Lee Kemp

On my way home last night on the train last night a guy walked past me with a dog. He looked slightly outdoorsy and relatively normal. His dog looked well bred and apart from the thick, fetishistic, studded leather collar there was nothing untoward about either of them. Though I couldn’t recognise the breed it was about the same size as a big bulldog though more naturally dog shaped.

You can’t possibly think a bulldog is dog shaped?!

He then went into the toilet with his dog. It did occur to me to offer to hold the dog while he went but indecision on my part about the social acceptability of doing so meant he was secured in the loo, with pooch, before I could decide. It wasn’t that unusual. I would probably do the same thing. The thought of leaving Alfie to run loose on the train while I point Percy at the porcelain sends shivers.

Then he didn’t come out.

He was still in there when I got off the train forty minutes later. There was no noise, no whining, in fact no sound at all. There was only that little red marker that indicates ‘occupied’.

I approached the guard on the platform and had this conversation;

Lee: “short explanation of weird events, vague concern about total silence”
Guard: “it’s probably the dog washer.”

Long pause.

Lee: “I’m sorry?”
Guard: “The dog washer. There’s some guy who gets on the train, locks himself in the toilet and washes his dog. Leaves the place in a right state every time.”
Lee: Blinks.
Guard: “Thanks. I’ll go and check”.

It was a quiet drive home after that.