The poor dogs of Budapest
by Daniel Frears

 

 

The poor dogs of Budapest were having a hard time, and it didn’t look like getting better any time soon. Over the past few weeks there had been growing numbers of dogs disappearing, at first steadily, one or two here and there, but the frequency had been increasing and scores of dogs had seemingly vanished into thin air in the previous couple of weeks.

What had at first been a slight concern -  and presumed to be random occurrences of dognapping - was now very much an epidemic. The first suggestion of this disturbing pattern was noted on October 25th, which was 48 days ago, it now being December 12th. This isn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things, but if you were a dog owner in Budapest then these 48 days would have seemed to stretch out interminably.

On the evening of October 25th Delphine took her pet Saluki, Ariane, for a walk in the park close to her house, as was their custom. The park is located next to the Danube river which runs through the heart of the city, and with it being five minutes away was the perfect place for her to take Ariane for a much needed run, also clearing her own head after what was often a rigorous day at work.

Delphine would keep Ariane on a leash until they arrived at the entrance to the park and then let her off. Ariane knew the drill well. She would show the utmost poise and restraint whilst tethered, then bolt as though from the starting blocks when the time came, sprinting headlong as soon as the tension around her neck was released. You were allowed dogs off the leash in the majority of the park, and Delphine had never worried much that Ariane would act in a foul way, even if she were to stray into one of the few more protected areas. She was well trained and incredibly intuitive, so once she had shot off Delphine could meander through the park at her leisure, stop and sit for a while if she liked, take different paths even, knowing that Ariane would come back to check in every now and then.

This evening's walk started the same as any other; they strolled calmly alongside the river towards the park gates. It wasn’t bitterly cold by any means, but with it being late October the air definitely had a chill once the sun was down. It was a weeknight and they had left a little later than usual, so there were few people on the path. Delphine liked it when it was quiet as she could better take in the dark surface of the river which shimmered in the city lights. She had grown up around a lot of water, so seeing this was a simple pleasure for her. Her breath was just visible, rising and disappearing before her eyes, and she looked down at Ariane to see if hers was as well. Her dog looked back up at her gaze with her long muzzle closed tight.

They were nearly at the park entrance when rain started falling, not hard, but enough that it introduced that next layer of chill; pronounced somewhat as Delphine hadn’t taken a hat or umbrella with her, which she quietly cursed herself for. Anyway, Ariane certainly didn’t care about the cold or the rain and Delphine knelt down and unclipped the leash. She had barely straightened back up before Ariane was sprinting across the first open patch of grass. It was late, it was cold and it was wet and Delphine didn’t feel much like walking - it had been a particularly long day at work - so she followed the main path through the park, this being the best lit and shortest of all of the routes available.

Once or twice she saw Ariane appear from a row of bushes or thicket of trees, cast an opened mouthed grin at her owner and then disappear again. Delphine was nearly three quarters of the way through her loop of the park when she noticed that she hadn’t seen Ariane for a while. She had been walking with her head down, pacing along faster than usual due to the rain, and hadn’t been thinking of much other than getting home to warm up and eat. Delphine took a lot of pride in barely ever having to call Ariane, as though the less she had to do it the more it consolidated both the dog's intelligence and her own skills as an owner. But she was in a rush tonight and only thought twice before succumbing.

“Ariane.” she called, casually.

After a few seconds there was no sign of the dog, so she repeated the call a little louder, not deeming it necessary to use anything more than her name. When that attempt and another thirty seconds or so had elapsed Delphine had her first thought of something being out of the ordinary. As much as she hated to do it she decided she’d have to shout now, aiming it in the direction that she had last seen her.

“Ariane!” the words flew off into the darkness “Where the hell are you.” Delphine muttered to herself. The rain was falling harder and she had to make a decision as to what she did next, not having been in this position before. She looked in every direction and could see no-one else in the park, no-one that she could ask for help; one of the few times that she rued a lack of people around her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and continued along the path, hoping that Ariane was waiting at the gates for her to catch up. She would shout her name every few steps, each time towards a different corner of the park, but still there was no response.

