Good Decisions and Otherwise by Little Dog

Chapter Ten

Brian was late home from work the following Thursday, and when he finally returned, a good two hours later than usual, there arrived with him through the front door a sense of great potential. There was nothing substantially different to the appearance of either he or little dog, but from the first greeting that was heard around the house, and the sound of footsteps that followed along the hall, and then the expression on his face when he presented himself in the kitchen, the family knew that Brian was pleased with his third meeting with the police. Rebecca saw again what sort of light is hope, and so also was pleased, even if looking out more broadly she felt a sense of unease. The knots of worry with which she had before found him constricted were worked free, and once again the world was cast inside as though the coloured panes of a stained-glass lantern.

To eat that evening she had prepared shepherd's pie, with carrots and peas, alongside which Brian helped himself to a large slice of bread, and when he had buttered it and sat down their urge to understand was finally allowed to prevail, and yet, those waiting attentively for his news struggled with exactly what to ask. Alfie threw out the one question he could conceive of, for only the conclusion hoped for seemed clear, none of them able to define what lay in between.

‘Are we going to catch them then?’ he asked.

Brian's mouth was by now however full, and his audience was obliged to wait as he too considered the prospective meaning of what he had done, the interrelation of his actions in the present with the possibilities kept in store by time. The connection between the two was open, undetermined, for him just as for the robbers, who hoped for the opposite eventuality. The just correspondence may not be established, and the truth might slip away from knowledge. Once again he observed that meaning was not something to comprehend, but more a venture, a bridge to build or a net to weave.

‘We are a good step closer’ he said, and then, ‘I am ever so hungry’.

He looked up at Rebecca, thinking to compliment her - ‘delicious’ he added - but then fell back into thought at the sight of her face.

‘Alfie, Brian, understand me, there is no “we” about it’ she said.

Brian shook his head and resumed eating, reflecting that whilst to start with good intentions in general was of uncertain effect, to aim at a strong result had dubious implications for the present, and seemed to necessitate all manner of other intentions which normally he should never have imagined. Meaning is manifold, he thought.

It was only now that he had progressed past this first stage, which he had envisaged as an enabling act, the acquisition of the capability to detect his foe, that he could think of the next. Here he let go of the positive force with which he had been motivated and stopped to consider the difficulties his actions entailed. Of the diverse meanings suggested by his behaviour, some shut tight and others opened wide depending on his emotional perspective. What did it mean to be able to detect crime? It prompted a series of choices, to respond to the alert or not, to confront the criminals or not, to enforce the law or not, and to each of these choices there were different benefits and costs. Brian was prepared to pay for his prize, but what about his family? He regretted however his good mood, and felt disinclined to enter into discussion on the optimum balance between the two, which was sure to be a disagreeable conversation with Rebecca. He attempted to stick to safe ground.

‘We now have a guard dog. Perhaps we should give him a new name to celebrate, but anyway, the basic point is that if the robbers come back then little dog should be able to warn us, and then we must call the police.’

‘So they let little dog smell the jacket?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Yes he had a good look at the jacket, I mean he gave it a good sniff, and they let him see the van too. I dare say he understood - he had a knowing look about him, and he barked, so he at least I am sure is ready. But…’

He paused again to eat, deliberating upon the contrast he had come upon…

‘But what?’ asked Rebecca.

He had been thinking to say, after Protagoras, that man is the measure of all things, and therefore the meaning of a dog depends upon its owner, but of course this was to be a glib remark, for Brian did not mean only that knowledge is a question of sense perception, but that it depends on our active definition of truth, or being. Brian however knew it was unwise to elaborate upon the clause he had intended to follow the conjunction, this most famous of last words.

‘The police laughed at me’ he said. ‘In fact they were in hysterics at the idea that I would report the dog barking.’

Of course it was not the end of the conversation, and later that night, lying next to each other in bed, the subject before them, Brian's objective, the pursuit of the armed robbers, was once again raised.

‘It is a defensive, rather than an offensive measure, Brian’ said Rebecca. ‘I just want to you to reassure me of that.’

Brian said nothing for quite some time, before eventually countering.

‘I am pursuing only an idea’ he said. ‘Here is not man and dog but thought.’

‘And if little dog barks in the night, what will you do?’ she asked.

‘I refuse to be drawn on the issue of what is necessary to defend my home and family’ said Brian. ‘Anything might be necessary, to protect those things most important to me.’

‘All things in proportion’ said Rebecca, bitterly, ‘but if you are wrong, rather than right, who will defend us then?’

‘And what will you do?’ he asked in return. ‘If the robbers come through our windows this very night, what will you do?’

‘I will try not to make it worse’ she replied.

‘And no better’ said Brian.

‘And no better’ she concluded, ‘for I would rather lose my necklaces than my life.’

‘By the same motto all will be lost’ he concluded.

‘Wrong rather than right’ was all that Rebecca could say, and before long the Wright parents were asleep.