Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 8
Soon the car-cage-monster, black Saab stopped in the gravel driveway of a two story, Southwestern styled house. Everyone exited. Prince was anxious to explore his new surroundings and as a result of following the path, comprised of brick and concrete square tiles, succeeded in leading his family to the red front door instead. He reluctantly allowed Polly to hold him there, succumbing partially because he felt he had been doing that all day anyway and the results had been fine so far.
“Why mess with a lucky streak?” he thought. He sniffed at the deep brown stucco finish, detecting a recent cottontail caller.
Prince looked up at his new family to see what they thought about that, but they were apparently too excited about him to pay the unwanted, departed visitor any regard. Dad did something magical with his two hands and the heavy door swung open.
Prince had never seen or smelled anything quite like it; a mild lacquer antiseptic stench sitting on a minefield of synthetic fabrics and structures. He sneezed and shook his head. Upon being released from his chain his first thought was to find someplace that was made and smelled naturally.
The human trio got a kick out of his explorations, but had no idea of what he sought. Dad called out; “You know what? We forgot to have a doggy door installed.”
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Mom dryly replied; “When something goes wrong the ‘we’ word becomes convenient, doesn’t it?”
Dad clucked his tongue and with a tired voice responded;
“Don’t start that old stuff ......”
Mom cut him off and with a wide eyed grinning face said;
“Just kidding. Have you entirely lost your perspective?
Everyone knows you’re a closet feminist.” She hugged his limp body.
Dad grittily replied; “You know I’m also an overt masculinist, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I can tell. Don’t be insulting. You and I both know that it’s only the morons who think the terms are contradictory. Too many choose to focus on every possible source of conflict.”
Dad gradually started laughing and firmly held her. He made a low humming sound.
Mom cleared her throat and nodded in the direction of Polly. They curtailed their brief hug and Dad murmured; “Yeah, right.”
Polly saw them looking her way and didn’t understand why or what they were talking about. She used her patented question and said; “Are you both nuts?” She was answered with a mutual, self-confident and unhurried affirmative bobbing of two heads.
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Polly’s attention was demanded by Prince as she saw him tugging at the plastic covering on the black, pillowed couch behind Mom and Dad. She yelled; “No, no.”
For an instant Mom and Dad thought they were being chastised, but they quickly heard what sounded like a package being crudely ripped open and turned to it. They both yelled;
“No, no.”
Prince got the idea that his activities were unsuitable.
He stopped and looked worriedly at the family as if to say; “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Dad grabbed his collar and led him to the door. Polly ran to be with him and in no time the three were in the back yard.
Polly pleadingly said; “Daddy, he didn’t know,” unknowingly conveying his precise thoughts.
Dad petted Prince’s astonished head while eyeing Polly. He calmly said; “I’m not mad. We’re just going to have to keep him out here until we can figure out a few things.”
Mom was surveying the damage and decided that the couch looked better without the ludicrous, cheap plastic on it. She ripped the distended covering off and sat down. She was pleased that she no longer stuck to it and didn’t miss the little scrunching sound it used to make whenever she moved. Dad re-entered and Polly remained outside with Prince primarily to show that she was not upset with him. Prince quickly forgot his
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indiscretion as he preferred the appearance and bouquet of the three quarter of an acre back yard.
A quick look would fool some into calling it a square or a box. It was actually longer at the northern border and gently tapered to the smaller southern side. The land gently rolled.
The edges were thick with plants and trees, making mowing a cumbersome endeavor, so those areas displayed natural vegetation of long grass and whatever else felt like growing there, a perfect place to recline and hide. The center was open, only intruded by two full sized apple trees, very close to each other. Not currently in bloom the few apples in evidence were the remains of last year’s crop, lying withered on the ground waiting for the summer strengthening of the sun to finish the job. The openness made it perfect for carefree running.
Prince first patrolled the edges. He found that he was constrained by a wire mesh fence supported by tall wooden posts at ten foot intervals. As he pursued his sniffing and tasting repertoire, he forgot the hindrance as he could see right through the obstruction. The precious adjacent yards, flat and devoid of growth, held no interest for him. The straight and dry road to the north, fraught with billions of tiny stones had all the allure of a worn out, discarded copy of the December 1959 “Corrales Comment.” Maybe less.
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The house border was a bit more complex. The sides mimicked the rest’s unkempt vegetation, trees and bushes. It, too had identical wire fencing, but this obstacle separated him from the quarter acre front yard. He wondered why it was taboo and planned to find out one day. Different, but less strange was the thick bushes and trees right behind the house. There was no fencing and a small passage in the center allowing one to enter a tiny private area and then to go home.