When she got to the end of the path the bright lamps at the gate showed clearly that there was no dog waiting for her, just rain falling steadily through the light and onto the slick black paving. Delphine was worried. Until this point she had only been asking herself when Ariane would appear, considering how she would discipline the dog for causing her such a fright, but now that it seemed increasingly likely that she was lost, the panic set in.

Delphine immediately turned around and retraced her steps through the park, deciding that going back along the same path was the best option; she moved somewhere between a power walk and a jog, shouting as loud as she was able to the whole time. She was not a noisy person in any area of her life, and a few times she realised that she probably hadn’t ever used her voice in this way before. These thoughts quickly fell aside as another ten metres, then another twenty metres provided no joy in her search. Towards the point at which they had entered the park she took a side path to a small, circular seating area which was home to some vibrant flower beds.

One of the only times that she’d had to reprimand Ariane was here, when she had been a few month old puppy and was still building her recall abilities. Delphine hoped beyond hope that she would arrive to find her dog guiltily looking back at her from one of the flower beds, a foot or so deep in an eagerly dug hole, or maybe chewing on some of the tulips or lilies that were kept here, but when she turned the corner onto her imagined scene there was nothing; just the scant moonlight and more rain falling to the ground.

Delphine started to cry. You can’t ever anticipate exactly how you’ll feel about a pet, or react when they come to some misfortune, but Delphine was utterly forlorn. The only sounds she could hear were her own heaving sobs and the thick raindrops slapping against leaves and bouncing on the path around her. Ariane was gone, for sure, and she knew it.

 

 

Ariane was the first poor dog of Budapest, or at least as far as we’re aware. Delphine stayed in the park for another hour that night, traipsing back and forth, shouting until she was completely hoarse, shivering in the increasingly heavy downpour until it became too much and she returned home.

She phoned the police to lodge a report and the next day, on their advice, she went to the station to show proof of ownership and provide them photos of her beloved dog. The officer taking her report was a man in his 50’s by the name of Henrik; a First Lieutenant that hadn’t risen in rank for the past twenty years of his time with them, but this was mostly because he didn’t want to. The extra work it would require and responsibility that it would bring were just too much for him to concern himself with, but whilst he was fairly low-ranking, Henrik was respected, because he could speak to people in a certain way. If there were ever someone coming to lodge a report, or give a statement, then those in his precinct would look to have Henrik deal with them, if at all possible, because of the solace he could provide. Delphine had said that she would be arriving at 8am sharp and as such Henrik was lined up to greet her. When she appeared it was clear that she was distressed, though this didn’t phase Henrik.

“Hello Madam.” he said in a deferential tone. Not pitying or authoritative, just a human sound. Henrik noted Delphines red, puffy eyes and smiled at her in his soothing way.

“Please, if you’ll come with me then we can get you comfortable and try to make this process as quick and easy as possible. Would you like a drink of some sort? There’s tea, coffee, water, maybe even some juice if you’d rather.” Delphine only shook her head and followed him down the sterile corridor. Once they’d arrived at the assigned office Henrik held the door open and invited her inside. “Take a seat wherever you’ll be most comfortable.” he said, and followed her in, shutting the door softly.

“As I say, we’ll try to make this as painless as possible for you.” Henrik said as he sat down opposite Delphine, sliding a pad of paper and a pen in front of him. “If you can tell me exactly what happened with as much detail as possible then I can get this report filed and start looking for your dog immediately.”

Delphine recounted the previous evening and really did spare no detail; her account was incredibly concise, which impressed Henrik. He made his notes as swiftly as he was able, only asking once or twice that she pause whilst he caught up, then politely inviting her to continue. As soon as Delphine reached the end of her story she stopped speaking and clasped her hands, staring at a space on the table between them. “First of all Delphine, I’m very sorry to hear about Ariane. I have a dog of my own and I can only imagine how you’re feeling, not knowing where she is. On the positive side, your statement is comprehensive, and with this we have the best chance of getting her back as soon as possible.”

Delphine nodded but didn’t raise her eyes.

