For the past few days graduate trainee accountant Jem Moroney has been followed by a stray dog.
It all started on Monday when Jem kem out of the train station. The dog, a mongrel he reckons, scampered over to him and started sniffing his crotch. His friends sneered, saying it was just like a normal Saturday night in Earth for him. But that wasn’t the end of it – the dog follied him home. And like a clingy bitch, hasn’t stopped follying him since.
“It’s getting beyond a joke now. The dog is there in the morning, sitting outside the gate like a dope, waiting to folly me to work. And when I get off the train it’s there, like fucking Hachi.
“I tried running home on Tuesday but dogs are faster than men. I even ran up the Glen hoping it’d lose my scent.”
After the second day Jem decided to cycle to the train station. But the dog ran after him barking at the wheels in what turned out to be a traumatic experience for the trainee accountant, reminding him of crying on his BMX while being chased by a dog as a child.
Yesterday evening, he fell foul of the Dog Warden after not cleaning up the dog’s mess on the Dublin Road. Nobody believed the dog wasn’t his. “It’s not my fucking dog!” he shouted at a couple who rang the hotline to report him. “You’re a disgrace so you are,” came the response. “Sure we see you every morning out walking him.”
He thought he was grand yesterday. He left the house an hour earlier but no sooner had he turned the corner than his waggy stalker appeared out of nowhere. Jem half expects the dog to start WhatsApping him with offers to meet for coffee and bones.
“I haven’t given it any signs of encouragement. No food, nothing. I’m at my wits end. I’ve heard some people on the train refer to me as St. Francis. I don’t want to harm the dog you know, but if it follies me round the town on Saturday people’ll think I’m the town’s youngest tramp. No birds’ll folly me then.”