The Last Family in England. Matt Haig

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      saliva

      ‘Duty over all.’

      ‘Duty over all.’

      Although I spoke to Henry every morning, we never neglected the formalities. For Henry, the Labrador Pact and the small rituals associated with it were everything. ‘Ignore the small things, and the big things are beyond control’ – that is what he used to say. And that morning in the park was probably the first time the small things and the big things started to come together – even though I didn’t realise it at the time.

      It started straightforwardly enough. Adam and Mick made their way over to the bench to have their daily conversation while Henry and I headed to the far end of the park, past the large oak trees, for my morning lesson. I don’t really know why I always had to be tutored at such a distance from Adam, but Henry preferred it that way. ‘It helps preserve the secrecy of our mission.’ So that was that.

      ‘How have things been?’ Henry asked.

      ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Things seem to be getting better with the Family.’ I told him about my successful use of wagging the night before.

      Henry looked at me and gently nodded his head. In a rare display of affection, he licked my cheek. ‘You have done well, Prince. I am proud of you.’

      I was giddy with pride, and my head filled with park music. ‘You are a good teacher, that’s all.’

      ‘No, no, Prince. You must not be modest. A happy human Family should not be taken for granted. It does not, as you are well aware, happen by accident. Only those Labradors who devote everything to the cause can achieve such harmonious results.’ He looked over at his own master, Mick, who was busy talking to Adam on the park bench.

      ‘Anyway, this morning’s tutorial is on Sensory Predictive Awareness,’ he said, turning back towards me. Of course, as a former sniffer dog, this was always Henry’s favourite subject and one in which he excelled. He maintained that not only could you smell trouble, but also that you could smell it in advance.

      ‘Prediction equals protection, it’s as simple as that,’ he said, as we sniffed our way around one of the oak trunks. ‘If you can smell trouble before it happens, you will be able to protect the Family at all times. The trouble is, the further things are away from happening, the harder they are to smell, and if we leave it to the last minute it is often too late. But the thing to remember is that the future is already locked in the present. If you can not only smell things in the present but also understand what these things mean, you will be able to unravel future possibilities.’

      Sensing my bewilderment, he attempted to clarify.

      ‘In every room of your Family home there will be thousands of smells competing for attention. These will be smells of the past, the present and the future. Take, for instance, the smell of a human. If they have left the room, the scent lingers. You are smelling the past. If they are still in the room with you, then this is the smell of the present. But is it not also possible to smell the human before they enter the room? Of course. So we smell the future every day without even realising it. There are clues all around us as to how everything will end. Smell, that is the secret. Without being able to develop this most important sense the future remains a complete mystery. That is why humans have failed so miserably every time they try. They rely too heavily on seeing things, be it the stars or the palm of their hand. That is why we must look after them, to protect them from future danger. The key is to –’ Henry stopped and sniffed the air. At first I thought he was doing it for dramatic effect. But no. I could smell it too. I looked past him and saw that, right on cue, trouble had arrived. The scariest, sweatiest, most salivating Rottweiler I had ever seen or smelt in my life was staring straight at me.

      ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ he growled.

      ‘Nothing. I’m sorry. I was just –’ I sniffed anxiously for Adam. He smelt miles away.

      ‘It’s all right, Prince,’ Henry said as he stepped forward. And then, to the Rottweiler: ‘My friend and I are minding our business. We do not want any trouble.’

      ‘Fuck off, you fucking fuck. The park belongs to me. Can’t you fucking smell? This is my fucking kingdom and I don’t want to share it with two gay fucking Labradors. Now fuck off or I’ll bite your fucking throats out.’

      This, I felt, would have been a good time to make our exit. Henry, however, had other ideas.

      ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

      ‘What?’