The animals must have proper agency

Hill watches as Trudy places copies of The Times, The Financial Times, and The Bangor & Anglesey Mail in a pile on the kitchen table. She looks at Hill and nods, smiling as she unpacks each paper and makes separate piles for the news, financial, and sports sections.

Jesus, Hill says.

Trudy’s dog walks past Hill and towards the sink. He props himself up against the worktop, tilts his head and begins licking congealed gravy from Roger’s evening hotplate.

Can you stop him, Hill says.

I think we should introduce Ralph and Dave-cat to each other today, Trudy says. I think it’s time they met and accepted that they have to share this space. How have you been by the way?

Fine, thank you, Hill says. I don’t understand what’s happening. Ralph doesn’t live here, he’s your dog. You don’t live here. Why can’t he wait outside, or in your car? I mean, you’re not even here for the basic hours Roger pays you for.

Hill looks at Trudy and she seems possibly hurt by this comment.

Should say something nice or make a joke, Hill thinks.

But I hate Roger, so it’s all good, Hill says.

Trudy turns away from Hill and picks up a quarter-full bottle of Sherbourne Springs.

I’m joking, Hill says. I’m fucking joking.

Yeah. I suppose that works, Trudy says. She turns round to face Hill and takes a long drink from the bottle, staring at Hill the whole time, finishing the water, screwing the cap back on the bottle, placing the bottle down on the work surface, folding her arms across her chest.

Great, thank you. I’m glad you got that I was joking, Hill says. I still don’t know why they have to meet—

Ralph and Dave will be coming into contact on a regular basis for as long as you stay here with your dad, Trudy says. It’s his house, and he did say it was okay for Ralph to be here. I think we need to do this today, right now. I have to be at my PhD workshop in an hour, so I need Ralph to be here.

Okay, Hill says. I might have been busy–

I’m going to get Ralph, Trudy says. Go and find Dave and bring him into the kitchen.

Hill walks up the stairs and into his bedroom. The room has a queen-size bed, a bookshelf filled with A Level English set texts and study guides, a wide plastic clothes rail, and a small purple sink in the corner. Dave is asleep on the bed, his whiskers twitching. Hill picks him up and carries him down the stairs.

Dave, Dave, Dave, wake up, Hill says. I know this is fucked up but you need to meet Roger’s carer’s dog right now. I don’t know, if you can make it obvious how much you hate him that would be really helpful for me. I literally rescued you, Dave. Please.

Hill stops outside the kitchen door. He can hear Trudy talking to Ralph. Hill nudges Dave a little. You hate this dog okay, he says.

Hill opens the kitchen door. Trudy has brought in a dog bed from the boot of her car and Ralph is lying down in it, his tail wagging.

The animals must have proper agency, Trudy says. She walks over to Hill and takes Dave. She carries Dave over to the dog basket, making purring sounds into his ears, and places him down next to Ralph. Dave climbs into the dog basket, on top of Ralph, and starts kneading his neck. Ralph begins making a low-level guttural dog noise, his tail still wagging, rhythmically, less manically than before.

This is a disaster, Hill says. He moves towards the dog basket but is blocked by Trudy.

They like each other, they’re connected, Trudy says. I think they must have picked up on our desire to make this work.

I’m going for a shower, Hill says. If you’re making a smoothie for Roger, please can you make enough for me, and if you’re doing the cinnamon one, please can you try and make it with less cinnamon?

Trudy is taking photos of Dave and Ralph, now both asleep, sharing the dog basket.

I’ll make sure there’s not too much cinnamon, and also that there’s enough for all of us, Trudy says, raising her middle finger and aiming it in Hill’s direction. Hey look, Dave’s whiskers are twitching, it means he’s dreaming about something nice.