Chalk Circles of Bowlingreen
There it was, clear as day, right in the middle of the path. Right where she was about to step. So obviously there. Displayed like an exhibit, in Barry’s ‘modern art gallery’.
This was the first for months. The occasional miscreant, yes, but one could side step. It wasn’t a problem. Not a challenge.
But today, a new dawn. Right outside her front door. A dog shit. Not point in beating about the bush it’s a dog shit. A shit. An S H I T. Shit.
She went back into the kitchen and sat, overlooking the garden. Tulips, Dahlias, Marigolds, all in their place. She dipped her fingers in the Finger Bowl: warm water and lemon, and settled her breath. Something had to be done. She could go and ‘deal with it’, take his shovel from his shed and think no more of it; but would that put an end to it? No. Vera who had completed the 12 steps to empowerment would not bow out so easily.
Step 5. ‘Problem solving the problems in your life’
“List issues you are finding difficult and circle them. Then assassinate them.”
Circle them. Highlight them. Make an example.
She took Barry’s snooker cue back from the bin, where she’d thrown it with the last of his belongings. She tore out the nib and forced a fresh pink chalk into the end. Outside the front gate ‘PooCue’ in hand, she drew a clear, defined circle around the turd. She considered an arrow. No, too much. Stepping back in admiration, she nodded, placed the PooCue in the hedge and with a lightness in her step she set off. Today had not beat her after all.
Arriving home at 4pm the mess was still there, but so also, was her circle. She imagined saving neighbours shoes, children from blindness; well done Vera…. but all was not roses. Half way through the victory jig in her mind she spied something on the lane to the right.
ANOTHER ONE! Within two metres of the first, on the same day, another stinking turd! Striding over she hovered: fists clenched, brow quivering. She stamped. One leg warmer dropped to her ankle. Two poos.
That was the moment she heard it. A voice coming from the house across the lane. “Bloshnov yeeterrtybuggerybark.” The Polish.
Like the newspaper had forseen, The Polish had invaded Bowlingreen. And they had brought their dogs, their shitting, law breaking dogs. Soon their recycling bins would overflow with no-vowelled Beer cans. Out came the PooCue- circle drawn. And another one for clarity, WITH AN ARROW.
Kitchen, finger bowl, flowers. Hooooooof.
Chalk was not enough. She could highlight yes, but this wasn’t going to end it.
She needed firm evidence. She must catch them in the act.
Vera took a chair and placed it in the far corner of the garden. With a miniature trowel she created a gap in the hedge. Thermos, camera, notebook., all set. No poo unspoken for on Bowlingreen.
Mr Clutterbuck, from number 29, edged past with Freddo, his Daschund, and caught her eye though the hedge hole. “Vera”. He said. Wanting to ask, but not wanting to too. “Everything ok?”
Oh yes, she replied, just keeping guard.
Freddo made the position and squeezed one out, then scraped its rear along the pavement. It sat there for a moment while the humans searched for something to say. Clutterbuck took a Sainsbury’s bag from his anorak pocket, folded the poo within and met her eyes again.
“Be seeing you then.“
Bowlingreen had become a freeforall in dog walking terms. On Wednesdays the professional dog walkers would come. Umpteen hundred dogs on umpteen hundred leads, a swarm of locusts in Goretex.
Her Negativity Shadow encroaching, she focused on the present. By 7pm 23 people had passed. Three dogs had joined the humans. One poo, one wee. All cleared. Mrs Smith had even used a bottle of Evian to wash away the wee, very thoughtful, thought Vera, she will receive a Christmas card after all.
9pm it started to rain. Who would walk their dog at this time of night anyway? Pre-recorded ‘Strictly’ awaited. Vera packed up and went indoors.
The next day was bright and clear, morning dew hung on her Dahlias. Vera refreshed the finger bowl with spring water and rose petals. ‘rose petal Wednesday’; she said. She ate half a grapefruit, and after visiting the loo she headed out, keen to see if the chalk had held though the night. ‘Waterproof Chalk’ she thought: a Dragons Den moment.
