Here Come the Dogs Read Online Free

A cluster of shoes already there, like grapes on a vine. Aleks smiles, turns and takes a gym bag from the top cupboard, well out of reach of little hands.
    â€˜Come on, Mila!’ he yells.
    â€˜Coming!’
    He reaches for a pair of old boots, caked in clay and spattered with paint, and thinks for a second of all the brand-new sneakers in Solomon’s room. As he slips his boots on, he looks through the bedroom door athis wife Sonya, still asleep, her blonde hair halfway across her face. He tiptoes in, bends down to clear her face of hair, then kisses her forehead. She doesn’t wake.
    As he ties his laces in the doorway, his daughter appears at his shoulder with a mischievous grin. He wipes a smudge of Vegemite off her cheek then pinches it. She squeals when he tickles her and then bounds out the door ahead of him. ‘Hurry up, Dad.’
    â€˜You should eat
ajvar,
not that Vegemite crap,’ he says half-heartedly.
    He throws the gym bag into the back of his white Hilux with the cans of paint and rollers. It’s suffocatingly hot inside the vehicle and the belt buckle burns his hand when he touches it. ‘
Pitchka ti mater
!’ he swears, then immediately looks around to make sure Mila hasn’t heard him. He picks up a stack of CDs, stops to look at the Souls of Mischief one but instead throws on a Tose Proeski album that his cousin Nicko burned for him. These are the rules he has made – Macedonian at home and in the car. Australia, the outside, takes care of teaching her English. He stops at a petrol station to fill up and chats about the World Cup with the owner, an enormous, shaved head Samoan man with big teeth. Aleks has always loved how Islanders can convey so much with a simple arch of the eyebrows. He speaks to the man in a soft, ingratiating voice and claps him tenderly on the shoulder. The man once tried to converse with Solomon in Samoan. Solomon looked like a child and couldn’t answer the simplest questions; how impotent and ashamed he had seemed. Aleks heads back to the car, chewing a Mars Bar.
    â€˜
Tat
?’
    â€˜
Da
?’
    â€˜Mum’s birthday’s coming up.’
    â€˜I know, baby.’
    â€˜Can we go on a holiday? Pleeease?’
    He turns his head and sees that her eyes are on him, an unnerving, mirror-like blue. She reminds him of his sister Jana. Aleks passes a hand through his sandy hair, winds down the window and drums his fingers on the side of the door. She’s right – the family needs a holiday. Soon. Somewhere tropical with long beaches and rosewater sunsets where Sonya can have some time to get better. Or maybe even back to Macedonia tosee the family. He knows it’s unrealistic, unless he can find a way to earn a lot of cash, quickly.
    â€˜Maybe we could go to Madagascar,’ says Mila.
    â€˜What’s in Madagascar?’
    â€˜Lemurs. Chameleons.’ She says the words in English with a broad Aussie accent. Aleks smiles.
    â€˜You know, you look like a little lemur. Where’s ya tail?’
    â€˜Daaaaad!’
    â€˜All right, all right, relax. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we can build a raft outta coconuts to get there.’
    â€˜Would that even work?’
    â€˜Well, you won’t know until you try.’ He winks.
    â€˜You’re the best, Dad.’
    â€˜Hey, you know the rules. Macedonian only in the car.’
    â€˜
Da
,
da
.’
    A police car drives by and Aleks turns his cheek, his whole body tightening. He’s driving on a suspended licence. Shouldn’t have had that shot in the morning; in fact, he might still be a bit pissed from the night before. He has to be more careful, for his family’s sake.
    â€˜What’s wrong, Dad?’ Mila is cocking her head. Nothing escapes this one.
    â€˜Nothing sweetheart. What are you studying at school today?’ He ruffles her hair.
    As she speaks about assignments and the upcoming swimming competition, he passes the