GUIDELINES 

ONE OF OURS
by
Mary Cook

     Visiting England's National Gallery, I’m drawn once more to Uccello's St George and Dragon painting. There are clouds, for no better reason than the artist knew how to paint them. But it's the dragon that commands my attention. I've always loved dragons and this one has been pitifully ill-treated.

     It stands close to the toothless mouth of a cavern – an unconvincing stage set that could be pushed over with one hand. This sad leathery animal is attached by a chain to a scaled-down medieval damsel, ostensibly in distress from the dragon which is bleeding at the nose. It’s clear the dragon is really a pet. Far from being “in distress,” the damsel is obviously about to feed it a bun or a lump of coal.

     Painted on its wings are the circular markings once seen on the wings of aircraft in wartime Britain. Mothers would point them out to their children, saying: “It's all right, it's one of ours.” It was the planes bearing black swastikas that sent them running for shelter.

     An over-zealous George – still a mere “Sir” seeking the eminence of sainthood – has entered stage right and bloodied the creature’s nose, nudging the living fossil a teetering step closer to extinction. Its tearful little eyes express nothing stronger than disappointment at such cavalier treatment.

     Before making too free with their lances, freelance knights would do well to remember that everybody needs a pet. Nowadays, I always carry a lump of coal in my pocket in case I meet a dragon that needs feeding. If it has those reassuring target markings on its wings, it’s one of ours. No need to run for shelter.

© 2007 Mary Cook

Mary is a UK-based freelance writer, editor and former newspaper reporter.
Her articles, poems and short stories have appeared in numerous publications,
both in print and online.