“I’d like you to call all of the local animal shelters as soon as you have a chance, and if you use social media then post in any places that you think could prove useful, as well as these.” he said, handing her a piece of paper which he had handwritten earlier that morning containing page names, groups and communities that could possibly offer help. “From here I’ll lodge your report and we will start looking for Ariane right away.”

At this point the person in Henriks company would often let out some kind of sigh of relief, or show an ever so slight curl on their lips, assured by his words, but Delphine was unmoved. Her hands were clasped tight, her gaze unmoving.

“Delphine, are you alright? Is there anything else that I can help you with, or offer at the moment?”

Realising that her role was finished for now she stood up silently and held out a cold, white hand towards Henrik who got up hastily from his seat and reached for it, taking it in his own much thicker grasp.

“Thank you Lieutenant.” she said a little unsteadily. “I have a rather bad feeling about this. I know that these situations must come up all the time, but this doesn’t feel normal. Do you know what I mean? It’s obviously bad, and of course I can feel it in a much more visceral way than anyone else would because it’s my dog that’s missing, but something about it just feels unusual, maybe freakish in a way. It’s hard for me to describe, but, do you follow, Lieutenant? Have you ever felt what I’m trying to describe?”

Henrik was a little bewildered, which was uncommon, but he remained as measured as ever and allowed just an extra second or two for a response to form.

“Delphine, I think that I understand what you’re saying. These types of situations are very complicated to begin with, and then some strange feeling or omen can come over us and it just makes the whole thing even more cloudy. I only have the details you’ve given me, and like I say, it’s a very extensive account, but as for any particular strangeness in this case, I’d have to pick that feeling up as I learn more. I hope that what I’ve said makes sense. It’s hard to provide anything more substantial when it’s brand new to me.”

Delphine’s underslept eyes peered into Henrik as he finished speaking, and she gave his hand - which incidentally she’d been holding the whole time that he spoke - a squeeze and then let it go.

“I appreciate your time and your words Lieutenant. I think that you do understand me.” and with this she turned to leave the office. “No need to see me out, I know the way.”

 

Forty seven days had passed since Delphine’s report was lodged and in this time almost 400 dogs had been registered as missing in Budapest, with the volume of cases growing by the day. There had been twenty eight alone in the last 24 hours. The numbers were unfathomable given that in the twelve months prior to this outbreak there had only been 284 in total. When Henrik had taken Delphine’s report there was next to no interest shown by the police. Of course, someone was assigned to follow up, check the usual avenues pertaining to illegal dog trade etc and see whether something came up, but for all intents and purposes it was of incredibly low priority. By the time a week had passed and the cases had gone from two or three a day, to eight or nine a day, there was city wide attention growing in the situation.

A week later it was nationally recognised, and by now, around a month and a half on, it was topping the headlines across the country and making news in other European outlets. Delphine had said that something felt unusual, and so it had turned out to be. The numbers themselves were completely out of whack with anything normal, but the fact that these dogs were disappearing at such a rate and not reappearing was causing the police major headaches. Whenever a dog went missing it would usually be picked up changing hands in some shady circumstances, or else found by the local animal authorities or at a shelter, but these dogs were nowhere to be found.

Every single one that had gone missing was unaccounted for, and that was downright bizarre. To add to this, not one of the dog owners had seen someone take their pet. They disappeared in myriad ways: some of them out on a walk, some whilst in the garden, some being left in the car whilst their owner popped into the grocery store, but in not one case had anyone seen a person make off with their dog. The police were without a sniff of a clue, until today.

 

This morning; the morning of Thursday, December 12th, Delphine came back to the police precinct in which she’d filed her report. This time she was unannounced, but Henrik was working any and all hours that he was awake these days, and after a small amount of sleep in the early morning had just returned to work. He recognised her the minute that she walked through the door and approached the reception slightly more hurriedly than usual, intercepting her at the front desk just as she was about to speak to the officer manning it.

“Delphine. It’s Henrik, I’m not sure if you remember me.”

