When I was about 18 yrs of age a mate of mine knocked on the door . I answered "y’alright ?"
It was Clive " Doug ! , I’ve been given a greyhound " I looked down to his left and on the end of a lead was said greyhound
"Oh !" I said raising eyebrows
" yeh ! Thing is my dad won’t let me keep it , so I was wondering " his voice sped up at this point " I was wondering if you could keep it at yours and we’ll race it and go half on feeding it and walking it "
I was stroking the dog by this point . Now as far as dogs go greyhounds aren’t good looking dogs , skinny , boney and harsh looking but this one had a light brown colour and soft features "what’s she called " I inquired whilst tickling it behind the ears whilst it licked my forearm.
" it’s racing name is Golden One , they never told me its real name so I’ve called her Goldie "
"Goldie " I said approvingly
" I’ll have to ask mum , has she won many races ?"
" yeh she’s won a few , she’s been a gud un"
" been ?" I suggested
" yeh she’s getting on but still races " he encouraged .
I asked mum and she wasn’t keen but after some badgering and with my sisters help after falling in love with the dog she relented and Goldie became part of the family .
Me and Clive took the dog out for walks every night and let it run on the playing fields . My mate studied all things greyhound , diet etc and we had to boil some stuff up every night , one meal a day to keep it fit .. The smell of the food was awful like hot weetabix mixed with rotting cabbage.
Clive was well into the racing side of it talking to all the old guys who would give him advice and telling him how dogs could be nobbled . He talked enthusiastically of matchsticks shoved up greyhound bums and boiled eggs thrown to dogs in the parade ring.
Clive rushed over to our house one night and banged on the door.
He shouted through the letterbox " Doug , Doug Were racing Golden One on fri night " I opened the door and he waved a paper , he opened it and pointed to race 3 6.54 trap 2 Golden One .. I looked further into the card and Goldies form was there for its last 6 races
3-6-5-6-6-6
" it’s come last , last three times , 4 times out of 6 .. She’s a bloody dascshund " (equvalent of donkey in horse race) I exclaimed.
" her owners didn’t walk her or feed her properly , it’s only £15 to enter her and we can win £50 " he tentatively explained making no eye contact
" what , fifteen quid ? " I said incredulously
"Yeh , it’s only £7.50 each " he said hopefully .
I earned £25 a week so it was a big chunk to risk
" my dads paying my half " he informed cheerily
" oh ! Good for you "
We had a greyhound , we walked it miles and stunk the kitchen out feeding it . It was only right to carry it to its rightful conclusion … And race it ..
Race night came at Oldham Dogs and we took Goldie up in Clive’s Dads mates van . We had to hand her over before the race to a dog handler and slip them some small change to look after the dog .. We went around to the stand to look at the betting and Golden One was 10 /1 rank outsider . I think she drifted further as no one betted on her . Clive asked if I was having a bet on Goldie – he was having two quid each way . I decided I’d lost enough money already and declined.
I must admit I enjoyed the experience of owning a racing dog .. The excitement and tension before the off was great .
Goldie was in trap 2 with a red coat on .. The hare came round the corner and the traps released .
Goldie jumped out quick and was in the lead for …. About 2 seconds .. then was passed by all the others , one by one , it looked as if she was moonwalking at one point.
Me and Clive looked at each other . Dreams shattered , the hours of walking wasted , Clive threw his betting stub to the floor and we went sheepishly to collect our dog , which had come last by some considerable margin . In fact I think we got to the collecting station before the dog . Goldie looked shattered but happily wagged her tail .. I think she enjoyed the thrill of racing again one last time . We put her in the kennels as Clive’s Dad and the Van driver betted on the next 6 races .. We just wanted to go home but had to wait for the lift.
Next day I took Goldie for a walk .. A voice boomed out from across the road " hey Doug !! Are you taking Golden One on the playing fields "? It was one of my dads mates
"Yeh .. Why ? " I asked confused , he wasn’t usually so chatty
" I was wondering if your going to get rid of it ,, let it go .. You could always run off and leave it Ha Ha Ha !! " news travels fast I though , faster than the dog anyway . I looked down at Goldie and she widened her eyes and wagged her tail – I looked away . I’m sure everyone I passed on the way to the fields pointed and laughed .
About two weeks later Clive brought some crystals around to the house " dad says we’ve to give these crystals to Goldie – they will clear her out but be careful with them or they clear your bowels out to – I had an evil thought
I put a few of the crystals in a bag and put them in my pocket … I was going out tonight for a mates birthday and thought we could prank someone by putting the crystals in their drink and seeing what happened . I was going to put them in my brothers tea but we shared a bedroom and I thought better of it.
At the pub I met my mates and told one of them about the crystals . We decided to put them in another mates drink when he went to the toilet .. Which he did ., he came back .. Me and my mate tried not to laugh but couldn’t hold it in " what’ve youse done " the intended victim asked " nowt , nothin" we each replied
He reached for his pint and I stopped him " don’t .. I can’t do it .. Well …it is your birthday after all " and told him what I’d done.
" wanker " he frowned
" I didn’t go through with it , did I ? , here Ill buy you a fresh pint – orangiboom ok "?
The offending pint was placed in the middle of the table . A few other mates came in and we offered them the pint straight away arousing suspicions then told them tale to much immature laughter.
One lad came in and he looked familiar but I didn’t know him.
I asked a mate " who’s that I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before "?
" err ! " he bobbed his head looking him over " that’s Ali , he’s a right scrounging git always cadging fags and nicking pints off tables , been in and out of borstal since he was ten " .
It was HIM !
