A Walk in the Dark
Come December, Northern Ireland is a very dark place
indeed. This can make it very difficult to walk the pup, particularly
if he is as black as the night is long. I remember one particularly
dark and early evening with great amazement. The moon had gone to
wherever moons go to make a moonless night moonless, the stars were
lost behind the usual gloomy curtain of clouds and I had forgotten to
walk the dog - again.
Most people don't realize the rut a border collie gets
into. Give the faithful creature a walk every morning and evening for
twelve years of his life, and a walk he will demand. It doesn't matter
if you are tired or busy or both - a walk is a walk and a deal is a
deal.
"Rough, Rough!"
"Whatdoyouwant?"
"Rough, Rough?"
"Shut up!"
"Rough, Rough!! ...... R O U G H?"
"Dammit, I forgot. - - - - Meg, I forgot to walk the dog. See you much
later! Byeee.."
Wag wag, "Rough Rough",
Slam the door, open gate.
Scramble scramble, THUMP/ BOUNCE .........." Yaiks"
"Away with you you idiot, you do that on purpose!"
Open car,
Scramble, scramble,
Close door, start van,
Slurp. Wag, wag. "Get that tongue out of my way."
Off we go.
Eight minutes later we parked the car in what I think
must have been the car park at the bottom end of the Roe Valley Country
Park. I say "I think we did" because the night was so black, Calcutta
had reasons to sue Limavady for trade mark infringement. I turned off
the headlights, stumbled around the car, let Tudor out of the back and
immediately got lost.
The Country Park at night
I was tempted to fumble my way back home at once. There
is no more ludicrous sight than a half blind, middle aged man walking
his dog through a pitch black night while desperately trying to clean
his glasses. It finally occurred to me that it didn't matter. It was so
dark - nobody else could possibly see me either.
Wrong again!
Right there in middle of that car park I renewed my
admiration for the varied ways of Limavady folk. As my eyes adjusted to
the dark I noticed the vague outline of a car. A dark figure leaned
into its boot - lit up by the ghostly flames of what looked like the
flickering light of an open fire.
It's not every night you see a camp fire inside the boot of a car
illuminating a strange, arm-waving person, so I hurriedly got out of
reach of those threatening tentacles and escaped as fast as I could
into the forest. The alien creature noticed my departure as little as
it had sensed my arrival. Tudor, who is mainly black - could not be
seen at all, you could only hear him.
Scramble scramble, pee, pee, scratch, scratch -
Thump. ---- Bounce, "Yaiks"
"Oh me leg! Get out of the way, you idiot, you do that on purpose!"
Wag wag....Slurp
Thus we made our uncertain way into utter darkness.
I could see neither dog, forest, path or whatever. After
a few steps
I hesitated. To my right, I knew, was a sheer drop and I hoped that
Tudor would have the good sense not to fall down it. To my left I only
remembered trees. I turned left, bumped into a solid plant bigger than
myself and felt momentarily safe.
This is when I suddenly heard the rapid approach of a
bicycle
clattering up the path at great speed, with no lights and for all I
know no bells and brakes either. The rider must either have had
excellent night vision, or the luck of the devil, because I never saw
him or his ambulance again. He was closely followed by two other bikes,
which somehow sounded smaller.
I had scarcely overcome my astonishment when what
sounded like two
young people ambled by. They were engaged in a loud conversation to the
effect that it was very dark tonight. I felt about in said darkness to
touch the dog, but Tudor was nowhere to be felt. I didn't like to
whistle, for fear that the unknown couple might take fright, flee and
tumble down that steep embankment. On reflection I felt that it was
safer, as well as more humane, to let them trip over the dog and maybe
get savaged a bit. However, the two chatterboxes went their way,
blissfully unaware of the dog-walking lunatic to their right.
At last I had the forest to myself. I could hear Tudor
rooting about in the bushes and I took a deep lung-full of the fragrant air and wondered just why this place was so busy on a
night so dark.
It was at this precise moment that I heard the
unmistakable sounds of an approaching jogger.
I kept totally quiet and touched my friendly tree,
reassuring myself that I was not in the middle of the path. Joggers are
often very fat people, with lots of mass to run you down with should
you happen to collide with them. This one sounded
enormous. How he knew where he was going, I could figure out as little
as why Limavady suddenly was populated by a race of night-seeing
cat-people.
The jogger's mode of respiration could only be described
as close to death. Presumably he had set out on a one hour jog and had
realised two hours later that it was dark and that home was further
away than his stamina. I briefly wondered whether I should shout:
"Watch out, there's a drop to your left!"
when his puffing suddenly stopped and the forest became
a shade darker and very, very silent. Somehow or other the unknown
athlete had sensed my presence. Maybe I had made a noise. Had I taken a
shower that day? Possibly he had heard the dog, who was now by my side.
Ordinarily I don't worry about stalking through the
dark. After all, if I'm afraid, how scared must everybody else be? This
time however I was worried. How could an out of breath
person be so quiet all of a sudden? Had he died of fright or worse? The
ominous silence was finally broken by a wee voice, only a couple of
feet away, asking:
"Is there anybody there?"

From left to right: The jogger, Tudor and me.
The forest hushed in silent expectation. "Don't worry"
I
croaked weakly, trying to rise to the occasion: "I'm just out walking
the dog." There was a long moment of silent relief.
Then:
"Christ" said he, with the greatest conviction, "Am I
glad! You scared the shite out of me".
Off he went, puffing into the distance. I decided that
enough was enough. Avoiding the area where he had been, just in case
that parting remark had been no idle boast, I called the dog, walked
towards the car park, yelled "Good night" to the deaf car-boot
camp-fire-enthusiast and went home.
|