“I certainly do, Lieutenant. I have something to show you.” she said, patting the small bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Of course. Come with me.” he said, motioning them in the same direction as they’d gone 47 days prior. Henrik had been awake through most of the night, a fact that he hadn’t registered physically until just now as a deep and heavy lethargy set into him, passing over his eyes and trickling all the way down to his laden feet.

“I’m going to grab some coffee. Would you like anything? It would be no bother at all.”

“Oh, a coffee would be nice, thank you.”

“It’s nothing special, but it does the trick on these long days.” Henrik said with a smile, leading them to the kitchen.

They passed through a few nondescript hallways and arrived at the dining room which was also a pretty drab affair. Off to one side a large island served as the focal point of the kitchen and the rest of the room was a collection of identical round tables with three or four chairs around each. The entire space was monochrome, save a few posters containing a little colour. Everything looked new, but imbued with some kind of dullness that gave it a different kind of age; a weariness. Delphine took the room in and followed Henrik to the workbench that had the appliances, including a filter coffee machine.

“Ok, now comes the important part. You’ve got to choose your favourite mug.”

Henrik pointed to a deep drawer that had a generic label maker sticker on it. The black letters were all in lowercase, which Delphine found interesting, and they spelled the word ‘tasse’.

“One of the officers was learning French a while back and stuck these labels everywhere to try and help.”

Below this drawer was one labelled ‘plaque’ (plate) and below that ‘bol’ (bowl) and so on. Delphine said the words in a whisper to herself, reflecting that many people presumed she spoke the language on account of her name. In fact she barely spoke a word of French. She opened the top drawer and chuckled as she looked down into it. There were dozens of mugs staring back at her and they were all identical; a dark shade of navy blue with a pair of white stripes wrapped around it. Delphine picked one up from the middle and saw that there was a small Hungarian flag set into the stripes.

“Looks like I’ve found the one!”

“Ah, a fine choice!”

Henrik poured them both coffee from the pot into their generic mugs and looked over to the large window on the opposite side of the room, easily its best feature.

“How would you like to sit in here instead? There’s more light and a bit of a view, rather than those stuffy interview rooms.”

“Sure thing.”

Henrik led them over to the table that sat against the window and fell into his seat heavily, again feeling the strain that his many years mixed with minimal sleep was taking on his body.

“I’d like to know how you’ve been since we spoke last, but you might want to just show me what it is you’ve brought in. I have all the time in the world, but it’s up to you, Delphine.”

Delphine had been up and down, or more correctly, way down and on her way back up. It had been close to seven weeks since Ariane had been removed from her life and she had experienced varying stages since then. For the first few days she had gone about her life in a routine way, that is until she returned home after work to an empty apartment, saw Ariane’s bed, food bowl, and other effects and realised that things weren’t routine at all; that the living creature she most closely shared her life with was gone.

On a morning it wasn’t so bad, as Ariane was not a morning dog and tended to stay on her bed asleep, or half asleep, whilst Delphine showered and got dressed - usually hurriedly - before leaving for work. In this part of the day they were living separately.

The evening was when they spent their time together and that had been taken away. Delphine had actually gone to the park each evening for the first four days and walked it back and forth, side to side, all the while without any real hope of finding Ariane, but doing it just the same. Once she had let go of this idea, this ritual, she then drifted into a period of pervading gloom. She sat at home on her own, listlessly, doing very little, sleeping at irregular hours around her work. All thoughts were consumed with the loneliness that she felt and these interminable bouts were punctuated with sharp reminders that she had no idea where or how Ariane was.

She could be lost, injured or worse and this made Delphine confused, ladling feelings of helplessness on top of her solitude. She wasn’t much of a social being, but any outside contact with friends dried up totally during the weeks she was buried in this phase. Over the last couple of weeks things had slowly gotten better, but in a way that was hard to describe. The feelings of loss were the same, the loneliness and despondency didn’t change from their earlier forms, but there was an understanding that nothing could be done, and this brought some relief.

When Delphine felt the sharpest pains of abandonment and isolation a touch of this comfort came over her if only she grasped for it, as if what had happened might be for a reason, and even the idea of a reason was enough to cling to. This sense of hidden purpose was a soothing voice for her.

