The old man was having breakfast one morning, half-listening to the radio, when his dog came into the kitchen and told him he was crazy.

‘You’re crazy,’ it said.

Man and dog stared at each other. Neither of them moved for the time it took for the weather forecast and the first part of a song. The man gave his head a little shake, and got up to turn off the radio, and the house was suddenly very quiet. He stared at the dog. The dog stared back, saying nothing. The man shook his head again for good measure, sat down, and went back to his toast.

‘You,’ said the dog, enunciating carefully, ’are crazy.’

The man knocked his chair backwards and stood with his back pressed up against the cupboard where he kept his saucepans and the sandwich toaster.

The doctor couldn’t see him for two days, unless it was urgent. The man thought it probably was, but didn’t know how to explain the situation over the phone.

‘Thursday at ten-fifteen?’ asked the receptionist.

‘Good,’ said the man, although he didn’t feel good at all. He walked out to the lounge, where the dog was reading yesterday’s newspaper.

‘When are you seeing the doctor?’ it asked.

The hairs stood up on the man’s neck.

‘Good dog,’ he said with an effort.

He took the paper and walked to the toilet, closed and locked the door, and sat down on the lid with the newspaper scrunched in his lap.

A minute or so later, the dog’s toenails came clipping up to the door.

‘Can I have that when you’re finished?’ it called.

Their afternoon walk was a solemn affair. When they got to the park, the man removed the leash. Instead of tearing away, the dog stood sadly.

‘You going for a run?’ asked the man, using his dog voice.

The dog winced.

‘Can we not have a normal conversation?’ it asked. ‘Or can you at least treat me with a little bit of respect? You know? Until you get some treatment?’ It walked off a few yards, and threw itself down in the grass with an extravagant sigh.

The man took a deep breath. He walked over to the dog, and lay down next to it. The dog looked at him sideways. ‘I mean,’ said the dog, ‘just because you’re crazy, doesn’t mean we can’t have a conversation.’

The man nodded, just slightly. ‘Can we talk about this at home?’ he murmured.

The dog smiled, the way dogs smile, and nodded, and took off after some birds.

They had a nice dinner. The man had sausages and vegetables, and the dog had dog food. The man hesitated with the open tin.

‘Is this alright?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ said the dog. ‘I like it, it’s fine.’

‘In the bowl?’

‘Yeah,’ laughed the dog.

After dinner they watched television together.

‘I don’t like this show,’ said the dog.

‘I quite like it,’ said the man.

‘I don’t get the idea of it.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ’the host asks the questions, and the contestants guess which answer is right. If they get it right, they get to go on to the next question. Every question means they win more money, and so on.’

‘What do they win?’

‘Money.’

‘Munn-ee,’ the dog pronounced. It looked like it was about to ask another question, and then scratched its ear instead. The contestant on television covered her face with her hands.

‘Money,’ said the dog again, thoughtfully.

‘You buy things with it,’ said the man.

‘Buy.’

‘You can get things with it,’ the man tried to explain. ‘Let’s say you want something, like, for me, say…a new shirt. If I need a new shirt, I can go and give some money to someone else who has shirts, and they’ll give me a new shirt.’

The dog’s eyes narrowed a little.

‘It’s how we get things. Like food. And this house. I had to give people money to get this house. A while ago now, that was.’

‘You get our food with money?’ said the dog.

‘Yep.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ insisted man. ‘You watch the next time we go down to the shops. You watch me stop and give the person something before I come out with the food. That’s money, that something is money.’

The dog shook its head, and looked back at the television

‘Where did you learn to talk?’ the man asked.

‘I can’t talk,’ said the dog. ‘You’re crazy, don’t forget.’

The man nodded, remembering. ‘Can you read?’

‘No.’

‘You looked like you were reading the paper yesterday.’

‘I just look at the pictures,’ said the dog.

The next night was Wednesday. They stayed up talking later than they should have.

‘Who is this?’ asked the dog at one point, indicating one of the photos on the buffet.

‘That’s my wife,’ said the man. ‘Enid. You don’t remember her?’

The dog frowned.

‘She was still here for a little while when we first got you.’

‘Sometimes I think I remember her,’ said the dog, ‘but not really. Sometimes I think I do but then I think I’ve just seen this photo too many times.’

‘What about the one in my bedroom?’ said the man.

‘I’m not allowed in the bedroom,’ said the dog.

The man went and got Enid’s photo from the bedroom and put it on the buffet.

‘Yeah,’ said the dog, looking at it carefully, ‘not really.’

‘Who’s this?’ said the dog, turning to another photo. A boy holding a puppy.

‘That’s Gareth,’ said the man. ‘My son. You know Gareth, he was here the Christmas before last for lunch. With his wife Denise.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said the dog, with a gasp of recognition. ‘He looks different.’

‘Well, he’s only a boy in that photo.’

‘Who’s the dog?’ asked the dog.

‘That’s old Casper,’ said the man. He rubbed his elbows thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure you and Casper would have got on.’

‘Really?’ said the dog.

‘No.’

‘Where does he live now?’

‘Coffs Harbour.’

‘With Gareth?’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘I mean, Gareth lives in Coffs Harbour.’

‘Where does Casper live now?’

The man blinked, and adjusted his glasses. ‘Well,’ he said gently, ‘that photo was taken over thirty years ago.’

The dog looked at him. ‘In Coffs Harbour?’ it asked.

The man smiled and snuffed a small laugh through his nose.

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘it was.’

The next morning the dog saw the man out to the car.

‘Any last words?’ the man joked.

‘Could you change my water every morning?’ the dog said, seriously.

‘Yes, of course,’ said the man, looking back at the house. ‘Shall I change it now?’

‘No, it’s OK,’ said the dog.

‘Later then.’

The man opened the car door.

‘I love you,’ said the dog. ‘I have everything I want here.’

The man looked down at his dog looking up at him, wagging its tail. His eyes filled with tears, and he crouched down and took the dog’s head in his hands. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

From the doctor’s surgery the man went straight to the chemist. Then he bought a sausage roll and some bottled water, and took the pills sitting in his car. He drove out to the bay and walked along the esplanade for an hour or so, and then went home.

The dog was waiting at the gate, ecstatic.

‘Hello,’ said the man. The dog wagged its tail ferociously. It hovered in a frenzy of expectation while the man drove into the garage, and came back to shut the gate.

‘Good dog,’ he said as the dog jumped and pawed at him. ‘Not talking?’

The dog abandoned restraint and sprinted to the house. It waited at the front door for a moment looking back at the man, and then, unable to contain itself, raced back again. They walked together to the front door. The dog leapt inside as soon as it was open, and made a cheerful tour of the permitted areas. The man heaped his wallet and keys and pills and half-empty water bottle on the kitchen table. The dog came in panting happily.

‘Not talking,’ the man confirmed.

A couple of afternoons later, on the way home from the park, the man stopped off to buy some milk.

‘Three seventy-five, thanks,’ said the lady at the cash register. The man handed her the money.

‘Look at your dog,’ laughed the lady, ‘staring at us!’

The man turned to see the dog with its head inside the door, watching carefully. A small smile crept across his face.

‘So it is,’ he said.