As he wandered his new surroundings he couldn’t help but relate it to his previous experiences. He wondered when his next canine opponent would emerge and do its best to kill him.
Wanting to not be surprised he looked for possible entrance points and found none. He knew that preparation and concentration were essential. He thought that he must have missed something and picked up speed trying to quickly find the danger zone, consequently becoming oblivious to the loveliness that surrounded him.
Polly sensed his mood change and was worried. She tried to catch him and give him a big cuddle, but his speed allowed him to evade her. He thought; “Why is she trying to stop me from properly protecting myself? She’s setting me up. She has already. Her favorite dog will descend on me any second.” The drumbeats in his head kept increasing intensity. Soon he was no longer looking for a possible point of entry as all he saw was
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red in deeper and deeper shades. He felt something on his neck, wheeled around and struck.
Polly was shocked that Prince had bitten her hand. Prince was too and he furiously licked at the wound, thinking; “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll never do that again.” He wished he could speak. Polly was hurt and angry. She recalled the warnings she had received about Prince being a fighting dog.
She worried that she had made the wrong decision, but Dad was complicit and she could always blame him. The blood was still flowing, but it had slowed down to a trickle. She looked at his sincerely sorry face and realized that if she told her parents about this it was possible Prince would wind up back at the shelter. She didn’t want to risk that and decided to keep this their little secret. She knelt down next to him, put her left arm around his neck, hugged and kissed him. He licked her face thankful for her forgiveness.
She rose and held up one finger to him and walked to the small triangular room behind the garage to get a bandage. She was attempting to communicate; “I’ll be right back,” but he thought she was emphasizing her injury, getting worried and confused. He slowly followed her. He stayed ten feet behind concerned that she might be seeking reinforcements.
He had experience with duplicitous fighting dogs who pretend to have given up, waiting for him to ease up. His
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concentration broken they would then launch a sneak attack. Or so they thought. Prince never lost concentration, always remaining on his guard. The annoying, retarded game was merely an imitation of a human one wherein a person calls attention to themselves to say; “I want to be left alone.” Too overly obvious to fool a puppy playing for keeps.
But to his delight Polly was straightforward. Prince watched her put something on her injury and then take something off the room’s worktable. He followed closely behind trying to determine what surprise she held as she walked back to the open area. She threw it and ran for it! He followed its flight running at top speed. He caught up to it before it stopped rolling and took it in his mouth. He thought; “What is this strange furry thing?” He rolled it around with his tongue and saw Polly running toward him smiling. She said; “You’re supposed to bring back the tennis ball, silly.” Instead he ran away holding on to it. When he saw Polly run after him he knew he did the right thing. His two tone ears flew back as he ran full tilt toward the southern boundary, forgetting its fence imposed limitation. Too late he saw it, dug his paws into the dirt and slid to the barrier. He wound up on his side nestled in the tall remnants of grass. The temporary stop allowed Polly to catch up with him. She straddled his motionless body,
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blocking any potential escape route with her legs and put her hand on the ball still held firmly in his mouth.
His initial instinct was to grip down harder attempting to keep the ball, but he quickly realized that could result in an accidental bite, so he loosened his hold. Polly pulled the ball from his mouth and jogged away with it. He did the same thing that he had just seen her do and ran after her. He caught up much more easily than she did and he tried to pull the ball from her hand careful not to get flesh. Laughing, she raised the ball over her head and spun around as he jumped for it. Tiring of this she again threw it and ran in its direction.
“What?” he thought. “This is where the game started. Do we do it again?” He got an idea. He let her get a head start and tried to time it so that he would get to the ball a fraction of a second before she did. He was successful in carrying out his plan, but did not anticipate the difficulty of picking up the ball in full flight. He bit at it and only managed to knock it further away. Before he was able to come to a stop and re-route himself Polly picked up the ball and again threw it. He learned something that he needed to know to be successful in future play. While he was much the quicker of the two she was beyond him in her ability to change directions and grab the ball. He wondered if that was due to her deliberateness or the fact that she only had two feet and very sure hands. He thought
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that she could run faster if she chose to, but wasn’t certain.
His all-out abandon had thus far resulted in a collision with a fence and an inability to pick up the ball. Maybe he had more to learn about this game. This could prove more challenging than learning to fight wherein you basically go for the throat as soon as possible and hold on until the opponent is still.
This game is more complicated, but it’s more fun and nobody winds up dead. Prince ran after Polly more leisurely than last time. Maybe they would come to the ball at the same time.
It was an approximate tie necessitating a photo finish to determine the precise result. He got his mouth on the ball the same time she stooped to grab it with her hand. He tried to pull it away and so did she. He looked up into her now fiery eyes and saw the determination which was looking down at him.
