Honor's lying on her bed, curled up with Baxter, the little cocker spaniel she found abandoned a few weeks back. It's not often you see this, I don't know, soft side to my daughter?
“What the fock do you want?” she goes.
Like I said, it’s very rare.
I’m there, “Yeah, no, Baxter chewed through my Dubes again. That’s three pairs, Honor.”
She goes, “So? We’re rich, aren’t we?”
“Er, that’s not the point.”
“It’s always the point. Jesus, it’s only a pair of shoes. Why are you being all packed lunch about it?”
“Packed lunch?”
“Yeah, it means poor.”
I really must get her to write me a list of all the new phrases - just so I’m up on the lingo.
“Anyway, get out of my room,” she goes. “I’m about to film a new video for my channel.”
Yeah, no, Honor's career as an influencer has gone stratospheric since she storted using Baxter as her sort of, like, sidekick in all of her YouTube videos.
“Hey,” I go, “do you mind if I sit in for this?”
Honor just shrugs and goes, “Do what you want – just don’t focking talk.”
So I stand there watching while she holds her phone at orm's length with the lens pointed at herself and she goes, "Hi, guys! And welcome to my channel. Today, it's going to be all about the sunglasses – because I am all about the sunglasses right now, isn't that right, Baxter?"
Right on cue, the little thing borks. He’s like, “Woof, woof!”
“Now,” Honor goes, “I have 38 pairs of designer sunglasses and it would be even more than that if my parents weren’t such scabby–”
Suddenly, Sorcha bursts into the room, totally spoiling the shoot.
Honor goes, “For fock’s sake!”
Sorcha’s like, “Honor, I had a response to my post!” and she sounds pretty pleased with herself for some reason.
I’m there, “What post?”
She goes, "I put a picture of Baxter on my stories on Instagram, saying my daughter found this little dog wandering around Dalkey Main Street and we're keen to reunite it with its owner."
'Dad, tell her to fock off. Tell her mom made a mistake. Tell her she's off her menopause meds'
Honor’s like, “You did what?”
And that's when the doorbell rings?
“I got a call from a woman from Glenageary,” Sorcha goes. “Amie with an ie shared the photo and a girl who’s in her Bikram class said it belonged to her next-door neighbour. That’ll be her now.”
Sorcha goes downstairs to answer the door.
Honor goes, “Dad, tell her to fock off. Tell her mom made a mistake. Tell her she’s off her menopause meds.”
A minute or two later, Sorcha arrives upstairs with this middle-aged, blonde woman, wearing a pink, cable-knit sweater around her shoulders and Wayfarers on her head.
“That’s him!” the woman goes. “That’s Dusty!”
“He’s not Dusty!” Honor goes, practically spitting the words at her. “He’s Baxter!”
“His name is Dusty!” the woman goes. “And you stole him from me!”
I’m there, “That’s a pretty serious allegation to make.”
“I left him tied up outside SuperValu in Dalkey and when I came out he was gone.”
'Dogs respond to a firm hand. I <em>could</em> say the same thing about daughters'
Sorcha turns around to Honor. She goes, “You said you found him – wandering around Castle Street!”
Honor’s like, “She was shouting and swearing at him! She hit him! She slapped him across the face – twice, in fact!”
The woman goes, "Dogs respond to a firm hand," and then she looks at Sorcha. "I could say the same thing about daughters."
Sorcha goes, “Honor, you have to hand him over.”
Honor’s like, “No!”
But Sorcha picks Baxter up off the bed and gives him to the woman. Baxter doesn’t seem pleased to see her – in so far as I’m a judge of these things.
Honor storts bawling her eyes out. She’s going, “Nooo! Please, Daddy! Nooo!”
I’m there, “We’ll get you another dog, Honor.”
“I don’t want another dog,” she goes. “I want Baxter.”
I’m there, “How does another dog plus five grand sound?”
The woman goes, “You’ll be lucky if I don’t call the Gords over this,” and then she turns and leaves.
I follow her outside to show her to the door.
Honor shouts, “Push her down the stairs, Dad! Take Baxter from her and give her a shove in the back! We’ll say she fell!”
I try to appeal to the woman’s good nature. “Look,” I go, “would you not consider maybe letting Honor keep him? She’s turned him into a bit of a YouTube stor. He helps her with her unboxings and everything.”
She's there, "It would take a lot to persuade me to give up my beautiful Dusty," and there's something in the way she looks at me that tells me she's opening negotiations.
To be honest, I wasn't that keen on getting him back anyway. He kept eating my shoes
This is South Dublin, of course – everything comes with a bor code.
I’m there, “Okay, how much are we talking?”
She goes, “You mentioned five thousand euros to the girl.”
“Five thousand yoyos?”
“That’s what I’d be prepared to let him go for.”
I think about it for a few seconds, then I go, “Okay, wait here,” then I tip down to study and I whip open the safe. I’ve got, like, 10 Ks in cash in there, which was supposed to be my spending money for the World Cup until Sorcha stopped me going. I take five from it, which I give to the woman and she hands over the dog.
She goes, “To be honest, I wasn’t that keen on getting him back anyway. He kept eating my shoes.”
Then off she focks.
I tip back upstairs. Honor is telling her mother, “I hope you die. Actually, I hope dad dies and you live for another 60 years as a lonely old widow who nobody ever visits, including me.”
You can imagine the reaction when I walk into the room holding the dog.
“Baxter!” she practically squeals, then she comes running across the room and takes him out of my hands.
There's no doubt who the hero of the hour ends up being?
“Did you push her down the stairs?” Honor goes.
I’m like, “No, I paid her off.”
“Oh my God,” she goes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I’m like, “You’re welcome. It was worth it just to see the beautiful smile on your face.”
And she goes, “I want that five grand you promised me as well.”
