The Tenant

The dogs howled in the yard.

He watched them through the window as he swigged from his can of strong lager. He loved the animals but he couldn’t have them in his house. His landlord said so.

As he drank more and more cans of a drink that was more commonly known by a name which suggested its drinkers were domestic abuse enthusiasts, he thought it seemed like a good idea to defy his landlord.

He opened the back door and called to the two bulldogs. They were beside themselves with joy as they raced into the kitchen.

He sat on his sofa with the happy canines and cracked open another brew.

Minutes later there was a knock at his door and he went to see who was disturbing his Saturday.

“What are you doing?” It was his landlord and he seemed annoyed.

“I’m just relaxing, you know, like people do on a Saturday.”

“You know what I mean. Those fucking dogs are in the house.” The landlord barged past him.

“How did you know?”

“I know because I’ve got cameras in the house, you fucking retard. I see everything you do.”

This news was quite a revelation. He wondered what his landlord had seen him doing.

“That’s right. Everything.”

He felt embarrassed and ashamed.

“I’ve got hours and hours of footage of you doing quite depraved things. It’s quite a goldmine.”

He felt sick.

The police arrested them both a few days later.