John Dawlish (![]() ![]() @ 2010-07-24 11:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, [1980-07] july, bertha jorkins, john dawlish |
LOG: John and Bertha
Who: John Dawlish and Bertha Jorkins
What: Rat shopping of course!
Where: The Magical Menagerie, Diagon Alley
When: Saturday July 23 1980
Status: Logged/Complete
Rating: PG!
It was awful to hope that he’d be caught up in something - anything - for work, but John awoke on Saturday morning to find himself utterly free until that afternoon. He wasn’t even hungover from the outing to the Leaky the night before. After pouring Doris (he couldn’t call her Miss Crockford anymore after he’d watched Benjy out drink her - they were now on a first name basis, he believed) into bed in the wee hours of the morning, he’d stumbled home and fallen asleep until his alarm went off at an ungodly hour. He debated briefly pulling a sickie for his outing with Bertha because he really didn’t want a rat, but he had a feeling that had he done that, she’d be happy to find another time for them to go. At least he hadn’t had too much to drink the previous night. He seldom did anymore. Too many things could go wrong if he wasn’t at his best. He was coming up with a plethora of reasons why he couldn’t buy a rat today as he approached Magical Menagerie. He kept an eye on his surroundings as he approached, though nothing appeared out of place, nor did he see anyone who looked overly suspicious. That was something, at least. Raising a hand in greeting when he saw Bertha, he had to smile. She never failed to look cheerful. “Hi,” he said, nodding his head. “Did you bring the other one so he could pick out his own friend?” Bertha had been browsing the rat treats while she waited, and when she saw John come in she waved and smiled at him, happy he’d come because buying a pet was more enjoyable when someone else was there. “I did!” she said, putting her hand in her pocket and pulling out a medium sized black and white rat with inquisitive eyes and twitchy whiskers. “I couldn’t get him a brother without him having a say, could I? It wouldn't be very nice.” She placed the rat on her shoulder where he nimbly hung on as she leaned in and gave John a hug in greeting. Of all her exes he was one of the nicest, she’d always thought. “Are you ready to pick one out?” John returned her hug, though he kept a wary eye on the rodent who now perched on her shoulder. Wasn’t she worried that it’d relieve itself on her? Or could rats be trained? He had no idea and thought then that more- or any - research into rats would have been advisable. “Well, I’m glad he’s here to supervise,” he said, taking a look around the shop. He hadn’t been in here since Hogwarts. There were any number of cages against the walls, as well as displays of treats of all kinds, food, bedding and, Merlin help him, toys. Did rats need toys? “I’m ready to look. Not sure if I’m ready to purchase,” he admitted, eyes catching on a tankful of orange snails. The sign labeled them as ‘poisonous’ with a XXX rating, which gave him pause. Why would someone want to buy a poisonous snail as a pet? People were mad. “Have you introduced yon rat there to any of the fine fellows waiting for a home yet?” “Not yet,” Bertha said. “I was waiting for you!” She took a step back towards where the rats were, completely oblivious to a group of cats wandering around the shop and eying the rodent on her shoulder. “Just look at them,” she said, leaning on the divider and looking into the enclosure, “aren’t they precious?” The rats stopped skipping rope with their tails and playing hopscotch and came inquisitively over to see the visitors. On her shoulder, Piper made a startled squeak and tried to get a closer look before burrowing in her hair. “I think you should get the one with the brown spot on his head. It looks like the hair piece on that wizard who works in the cafeteria.” “Oh, well, good. Let’s have a looksie then, shall we?” he said, spotting the rat cages immediately. He’d never realized that rats were so coordinated. There were first year Auror trainees who could do with taking pointers. Perhaps he’d suggest a field trip to Savage. The whimsy made him grin. John stepped over a cat and kept an eye on one who seemed to be stalking Bertha (well, really, the rat). The black and white cat eyed him back, unperturbed by the attention before slipping behind a display. His eyes slid to the cage, where the rats stopped their playing (why did they need toys if they could entertain themselves?), peering down at the creatures. “Oh, yes, he does, doesn’t he?” He chuckled at that. “The one who serves the curries.” Pointing at another, he nodded. “That one looks like a fine ... young rat. Might be a good match for yours,” he said, amused by the way the rat’s coloring seemed to make an image of a hawk. How ironic. Bertha looked in, not so certain, her nose wrinkling as she eyed the rats, her attention suddenly taken by a somewhat quiet one who was industrially building something with bits of cardboard in a corner. “What about that one?” He was a nice solid brindle, quite handsome and larger than some of the rest, but with a sleek nose and ears and there was something about him she instantly liked. On her shoulder, Piper looked out, and she looked for the saleswitch and waved at her. “Could I see the brindly one