Bruce

(a story of mystery)
TEXT 1
It's not good a sleeping dog to wake.

No one could possibly call me an imaginative man. In fact, you can hardly find a more
completely ordinary man than I am. I'm twenty-six and unmarried. I got four A-levels at
comprehensive school and I work as a sales representative for a small firm. They give me a
Ford and I cover a round of shops in the south of England. It's honest work, and there're
prospects of a sort. I'm not all that ambitious, anyway.
I lodge with Mrs Forster. She's a decent woman and seems to like me. She sees to my
washing and if I come back late, she usually makes me a cup of tea. My landlady is a kind
soul as long as you're careful not to make a noise or bring mud into the house. And best of
all, she liked Bruce and never minded me keeping him.
Bruce was my dog. He was a black-and-white collie — you've seen hundreds. Only not
like Bruce. He was the best-trained, most obedient, responsive dog you could see. I trained
him myself. By the time he was two, Bruce could come when he was called, sit, lie down and
walk to heel1. He and I seemed to understand each other perfectly. Bruce used to be the big
thing in my life. I never did anything without Bruce. When I travelled on the job in the
Fiesta2, Bruce always came too, every day. He used to sit in the back, on his own rug. He got
to know all the places we went to. Some of the clients liked old Bruce. You could say he was
good for business — broke the ice, you know.
Well, now, it was a December night about fifteen months ago and I was driving home a
bit later than usual. At some point I stopped the car on a minor road and got out to stretch my
legs. I'd left the driver's door open and that's something I'll regret to my dying day. Bruce'd
followed me and was in the middle of the road when I heard a car coming and saw its lights.
I shouted, "Bruce, stop!" And that's where I made my fatal mistake, because he did stop —
he stopped right there in the road. At the same moment a car, a grey Peugeot 3, going much
too fast, came round the corner and knocked Bruce down. There was only one man in it. He
didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

Bruce died in my arms about two minutes later. He was trying to lick my face. I'm not
ashamed to tell you I was crying my eyes out. Wouldn't you? Things just weren't the same
without Bruce. I felt wretchedly lonely. I couldn't bear to walk without him. The long drives
all day were miserable.
One March evening about three months after the death of Bruce, I was driving down the
M'3 when suddenly I heard a noise in the back of the car. It was a frightening noise, and I
couldn't place it at first. Then I realized it was the growling of a dog, a big dog, too. It
sounded really aggressive. I was scared. I stopped the car and looked in the back and then in
the boot. Nothing. It was eerie: I knew I hadn't been mistaken. After a bit I got back in and
drove on. The noise didn't come back and I didn't mention it to Mrs Forster. But three days
later, when T was driving home from Northampton on a nasty bit of road, it suddenly began
again. It sounded like a large savage dog preparing to attack — and nothing to be seen at all.
You could even hear its claws on the seat. I stopped and jumped out. I got back in only after
the growling had stopped.
But it kept on coming back. It went on, about twice a week or more. I wanted to talk to
someone about it, but how could I? My friends would say I was crazy. Mrs Forster wouldn't
be any good. My employers would think that I was mentally ill and probably sack me. I even
tried changing the car, but it didn't help: the growling came again. And it was worse than
ever.
About a week later, I was coming home unusually late. It had been a hard, frustrating day
— a bad day, really. 1 turned into the wooded minor road where Bruce had been killed. I had
to slow down, as there was something wrong with I lie car. It was pouring with rain. I got out
my torch. One of the tyres was flat. Oh damn! I thought. To have to change the wheel at this
time at night, in all I he rain! I'd just started when I heard another car coming. It was a grey
Peugeot. It was the car that had killed Bruce, I felt certain. The driving door opened and a
man got out into the road. I didn't like the look of him at all. He came up to me.
"Want any help?"
"That's very kind of you."
"What'll you give me?"
This surprised me of course, but after a moment I said, "Well, how much do you want?"
"Well," he answered with a horrible grin, "I think I'll take what you've got."
And with this he stepped forward and seized me, pushing his fingers down between my
neck and the front of my shirt. His other fist was clenched.

Just at that moment the driver's door of my car flew open, and then the man stepped back,
clutching at his throat and shouting, "Keep it off! Keep it off!" He ran to his car and just as
he reached it, a police car appeared and drew up. One of the policemen went straight to the
man and tried to speak to him. Then he supported him to the back of the police car and came
over to me.
"Where is your dog, sir, please?"
"I haven't got a dog."
"Well, sir, this man's been very badly bitten. It's a hospital job, this is. Are you saying it
wasn't your dog that did it?"
An ambulance, its lights flashing, arrived and took the mugger away. The policemen gave
me a lift home. I was totally exhausted.
Later I learned that this man was known to the police. The police insisted that the dog
must be destroyed. Mrs Forster confirmed that I'd had no dog since Bruce had been killed.
Since then the noises in the car have stopped altogether. I've got another dog, another
collie called Cracker. He's great. I feel a new man.
(After "A Dog in the Dark" by Richard Adams)
 Tasks to Text 1

I. These phrases come from the text. Find out what they mean. Why is the
information coded in them important for understanding the story?
1. "I got four O-levels at comprehensive school..."
2. "I lodge with Mrs Forster."
3. "You could say he was good for business — broke the ice, you know."
4. "I was driving down the M3..."
5. "...the man was known to the police."
6. "It's not good a sleeping dog to wake."
II. Find in the text words and phrases characterizing the narrator. Make up his
character sketch. Is there enough information in the story to make up Mrs
Forster's character sketch? Do you think the author says enough about the
mugger for your imagination to work on? What details would you add?
III. Answer the questions.
1. The narrator's world is limited to very few living beings. Who are they? With what
feeling are they described?
2. The story is told in the first person. What advantages does it give to the author?
3. What details in the story help the reader to understand that the narrator spent
most of his life on the road? Why did the author introduce them in the story?
4. How does the author show that the phantom dog was not the fruit of his
imagination?
5. The phrase "I feel a new man" is a link with the narrator's future. What do you
think it will be like?
IV. Discuss the story along the following lines:
1. why the phantom dog appeared in the narrator's car and disappeared altogether later;
2. if mysterious occurrences like the one described in the text happen in real life;
3. if the events described in the story can have any rational explanation.
V. Render the story in detail on the part of different characters:
— the narrator
— Mrs Forster
— the mugger
— the police officer
VI. Write a brief account of the crime on the road (about 100 words) the way
you could write it for a local newspaper.