The Fly


The Fly

Does anyone remember the film, The Fly, from about 1986?

When you look back at films like, The Day of The Trifids, they seem rather puny alongside today’s horror movies, and yet, in my day, they were very scary indeed!

This story is about Stripey, who I have written a post about before, and a fly.

Stripey was a giant of a Lurcher.  Imagine the biggest Greyhound that you can, all muscle, shiny coat, chunky legs and huge feet.  This was Stripey.  A gorgeous looking animal indeed.

Stripey was scared of many things though.  He probably lived in kennels a great deal for the first 18 months of his life and so was not adjusted to the outside world.

He was frightened of lampshades and things above his head or noises coming from upstairs.  He was also frightened of street signs.

I remember passing a transit van that was advertising a t.v programme and it had a huge picture of a green giant on it.  Stripey would not pass the van.  He barked and barked at it.

We often fed Stripey outside, weather permitting, and flies would come around his food. He spent ages chasing them off.

Our Collie loved to roll in anything from fox poo to horse muck,and she often smelled, and flies would follow her around.  Stripey did not like these flies and he chased them all the time, often forgetting his meal.

Stripey was not inclined to roll in stuff.  He must have been watching our Collie and he did roll in the grass once, copying her.  He also tried to put his shoulder to the ground once, but that was not quite his scene.  He preferred to smell nice.  I used to call our Collie a ‘farm dog’.  She would swim and then roll in leaves and corn and come up looking as if she had been plastered in glue and had all the leaves and wheat stems stuck to her.  Plus the smell that went with it all!

One summer we had all the doors and windows open, and I am not one for killing flies or anything, and so the blue bottles kept buzzing round the house, chased by Stripey.

He did manage to kill one.  I wondered where he had gone as he had stopped running about.  I found him hiding under the dining room table.  He was staring at the dead fly in the middle of the hall floor! The tiny fly, dead on the floor, and the huge Stripey hiding under the table scared stiff of it!  I tried to coax him out, saying that it was only a fly, but he would have none of it.  He did not come out until I disposed of the little critter.


Barbara Burgess ©2015


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