Yesterday, on returning from work, Delphine had flicked open her mailbox. There was no lock on it, and everyday she acknowledged this detail without it making a distinct impression, it was just a fact that anyone could access her mail, if they wished to. The box was never opened with anticipation, just a perfunctory action taking place, but today it held a surprise; there was a white envelope with her name and address handwritten on the front. Delphine never received letters like this, rather the usual bills, junk mail, the odd appointment confirmation, things of that sort. She pulled out the letter and looked at the handwriting, studying as if she might be able to figure out whose hand had created it but knowing full well that wouldn’t be the case. Once inside her flat she opened the envelope and saw the top of a glossy photograph poking out. Of course, she knew that this had to be linked with Ariane going missing. She’d known it the second she’d seen the ink on the envelope, but now she was being faced with something tangible. An image.

She held her breath and pulled the photo out quickly, thinking it would somehow help with the pain of seeing something unspeakable. But it wasn’t. It had a strange composition, dream-like in a way, but it was undoubtedly a real image that had been taken of a real scene. The background of the shot showed a lavish party taking place, glamorous looking people milling around in front of what seemed to be a grand, villa style mansion. They all looked natural, so Delphine felt confident that it wasn’t staged. People were drinking, some of them dancing, and from the expressions it was clear that they were having a good time; a party or celebration of some sort. One half of the foreground was taken up by a swimming pool giving off the lustrous glow that comes when water is lit from below, illuminating the darkness of night. In a crescent around the edge of the swimming pool were three wooden sun loungers topped with cream cushions running the length of them, two of which were angled towards the house, the third facing the camera. Both of those looking the other way had people on them, their shoulders and backs of their heads visible over the frame of the lounger, and on the third sat Ariane. She was not looking directly at the camera, but in the general direction; just past it, maybe at someone or something in particular. Her mouth was slightly agape with the very tip of her tongue poking over the front teeth - an expression that Delphine knew well. At first glance of the photo, with Ariane sitting there, Delphine’s heart had started to pound. As would be natural, the first thought was that of foreboding - my dog has gone missing and now someone has sent me a picture of her, this must be bad news - but the more she studied the photograph, each element of it, the setting, the people, the environment and then again and again Ariane, she began to calm, and by the fifth or sixth time going over it she felt only curious about this oddity in her hand.

Delphine opened her bag and handed the photograph over to Henrik without a word. She took a sip of her coffee and watched his eyes scan over it, his face offering no reaction. For what seemed a long time she continued to take sips and was surprised by how good it tasted. Henrik sat there with his neck craned slightly, looking down at the strange artefact. His eyes flitted to and fro, but still his expression never changed. Finally he put the photo down on the table between them and looked up at Delphine.

“This is very, very strange.” and he took a sip of his coffee.

“Receiving something like this is incredibly uncommon, and honestly, at first glance, doesn’t give any indication as to what is going on. Of course it has been taken somewhere, and with the little it shows we can start looking into where that might be. How do you feel about it? and feel free not to answer if it could be distressing to do so.”

Delphine listened to Henrik speak and matched the words alongside his placid expression, his calm demeanour.

“Firstly, the coffee is really great. I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget to tell you. This picture has actually brought me some solace. I don’t understand the meaning of it, and I can’t imagine why someone would have taken her if their intention were just to send me an odd photo, but seeing her like that, unharmed, looking healthy even, it tells me that there is something happening I’m not supposed to understand yet, or maybe ever. The look on Ariane’s face? I’ve only ever seen her look at me that way, never anyone else, and here she is pulling that same face. She’s fine, no, she’s better than fine, and so I think that I should decide to be fine as well. I do want her to come back to me, but I only want that if I know that she’s coming back to be happier than where she is now…” Henrik listened, nodding here and there “.. of course, there’s no way I can really find that out unless I see her… anyway, I feel sad and happy. Still baffled by the meaning of it all, but at ease.” Delphine actually laughed at the end of the sentence “I’m sure that sounds like gibberish, but there you are.”