He strained and emitted a low guttural sound which frightened her so soon after being bitten that she let go of the ball. He was elated at his victory and ran away at top speed, it now being her turn to try and catch him.
Polly was mad. She felt that she was either cheated or threatened; maybe both. She casually walked in his direction thinking that she’d like to register a complaint and establish a rule; no growling. She couldn’t think of any way to communicate that to him and even if she found a way he would probably say
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that he didn’t growl at all. It was more of a struggling sound.
It would be a reasonable point. Still, she was mad.
Prince reached the fence boundary, turned around and was surprised to see Polly so far away. He thought; “I chase her when she has the ball. But she’s not chasing me when I do.
Unfair! Nobody designated me the permanent chaser and if they did I’d tell them to keep the job.”
Polly couldn’t think of any way to say what she wanted.
She decided that the best thing she could do was to ignore his growling or struggling sound and to growl back at him and see how he reacts. She ran straight at him and he head faked to the right and darted left. She managed only to get a brief grasp on a back leg and tail before he ran to the other side and again waited near the fence, perhaps defiantly showing her that he still had the ball with his head cocked slightly back. She ran to him, but this time stopped ten feet away. He again looked right and she made a slide step in his direction, though in her case she went left. He saw that she had refined her technique and now posed a real threat to his previous maneuver, calling for a new plan. He ran straight at Polly, freezing and confusing her and darted right at the last moment. Her reaction was too slow and Prince again went around her easily and ran toward the fence. Frustrated she took off right behind him. He didn’t look back. As a consequence when he stopped and turned
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he was surprised to see that there she was. She kept moving and despite a tiny, confused, supposedly evasive move from him she dived and got her arms firmly around his belly. He tried to squiggle loose, but only succeeded in winding up on the ground with Polly. Now that he was somewhat incapacitated she used her right hand to grab the ball and tried to pull it from his mouth.
Soon they were both on their feet having a tennis ball tug of war. He made a growling or struggling sound. She growled, put two hands on the ball and pulled it free. She ran away holding the ball above her head with Prince in pursuit.
Mom and Dad had entered the backyard a few seconds prior observing some of the action, Mom carrying a huge fringed brown pillow. In a mock overly serious professorial tone Dad incredulously called out; “Isn’t he supposed to be fetching and bringing the ball back to you, or some such thing?”
Polly threw the ball and Prince ran after it. She walked to her parents smiling and said; “We’re inventing our own ways of playing.”
Mom and Dad returned the smile, strongest from Mom, while Dad knelt and hugged his daughter. Prince retrieved the ball, but when he saw that Polly was with her parents and no longer chasing, brought it back and dropped it at the trio’s feet.
Dad patted his head energetically and said; “You’re such a good puppy.” Prince liked the attention and rubbed his body
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against Dad’s leg. Dad continued; “Now I going to give you the bad news. The house just isn’t set up to accommodate a frisky puppy, so you’re going to have to stay out here.”
Polly exclaimed; “No. Why?”
Mom intervened; “You saw what he did with the plastic couch covering. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and find objects of doggy interest chewed and laying all over the place.”
Polly curled her lips into a nauseated look and watched Prince happily wagging his tail. The first hint of evening became obvious as the feeble sun became more inconsequential as it drifted behind a light cloud congregation near the western horizon, casting long shadows barely distinguishable from the ground on which they lied.
Mom cupped Polly’s chin with her right hand and said;
“Don’t be so sad. He’ll be fine. We’ll leave the door to the utility room slightly open and leave this pillow for him.”
Before she could possibly encounter any more discussion of the matter Mom walked to the room and put the pillow on its concrete floor. It was not a standard chamber in that it was triangular and while it appeared as such when viewed from the outside it contained no access to the house proper. It had two doors; one leading to the backyard and one to the garage. It contained water pipes and water receptacles, one emblazoned with the words “DEEP-WELL-AGITATION CONTROL,” the purpose of which no
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one in the household knew, but most importantly it was well heated to preclude freezing, now of most relevance to a flesh and blood puppy. Of particular interest and importance was a
“Texas Floor Safe,” circular with a radius of seven inches and protruding three inches from the triangle’s approximate center which held the family valuables. Now it would have a caretaker and guardian whose pillow touched its edge. Curiously Mom and Dad found its combination of 3-12-9-20-20-25 too easy or too logical or too predictable a pattern, while the former owners said that they could never remember it and regularly required
“professional” help to re-establish access.
