in the hall, looking completely out of place. This was a colourful busy house. His was all grey and white, with leather sofas, far superior in his view.

“OK, come in,” Janine indicated - and introduced Mr Greyman to Cuch first, then her husband and son.

Cuch’s ears flattened a little at the sight of Mr Greyman, but he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, so gave a half-hearted wag of his tail.

Mr Greyman said he’d seen the footage on U Tube, but wanted to see the dog perform for himself.

“What would you like? AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Metallica?” Alex asked the reporter, who already looked too hot and stuffy in his ridiculous thick coat and jumper, with the shirt collar peaking neatly over the crew neck.

Greyman visibly winced at the band’s names.

“Whatever you think Cooch will like,” he said sarcastically.

“It’s Cuch,” Lucas corrected.

“Crutch?”

“No, Cuch.”

“Oh. Cuch,” the reporter said, but in such a way as to make it sound clear he thought the name was ridiculous. He checked the spelling and wrote it in his notebook.

The TV was turned off. Cuch looked excited already as the CD player was turned on. And then he thoroughly excelled himself as usual dancing to AC/DC’s ‘Thunderstruck’.

Greyman looked thunderstruck, oddly ill at ease in such laid back surroundings.

He asked a number of questions matter of factly and took a photo of Cuch and Lucas together in ‘dance pose’.

As soon as he had all the information he needed, it was as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.

But he managed to thank the family and assured them their story would be in that week’s paper.

Lucas was quite excited at the prospect of being in the local press.

What the family didn’t expect when The Post landed on their doorstep was massive front page headlines and a huge picture of Lucas and Cuch dominating the page.

They scanned the page and were surprised how well written it was, given that the reporter had seemed so stuffy.

DANCIN’ DOG ROCKS THE TAC’ the headline screamed.

“A Cannock family took on more than they bargained for when they bought a collie cross from a local rescue.

“The dog is ‘into rock music’ - and last week could be found headbanging at the Tackeroo where he joined in with crowds of headbangers in the mosh pit.

He dances at home to classic rock tracks most nights.

Cuch (rhymes with ‘Butch’), about 3 years old, lives with his owner Lucas (16) and his parents Alex and Janine Lee.

The family discovered the pooch’s ‘talent’ when they put their classic rock CDs on.

They were astounded when the dog started nodding his head in time to the music, leaping into the air and dancing with Lucas.

“We were all just amazed when he started headbanging,” Janine, 38, told The Post.

“He really rocks,” Lucas said. “He’s so cool.””

Lucas showed Cuch the front page.

“Look mate. You’re famous!” he said.

Cuch went off to the kitchen for a drink, kind of nonchalantly.

“Wish he could talk,” Lucas said.

“I’d love to know if he’s always done this - or if someone trained him.

“I’m going to ring that God-awful rescue centre,” Janine said. “See if I can get some more information about where he was found.”

She found the number and rang straight away. It was a very frustrating phone call. Lucas could tell from his mum’s reaction that the girl on the end of the phone couldn’t be bothered to talk to her. Said she was too busy to look into the record sheets. Told Janine to ring back later - obviously hoping she wouldn’t.

But Janine did ring back a couple of hours later and the same girl answered, sighed a bit, then said she still hadn’t time to check.

“Maybe I could call into the centre personally,” Janine suggested, politely but firmly.

That seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, I’ve just found the file. Wait a minute,” came the reply.

“When did you have the dog from us? What date?

“Yes, here’s his records. He was found wandering in Aston, Birmingham. He had been spotted hanging around for week and was starving. No-one knew where he had come from.”

“OK, thanks for that,” Janine told her.

So Cuch was from Aston. It wasn’t much information, but at least he had a rock pedigree.

After all, he had walked the same streets as Ozzy Osbourne, she told her husband later.