Strange. The chalk had held but the poo had gone. Cleared away then. The culprit had come home late, seen the circle, had a word with them selves and cleaned it up. Perturbed at how simple it had been, she toed round to see number 2. Number 2, she smirked Number T…
The second circle also remained but the poo was no longer inside it. The poo was now outside the circle. It was the same poo but it had been moved! Vera froze, gripped in an inexplicable fury when a small blonde lady appeared.
“Very odd” an accent thick with East Europe.
“Why a circle next to poo? This is art? This a Banksy?”
The girl pushed her headphones into her ears and gave a smile that both sickened and patronised.
‘Have a good day’
and off she popped.
“Very odd? Yes, it is odd, Polski.” Vera muttered “very ODD!”
Vera was waiting when the girl came home. She had spent the afternoon doing topiary as a ruse. A pretty neat move she’d thought, no one would suspect her ‘personal CCTV’ and a ‘box hedge ballerina’ could only improve the area. Vera blundered over just in time to catch her before she went inside.
“Oh hello again” said Vera. “I just wanted to give you this”
Vera had spent her lunch hour printing out flyers.
PLEASE CLEAR UP YOUR DOG DOO in Sans Comic, italic.
“I’m posting them through all the doors, you know, just a shame that people won’t clear up their mess.”
“Yes, thank you, if I ever get a dog I’ll be sure to remember”
“if you ever get a dog!” replied Vera, louder than necessary
“yes. if I ever get a dog”
there was an awkward pause before Vera went back to her hedge chair.
Vera had always been a confident woman. Not over brash, but secure. When Barry left her for Clive it was upsetting, but she could cope. She had interests, self improvement courses…..topiary. Now, it felt that someone was meddling with her very existence. Who would move a poo outside of a circle? A perfectly good chalk circle, only there to highlight the danger, point the wrongdoer to their crime? Was she so wrong? Was she to become a victim in her own home? She sat back, defeated, eyes flickering, her vision a blur, the ridiculousness of the situation too much for her. The dog walking team came, a flurry, she couldn’t make head nor tail, there were barks and Poopascoops, plastic bags and whistles. Vera gave up and began to weep.
EXCUSE ME!
came a call came from the Polish house.
Loud. Accented. Glottled.
YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING!
The professional dog walkers stopped. Silence on Bowlingreen. The moment the outlaw enters the saloon. Our little polish girl was standing in the chalk circle.
YOU SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING
She picked up the poo with a shovel and held it aloft.
PLEASE, TAKE THIS AWAY WE DON’T WANT IT ANY LONGER
The head dog walker, a grizzly in Gortex passed the leads to the 2nd in command. She steamed back to the lane and eyed the example.
‘That isn’t ours. We do this route on Wednesdays. That’s a Tuesday poo.’
BUT YOU COULD TAKE IT AWAY COULDN’T YOU? YOU’RE GOING THAT WAY ANYWAY. Eyeing the poop bin 30 yards up the street.
From nowhere Mr Clutterbuck arrived, a Tesco bag in hand and joined the girl. She tipped the shovel, he tied the bag and they presented the specimen to the dog walker.
You are going that way. Please take this. Please. Its for our health.
Dogwalker met eyes with Clutterbuck, the girl and finally Vera. Vera nodded, and smiled, a sunset smile, with ‘you’ll be ok kid’ eyes.
Dogwalker took the bag and floated back to the team. Feeling different but not quite sure why she continued the 30 yards to the poop bin. Popping up the lid she looked back. On the corner of Bowlingreen stood Clutterbuck, Vera and the Pole. Freddo the Daschund at their feet. They were holding hands, the girls head on Vera’s bosom. As the dog walkers faded into the evening the three neighbours shared a moment.
“I’ll be seeing you Vera.” Said Clutterbuck.
“Good bye” said the girl. “It’s Magda”
And Vera went into the house and ran a bath. With camomile and cardamom.
In her head, she added two more names to her Christmas card list.