Mom went back to the house and retrieved dishes of food and water, placing them in Prince’s room. In the excitement of the day he had forgotten all about eating, but with the temporary lull he raced to the dishes; gorged and guzzled. Polly was compelled to give him one more head rub before Mom and Dad ushered her back into the house.
Feeling ready to go again after finishing his nourishment Prince went back outside seeking Polly. He was puzzled when he didn’t see her and perused the property searching, concentrating on the tall brush. After circling the enclosure three desperate times, getting more distraught with each step, he became completely distressed and bewildered. He thought that they were coming to know and like each other, but she was gone. What was
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the point of this new game she was playing? The fighting game was distasteful, but if he did well he was granted privileges and given admiring attention. What was his prize for doing well at this strange innovative recreation? Abandonment? Did he really do well or was that just wishful thinking? He had no way of being completely sure so he ignored the doubt. While the sun declined to its overnight resting place he angrily chose to avoid the new triangular prison left for him. He lay down on the ground twenty feet from the house with his head resting on his front paws and stewed. In the dark stillness he heard voices and unfamiliar tinkling sounds that were magnified by his attentiveness. He caught brief glimpses of figures passing by closed windows, which paid him no notice, content to self-centeredly rush on to the next window or disappear into parts unknown. He decided to be obstinate. He didn’t need their paltry gift of a stupid, tiny, oddly shaped refuge despite its heat. He was a Dalmatian and his thick black and white coat could easily withstand a temperature of zero. He drifted off to sleep and dreamt of his bloody glory days.
Prince didn’t know how long he slept, but the next thing he knew Polly was by an open second story window. She rapped on the glass and called his name. He stood and looked up at her.
She whispered some things he didn’t comprehend fully, but he got
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the general idea that among other things she was trying to direct him to the heated triangular room. It was not what he wanted to hear and he shook his head obstinately. She disappeared. He flopped back down, now even more disgruntled than before, as he didn’t like being woken up, told what to do and then again be abandoned. His throat made a low displeased grumbling sound much like a very old man with no choice other than accepting precisely what he doesn’t want from someone who knows full well that he doesn’t want it. A situation which comes to mind is being expected to be grinning and optimistic while the smiling doctor tells you of the necessity and effectiveness of chemotherapy, while you know he is really doing rough calculations of the financial effect on his “practice,”
appropriately named, as opposed to an endeavor with which one is capable and long finished with “practice.”
He had already been through a lot and the puppy felt like a cranky old dog. He thought about digging a tunnel under the fence. It wouldn’t be the least bit difficult and he could always return to the heated triangle if things actually were as dismal as they appeared from the bordering fence. As the thought was gathering more and more credence in his mind he was again disturbed by more noise. The back door opened and out stepped Polly wearing a lavender robe over her Flintstone’s jammies. Her arms were crossed over her chest in an attempt to
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fend off the middle thirties night temperature. As she expected it didn’t do much good and she was worried about the effect it must be having on him. He stood up with no idea of what was to come.
In a high whisper Polly said; “Prince, what are you doing?”
Prince was unable to make a good accounting of himself, so he merely maintained his dumbfounded expression and thought; “I don’t know. Mulling things over.”
She placed two fingers inside his collar and attempted to lead him to his new improved house of detention. He wouldn’t move. She pulled hurting his neck and dragged him a few inches.
He growled and heard the drumbeats. His instincts were to bite, but he somehow recalled that he had already done that once today and was immediately sorry. He considered other non-violent options at his disposal. He could let her bring him to the place he viewed as a jail and come back out as soon as she left.
It was pragmatic but struck him as something like lying. He wanted to be truthful in his relationship with Polly as it just obviously seemed the right thing to do and besides, things get too confusing and complicated otherwise, not worth the effort.
She let go of his collar and walked to the triangular room hoping he would follow. He didn’t as he thought it possible that had he entered she would leave and close the door behind him. Polly stood at the entrance and implored; “Oh come on,
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Prince. I don’t want you to freeze out here,” as she leaned forward, hands on knees, feeling the chill permeate her extremities. From her tone he thought that she was trying to do something she considered kindly, but since he was relatively immune to the cold, he couldn’t understand what that was. He stood firm and looked at her probingly. “Doesn’t she know that I’ve been spending much of my recent time in a cage and don’t want to go back? How would she like to be restricted to such a tiny area?” He didn’t realize that his questions applied only to physical circumstances and that in actuality Polly was subjected to constraints of a mental or social nature, though she did her best to minimize her deference to the iron laws written only on the inconsistent wind.
Polly didn’t want to risk rousing her parents with any commotion, so she knelt and said; “Please Prince.” His gaze approximated total confusion; mouth partially open revealing his long tongue and eyelids blinking over orbs of opal, a look she found his most attractive. He remained as stationary as the motionless evening air.