Henrik took a moment to let her words sink in, looking at Delphine and then at the photo. His phone started vibrating in his pocket just as he was going to respond. The timing was not good - he never liked to answer his phone when he had company - especially in the current setting, but he knew that he should answer it, just in case it was important.

“Sorry Delphine, I’ll have to get this. I’ll be just a moment.”

Henrik stood up and took a few steps away from the table speaking calmly and methodically, as he always seemed to. Delphine spun the photo around so that it was facing her and leant down to look at it again for the umpteenth time, and as she did she noticed something that she hadn’t seen before, leaning closer still to be sure of what it was.

Henrik slid his chair out and sat back down opposite Delphine, prompting her to look up. His face was unsettled, which wasn’t something that she’d seen before, and just before she was going to speak, to tell him of her discovery, he started to talk in an uncharacteristically shaky tone.

“That was my wife on the phone. She just went to pick up Lilith from the groomers and she’s disappeared.”

 

It is December 14th now. In the past 72 hours or so - presuming that Delphine’s photo arrived early, on the day of December 11th - there have been dozens of dog owners coming into the police station to present photos that they have received in the post. The photographs have all been taken in different locations but each of them exhibits a similarly joyous scene set behind the respective owner's dog, and as far as dogs can look similar, they have the same kind of middling look on their face. Many of the owners are completely distraught.

They speak to Henrik, and others, in various states of anguish, some in floods of tears, some grovelling for their beloved dog to be found, some even becoming aggressive in their protestations that the police are useless, neglectful of their case and indifferent to their personal agony. A smaller portion of those that come in are perplexed by this development; they struggle to understand what could possibly be taking place, and when Henrik and his colleagues can offer no explanation they end up leaving the station bemused, a disorientated air about them.

During this whole period, some interesting - in most instances concerning - trends had formed throughout the city. Once the missing dogs had become a well established phenomena, a not insignificant amount of Budapest dog owners took certain measures. Sales of home security systems skyrocketed for one, and on any given day you could see several installation vans lining suburban streets, bringing the latest technology to the homes of these fearful individuals. A more disturbing statistic was the sharp spike in firearm license applications. Fortunately this wasn’t a simple process, and as such the city didn’t instantly fill with anxious gun toting dog lovers, but those that were worried enough were arming themselves in whichever way possible, purchasing rubber bullet guns and the types of blades and blunt instruments not often highly sought after.

Unfortunately the tension did cause some nasty incidents to occur and several people ended up hospitalised due to unprovoked assaults from jumpy dog owners, two actually losing their lives. The increase in violence across the city did nothing to quell the rise in numbers of dogs going missing. One thing for sure was that none of the other dog owners seemed to exhibit the tranquility of Delphine. She was apart in her outlook on this now widely shared situation, and by this point her life had regained much of the meaning and happiness that it held before Ariane’s disappearance. Despite missing her, and of course wishing that they could one day be reunited, she had found a substitute for her dog's presence in the conviction that she was being cared for and ultimately living happily.

 

Unfortunately the same can not be said for Henrik. His dog Lilith is a twelve year old Border Collie which he had fostered since she was just two months old. Whilst he has worked long hours for her entire life he was still undoubtedly her person. His wife would feed her, let her out when needed and complete any everyday tasks that were required, but Henrik was her person. He would walk her each morning as soon as he woke up, taking her on long routes around the city. He would bathe her, brush her, talk to her, train her and have her on his lap on those evenings he was at home. Henrik was not an angry man, and other than a few instances in his much younger days had never felt any particular animosity for anyone or anything, but in the days since that phone call from his wife he had been unable to quell a feeling of rage that had infused him. If he was suitably distracted then his normal composure and mild disposition would return, but given a second to think, any slight opportunity to reflect on her disappearance he would feel the burning ignite again, his teeth clenching and his hands becoming tight fists at the ends of his arms.

