A cow, a man, a dog.
Merran loved her little Shih Tzu. Throughout her life she had always had a little dog, but Lan Dong was her favourite canine of all time. Merran always stood in her kitchen to have her breakfast. It was usually just a slice of toast with butter and honey, always made meticulously after she had taken her heart pills and downed a large glass of water. If she dropped some toast crumbs on the kitchen floor, Lan Dong would instantly snaffle them up.
“You’re a regular little vacuum cleaner,” Merran would say. “Who needs a broom when Lan Dong is about?”
Anyway, on this particular day, as she was taking her medication, Merran accidently dropped her open bottle of heart pills.
The front of Melanie’s house was next to the road, but the back lawn had a different neighbour bordering each of the three sides.
Melanie had a little dog, of which she was most fond. It was a Pomeranian and its name was Pom-Pom. In fact, Melanie got on better with her dog than she did with the three bordering neighbours.
You’ve no idea, said Melanie, what Anita Jones is up to. Her husband’s corpse was still warm and she was out cavorting with another man. And then barely three weeks had passed and he’d moved in. Moved in! Anita Jones, I’m telling you this to your face. You’re a cheap harlot. That’s all. Cheap harlot! My Pom-Pom has more principles.
Herbie Davidson, said Melanie, is overweight and disgusting. He walks around in his back yard wearing only his underpants. He’s too fat to do that. He’s gross from top to toe. Nor has he any manners. Herbie Davidson, I’m telling you this to your face. You’re a grotesque, obese piece of lard. That’s all. Lazy lard! My Pom-Pom has more principles.
And as for you, Andy McAlister, we all know you watch porn. You sit at your computer half the night grovelling over it. I can see it through the window. I’ve a good mind to report you to the police, you filthy-minded pig. Andy McAlister, I’m telling you this to your face. You’re a dirty gutter rat. That’s it. Gutter rat! My Pom-Pom has more principles.
One day Melanie saw rat poison tablets scattered on her back lawn. Pom-Pom must have eaten one. It was dead.
The number 111 is significant in New Zealand, it being the equivalent of the American 911 and the British 999 and the Australian 000. So I thought to celebrate this significant number, a little panic in the music; a little rush; a little dash of a dog here, there and everywhere…