He’d tried to rob me when I was 12 yrs old .. My blood boiled and I was going to ask him to step outside but then I had a better idea . He was milling around our table . I whispered a plan to my mates and executed it . "Hey Doug !! Is this your pint ? " loudly
" No mate ! Don’t know who’s it is , it’s been there since we came in , I think it’s been left " again crisp and loud.
We moved away from the table to the juke box leaving the pint .
We kept looking over our shoulders to see if he took the bait " is he going for it "
" not yet "
" uurr , hang on "
" nope he’s bottled it cos the barmaid walked past "
" ey up …. He’s gone for it "
I smirked as he skulked away with the beer ,
Revenge is a drink best served cold .
What happened next is another story
No I’m joking but what happened next exceeded expectation .Ali downed the pint and joined some one at the bar .. He’ll regret that I thought and I also thought I should take him outside a give him a good dig anyway . Then the look on his face changed and he sped off to the toilet . I elbowed a mate " look he’s gone to the bogs"
" do they work that fast ?"
" dunno "
Apparently they did and Ali came out of the toilet with his jumper wrapped around his waist , walking like he had a spinal injury " I’ve gotta go " he informed the "someone"at the bar. As he walked past us my mate bellowed " what’s that FUCKIN SMELL ?" And we all fell about laughing as he left the pub with his head bowed down .
That’s not all.
About a month later I was walking to town and Ali was coming the other way as he got closer he snarled and said " you the tosser that laced my drink " ?throwing his shoulders back and his chest out
" your drink " I said incredulously
" yeh , my drink at The Cranberry (pub)" wobbling his ugly head on every syllable
" yeh … And " I smirked
He threw a pathetic swing at me and I clocked him one on the mouth . He gripped hold of me like a wiry octopus trying to get me on my back . I head locked him and flipped him over my leg to the floor . I got on top and landed a few blows to his ugly mug emphasising my words as a punch landed " do YOU rememBER trying to ROB me when i was TWELVE you SHIT !! but they weren’t landing hard as he was scrambling his arms like a girly girly fighter deflecting most – a shout came from across the street " leave him alone you arsehole " I looked across at a woman loaded with shopping bags clearly distressed at the scene ,
" get off him , you big bully " Ali took this opportunity to bite my hand. It took me a little while to wrestle free my little finger from his toothy grip.
I could have gouged his eyes but that would have been to far so I pushed him off by his nose with my free palm and got up giving him a kick as I did so.
He got up and I jutted towards him head first , he backed off , spitting blood on the floor.
" fuck off or you’ll get some more " I told him
And he bounced away all cocky muttering expletives over his shoulder . The woman across the road was shaking her head and shouted to Ali " are you alright love ! " I couldn’t be arsed explaining or cared – he’d got his comeuppance twice now and I never saw him again , he probably rotted in some prison somewhere, I’m sure no good ever came from him or to him .
Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression of me I’m not a hard man or naturally aggressive even tho I look that way sometimes .. I try to be fair and careful in my dealings with people , not allowing first impressions to cloud my judgment – and ill avoid a fight if there is no good reason for it and have done so on many occasions. There have been times where i have lacked judgment through either emotion, inexperience, passion and intoxication and been sorry after and times i should have fought but didn’t. Now and then opportunity and circumstance present themselves and sometimes all you can do is react. And that’s the end of that story.
But its not the end of Golden Ones story.
Clive had taken Goldie for a walk on a rainy weekend afternoon and came back soggy but happy
" what have you got to smile about " I said intrigued
" Goldie’s in season "
"Eh? " perplexed
" she’s ripe , guy told me on the fields , he had two dogs and they were after her "
" so now we’re going into breeding are we "?
" nope ! " his faced changed for a minute as if he’d had a new thought " no , no , when bitches are in season they run faster .. Apparently " he said opening his arms out all matter of fact " I just talked to dad and he’s footing the race fee and having a big bet on her "
" yeh ! When ? "
" soon as " and he trotted off
I looked at Goldie all wet but still muscular and not an ounce of fat on her " you want one more race girl " ?she didn’t answer or give any encouraging signs.
Goldie raced mid week in the penultimate race – she was the rank outsider again 8/1 , the other dogs must have been crap to if she was only 8/1 I thought . Clive asked how much I was putting on her and I chose a £5 Clive’s dad said "put it on the immaterial" or something like that and I handed the £5 over to Clive . In the parade of dogs before Goldies race two lads started laughing " look , ha ha Golden one is running , ha ha " I’ve never been so ashamed in my life . Not only was I putting us through it but the poor dog as well .
The race started , the hare came round the track and Clive did a little double fisted air pump " come on Goldie " he was in for a lot more than me
The hare triggered the traps and Goldie jumped out first again , she sped into an early lead , at least she was enthusiastic and won the first bend . The second bend came and she was still leading with a couple of dogs tailed off now and I started to think the impossible . When she got to the third bend still leading I started cheering her on and jumping up and down .. "Go on girl .. Go on" . There was only two dogs in it on the final run in -Goldie and the favourite . they ran neck and neck until the last few strides when the favourite strode a few yards clear . Goldie had come second but gave a great race .To my surprise Clive and his dad where jumping up and down , cheering " what " !! I asked " she lost " I stated
" she won the immaterial . The fav doesn’t count we got 6/1 . Yehaaa !! "
I was glad for them winning money but a little sad she didn’t win the race .
That was Golden Ones last race .. She came up lame after and we retired her . My sister took her on as a pet and loved her for a few more years until she passed away .. Hit by a bus chasing a rabbit … No I’m joking .. It was a tractor .. No really she passed away peacefully … With a record of raced two lost two under Ball and Merton