One problematic aspect, possibly the most taxing, was that he didn’t know where to place the anger. He felt a disembodied fury which he couldn’t project at a particular person, also there was no wider group to act as a focal point. He did however feel a deep resentment for his wife. She had been the one that took Lilith to the groomer. He had told her to stay in the room with Lilith and the groomer the entire time, but she had left to complete another errand. When she’d called him with the news he didn’t even ask why she had ignored his instruction, because he knew that hearing any explanation or excuse would have just made it worse for him. The other part of it was that she had never shown Lilith the same love that he had, or at least not the same type of love, in his eyes. It was a paradoxical conflict for him, because he wanted Lilith to be his dog, truly. He wanted her to love him more than anyone else, especially his wife, and whilst he would vie for her affection, and duly receive it in abundance, he still couldn’t help but begrudge his wife for not trying as hard, not seeming to care as much. He couldn’t displace these feelings, and what’s more, he didn’t want to get rid of them, even though he knew how poisonous and illogical they were. They felt vital to him. A necessary force that he may need to harness at some point.

 

On December 18th, six days removed from her last visit, Delphine again showed up at the station, and again Henrik was there, this time stewing in the dining room in which they’d last sat together. A junior officer led her through and she had sat down opposite him before he’d even realised she was there.

“Hello Lieutenant.” Delphine said pleasantly, an unintentionally cheerful inflection to her voice.

Henrik attempted a smile, but there was no fooling her or anyone else, he was as stiff as a board.

“I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to let you know that you can stop looking for Ariane.”

Henrik couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His eyes lit up and genuine glee burst from his mouth.

“Oh my god, they’ve returned her? That’s incredible. I didn’t think they would just start turning up again so easily, but this is wonderful news. I’ll have to start contacting the other owners to see whether their dogs have also appeared.” with that he sprung from his seat and tapped his pockets as if trying to quickly decide what to do next.

“Lieutenant.” Delphine said calmly. “Maybe you should sit back down.”

“But why? We need to get this news out as soon as possible, well, as soon as we’ve confirmed that the dogs have started being returned. Imagine the news stories! and Lilith..” the name came wistfully from his lips.

“No, you’ve misunderstood Lieutenant. Ariane hasn’t come back, I just want you to stop looking for her.”

Delphine pulled another photograph from her bag and handed it to the unbalanced figure of Henrik.

He looked at the photo at first without seeing it, attempting to compute Delphine’s words. After taking a moment to try and compose himself he pulled it closer to his face, squinting to take it all in. The composition was similar to the hundreds of others that he’d now seen. This one showed a sports field with players clad in short sleeve shirts and shorts. Football, he quickly realised. In the background was the supporters stand, hundreds of spectators with their arms aloft, cheering, revelling at what they were watching. The rest of the frame was made up of the players exhibiting similar ecstasy; a group of five or six were huddled together, their arms enmeshed, grabbing their teammates' shirts intensely. The rest of the players were scattered, some on their own looking skyward in rapture, others in twos or threes, holding each other's shoulders or jumping into each other's arms, all of them in a state of euphoria. The picture looked like scenes from a World Cup victory, the players crying tears of unbridled joy. In the midst of the revelry, just set forward from the rejoicing players was Ariane. She had been captured in profile, jumping some three feet off of the floor with her mouth wide open, tongue lolling from the side of an unmistakable smile. For a second her face looked like a completely human expression, a smile the same as the hundreds around her, but he then realised that this was of course just a happy dog. A dog that could feel the energy and was channeling the same excitement, full of the elation she was being fed. Delphine watched as Henrik pulled the photo away from his face and it dropped from his hand to the floor, his eyes glazed.

 

A week on from Delphine’s visit it was Christmas Day, December 25th. Henrik and his wife didn’t have any family in the city and the few friends they did keep up with had decided to get away over this period, going for a few days to other European cities or travelling domestically to stay with family. Henrik’s wife had wanted to do something similar. She pitched a few ideas to Henrik, knowing how distraught he was with the loss of Lilith, and tried to convince him that it would be good for them to get away for a while; have a change of environment that might ease his worries if only for a while. Henrik refused point blank at each and every suggestion, even though he knew that they were good, and knew that she needed it just as much as him.

