HIGH TIDES

Chapter III

Hombisa

They were spiting her without even trying at this point, Hombisa just knew it.

The Van Der Walts didn't own a dog nor does she have know of their history of ever owning one. They know that any sane black person in South Africa might be afraid of their dogs because of the fear they instilled when hunting them down. So how in the world was she to take on the task of washing the Chevalier's family dog?

Especially after that embarrassment of a spectacle at the backyard?

She quickly got done with hanging the laundry on the washing line, she entered the house still wary of the dog that circled around it's owner's feet. Her head snapped up to Mr Chevalier's son, Timothée when he offered to help her out in cleaning the furry little creature, whining for his attention.

Hombisa was thankful but also feared anything to do with dogs. But because she didn't want to lose this job over a minor task, she begrudgingly followed behind the teen who led her up the staircase to his room.

Upon arriving in the bathroom, she ran warm water in the tub. Russell's energetic panting kept her guard up as she tried her best to keep her distance. Who knows at what time he'll just pounce and eat one of her limbs? The stories she remembered in her homelands didn't ease her in any way, more so quickening her heartbeat at the many possibilities if his owner were to lose control on him.

"It's okay," Timothée voice pulled her from her unkind thoughts, stirring her back to reality. "I promise you, he doesn't bite."

"Are you just trying to make me feel better?" She responded to his attempts, wanting nothing more than to be responsible for another chore at the moment. "Because if you are, it's not working." Her voice came out shakily.

If only Mrs Angie was here... She would know how to keep her cool as she boldly took on the task.

But she was probably getting dinner ready with Olerato. So whether she liked it or not, she was stuck here and there was nothing she could do about it. Other than to face it with a stiff lip.

Timothée managed to calm Russell down as he folded his shirt sleeves back, pointing for the scrubbing brush. "Can you pass me that, please?" She handed it to him quickly, kneeling beside him by the tub.

The boy initiated the first move by washing him down with the soft brush. She soon followed his lead, carefully, however trembly her hand was.

With gentle strokes on the dogs plushie fur, the two worked in comfortable silence. Too engrossed in their work. He would occasionally talk to Russell so that he didn't move too much to startle her, or instruct her on how she is doing so far.

"Is this your first time bathing a dog?" He queries out of the blue.

"I've never been this close to one before." She replied honestly. The only closest she had gotten to a dog was when she tried getting back her doll from a stray dog. Long story short, she never really got it back as it reciprocated it's movements with aggression, chasing after her and her brother.

"I find that hard to believe. Dogs are man's best friend after all."

Russell had his tongue stuck out, panting as his wide eyes wondered. He bowed his head and his cold tongue made contact with the back of her hand.