please? The one in the corner?” “Oh you don’t want that one,” the witch said primly. “Two people brought him back already. Said he likes to try to escape. What about the nice piebald one or the little black one?” John frowned. That was no way to run a business, though he supposed honesty was better than outright lying. Still, he thought as the rat glanced over its shoulder at them and almost seemed to deflate at the woman’s words (perhaps they did understand English), it was a bit bored in the cage. “She’s quite good at getting rats to do as they should,” he told the woman. “The brindle one, please.” He looked over at Bertha. “He seems like the intrepid explorer - quite like yours, I think. Though you’d have to buy a bigger teakettle, you realize. I don’t think they could both fit.” The black and white cat slunk out from behind a crate and took two running steps, readying itself to leap in the air to snatch the rat off Bertha’s shoulder. He stepped swiftly (or as swiftly as he could in the narrow aisles) and scooped up the surprised creature. It looked at him with baleful eyes as it was deprived of its prey. Bertha had hesitated at the witch’s words, but something about John’s statement made her brighten, and she gave him an affectionate smile as she nodded and watched the witch scoop up the rat so she could see it. “I could get one of those family sized ones,” she said excitedly. “Or perhaps a nice tin for them if they prefer.” She looked at him, surprised as he caught a cat in mid air, having been completely oblivious to its behaviour. “I’ll take the brindle,” she said. “And it looks like you have a friend?” She reached out and chucked the cat under the chin then drew back sharply as it hissed at her and Piper hid even further in her hair. “Oh dear.” The smile she gave him told him that speaking up had been the right choice - it usually was, he found. “A tin might be smarter - less chance of boiling that way,” he pointed out mildly. He looked down at the cat when she commented about a friend. Considering the damn thing was sinking its claws into his arm, he wasn’t so sure of the designation. Bending, he moved to let the animal go, wincing as it took the opportunity to launch itself from his arms. That smarted. “I think I want something a little more ... tame.” “Oh yes, that one - quite the troublemaker,” the saleswitch said, shaking her head. “Are you looking at a cat then? We’ve got some lovely kittens just in.” Bertha took the brindle rat and held him on her hand so she could examine him closely. He looked right back at her as if trying to figure her out, then started sniffing in the direction of Piper as Piper poked his nose out of her hair. “But that one has personality,” she said. “You don’t want a boring pet, do you, John?” This was so sweet and domestic. It was really too bad the two of them hadn’t worked out. He watched Bertha making friends with the brindle rat, amused by the way the rat on her shoulder (what was its name again? It had something to do with music, didn’t it? Drummer? Fifer?) reacted to the new one. If he wasn’t mistaken, they’d get along like two peas in a pod. Or, really, two rats in a kettle. “Oh my, yes, that girl has personality in spades,” the saleswitch said. He looked at the black and white cat who was now licking herself, one leg hoisted up in the air. “How charming,” he said dryly. Only a flicker of an ear belied that the cat even knew he was there. “I’d rather not wake up with my flat in tatters from an irate animal.” The cat in question shifted, switching legs. Still, Bertha was right - he didn’t want a boring pet. Old blokes had boring pets. He glanced at the snails but decided that having a pet who could dissolve your limbs wasn’t much of a pet at all. Bertha smiled as the two rats went nose to nose and sniffed each other curiously. The brindle one stood on its hind legs and looked at her inquisitively then began to groom itself. Pleased she smiled at the witch. “I’ll take him. And some more rat food please, I’m nearly out.” She looked over at John and raised her eyebrows. “So. You know I said rat, right, not cat?” John looked from the cat to Bertha, shrugging. “I know, but I don’t know if I’ve the right personality to fully appreciate a rat,” he admitted. He wasn’t entirely certain he was a cat person, either, to be honest, but then the cat glanced over at him and then, as if she hadn’t scratched the hell out of him, sauntered over and wound her way around his ankles. Reaching down, he ignored the hiss as he picked her up. “If we’re going to get along, we’re going to have some ground rules. No scratching me or the furniture and no biting. Good behavior gets a tin of tuna a week. Bad behavior gets you dry kibble for a month.” Her tail flicked, which he took to mean agreement. At least she wasn’t hissing anymore. Bertha beamed. “I have a feeling you are going to be very happy together.” The cat looked up at him, green eyes narrow, though at least she didn’t struggle and try to get away. John gave Bertha a smile. “I certainly hope so.” He looked around. “Fancy helping me pick out all the bits and bobs Boudica here needs?” “I can think of nothing I’d like more.” She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze then jerked back with a squeak as the cat hissed at her again. Yes she was very happy with her rats. |