His pig-headedness had shocked her, for he had always been considerate, and even if they did end up disagreeing on a matter they would do so in a respectful way, discussing an issue until they both understood each other. As she tried to access this rational part of him the only response she would get was some version of ‘what if they send a photo while we’re away’ she would explain that it would only be for a few days, and even if he stayed to receive it right away, what difference would it make? Her empathy ran its course after he had shut down every option, and she had decided that she would go to stay with her mother anyway, with or without him.

On Christmas Eve, Henrik came home from his shift just before 11pm. The house was tidy and his wife was gone. Their modest apartment still had all of Lilith’s effects laid out, as if she were the one just out of town for a day or two. He came into the noiseless space and sat on the sofa alone, his hands firmly clenched. Henrik had no distractions at all, no Lilith, no partner, no work to take his mind elsewhere, so he started to think about Delphine, the way that she had given up on Ariane, how she had been able to smile and even laugh. He didn’t understand. How could someone act that way when something they were supposed to love had been taken away from them; stolen from them no less. His hands ached from the pressure and he unclasped them, holding them up in front of his face.

“Where is my photograph?” he said to himself. There were deep gouges in his palms where his long fingernails had dug into them. “Where is my photograph?” he said again, reaching for the small side table and picking up a mug that he had left there days ago, a small amount of dark liquid swilling around the bottom of it. He thought about the stickers on the drawers at work “tasse.” he said to himself as he threw the mug at the wall in front of him, the ceramic making a sharp crack and breaking into a few pieces, old coffee dripping down the white paint. “Lampe.” he said, and wrapped his hand around the base of the lamp and threw it in the same direction. It was plugged in, consequently whipping towards the ground when it ran out of cord, bouncing off the hard laminate floor. “Bougie.” he said, gripping the candle like an American Football and throwing it with venom against the wall, the glass of the candleholder thudding into the plaster and dropping to the ground. Henrik looked for something else within reach but nothing was close enough.

He turned to the shelving behind him and saw the ornament right above his head. His wife had commissioned a fine glass figure of Lilith to be made in honour of their dog's 10th birthday. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and had sat in the centre of the arrangement ever since, often making Henrik smile when he would look up at it and then down at Lilith herself, or vice versa. Henrik turned around on the sofa, and propped on his knees managed to grab it down, bringing it close so that he could look at the detail on it. “Chien.” The likeness was remarkable, and whilst he’d forgotten the name of the artist he had always held them in much esteem. He loved this figure. “Where the fuck is MY photo!” he screamed as he turned and threw the glass Lilith against the wall.

 

Another week on and it was a new year, January 1st. For a while now the number of vanishing dogs had been dwindling, until yesterday, on the 31st, there was but one report made. Henrik had taken the report and all but knew that it was the last of it - no more dogs were going to go missing. In the intervening days he had a dozen or so owners come back with second photographs that they’d received, a week from the first, just like Delphine. Four others presented a third photo, but the vast majority got in touch to let him know that they’d received nothing further. Most were one and done. The news outlets were well aware of the different circumstances that people were experiencing and speculated as to the inconsistencies among them, making tenuous links to different categories, breeds, or characteristics of the dogs that could be the defining factor in whether an owner received a photo or not.

Those that did receive a second photo tended to become even more confused, and those that hadn’t received a first were even more embittered. Meanwhile, Delphine had received a third and just this morning a fourth. In every image Ariane was increasingly radiant, each time more animate. It hardly seemed possible, but it was true. For Delphine these pictures offered a continued source of inspiration, and as her improved mood buoyed her through the week it was again boosted seven days later when another arrived; a perpetual cycle had begun.

She had planned some changes to her own situation, deciding that she would cut back her working hours to afford her more time to tend to her personal life, and with this extra freedom take up something truly meaningful. What that was she didn’t know, but she was convinced it was waiting for her. Delphine contemplated getting another dog, but now wasn’t the time. The photographs of Ariane would amply fill her up, and sure enough, on close inspection, she could just make out the letters on her collar tag DL; Delphine’s initials. Letters that hadn’t been there before. 

 

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