Polly sighed, left the door ajar and approached him. She rubbed his silly head and said; “That’s all I can do. If you get cold go in there.” She reluctantly walked to the house back door eyeing Prince. He followed behind her and the two stood huddled on the three foot long threshold.
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Polly said; “I’d really like to, but my parents will kill me.”
Prince didn’t understand one word and didn’t find any sense in her ambiguous tone. He remained in his place ready to charge in when she opened the door. She took pleasure in seeing him so determined and quickly re-assessed the situation. She slowly shook her head “no,” at the same time displaying a Mona Lisa almost smile and said; “Okay. Come on. But, you’ll have to be out before my parents get up.” Polly opened the door and Prince followed her to the stairs where he ran up ahead of her and waited at the landing. When she got to the top she again led him to her room and closed the door behind them. She removed her lavender robe and climbed into bed. Prince eagerly jumped in. She reclined and he cuddled next to her. As she adjusted the alarm on her Art Nouveau clock she saw that it was midnight; the start of Easter Sunday.
They slept peacefully until the incessant clangs of tiny alarms put an end to their slumber. She aimed one half closed eye at the rude offender and he craned his neck around wondering what was going on; hoping it wasn’t the signal for Round One.
His eyes panned the room for his next opponent, but found nothing that wanted to fight. Polly leaned across and pushed the shutoff button restoring tranquility. She got up and put on her robe, while Prince preferred the velvety comfort of the
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Queen-sized bed. She went to the door and said; “Come on, man.
We’ve gotta get.” He understood what she said precisely, but didn’t agree with her biased conclusion. Having determined that there was no marauder in the room his own biased conclusion was that there was no good reason to abandon his comfort zone. He re-closed his eyes, grumbled and settled back in. Polly was anxious to get moving, but thought that his human-like behavior was cute. It mimicked her own. She walked back to the bed and stroked his back. He liked that and lay there waiting for more.
She noticed that he had some sleep in the corners of his closed eyes and used a finger to clear it away. It took a few swipes and Prince wasn’t pleased, as it had the effect of jarring him back to the reality of having to get out of bed. She again went to the door and called his name. He recognized that to keep this insistent girl happy he would have to rise. He looked to the partially open window and saw that it was still dark. He decided to compromise. He always liked belly rubs, so he rolled onto his back, paws pointing to the ceiling and looked at her.
She understood precisely what he was saying. It made her smile to see his vertical posture and his silly face, which was turned to one side affording him a better view of her while resting on the back of his head. She went back to him and rubbed his belly and under his chin. He stretched out to the maximum and periodically raised his head to lick her face. It tickled her
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and she thought that he should know the same feeling, so she licked his. She started to playfully rub his belly rapidly. He squirmed and decided that she was being very reasonable with him, so he rose and jumped to the floor, leading her to the door. She followed him out, down the stairs and to the back door. She opened it and went out with him. The full moon provided the only visibility, but it was more than adequate.
Polly petted his head and said; “I love you, Prince.” She held up her right index finger hoping that he would understand her meaning which was “I have to leave, but I’ll be back.” Polly continued to hold it up as she re-entered the door saying; “Bye, bye Prince,” hoping he would come to understand that this meant that she would be gone for a while.
Prince understood the meaning provided by the finger, but wasn’t clear on the verbal message. He sighed and looked up at the moon thinking; “She’s crazy, but I like her. I haven’t got the slightest idea why I have to be out here, but I trust she has some reason that makes sense to her ....... Maybe someday it will make sense to me too ...... But, I doubt it.” He chuckled at his new reflective observations. He lay down on the ground and found it shockingly cold after becoming accustomed to Polly’s warm bed. It was like someone who had lived comfortably without air-conditioning at home becoming unable to live without the luxury after experiencing it elsewhere. Was that a
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necessity or an acquired taste? He had no idea. He had a more pressing priority than thought. He got up and jaunted to the heated triangular room, ate, drank, lay on his fluffy fringed pillow, closed his eyes and slept waiting for Polly’s return.
He dreamed that he was back at the shelter. He was romping enthusiastically in the dark with his seven fellow prisoners.
He sensed that dawn was imminent and he told them that they must return to their cages. They stared at him sadly with looks that said if they knew how to ask questions they would. He was secretly glad they couldn’t as he had no answers. It didn’t make any sense to him either, but he had seen enough of the system to know this was for their best. He prompted a second time and because they seemed to trust him went back to their prisons and shut the gates behind them. They watched as he did the same.
He woke up on his pillow in his heated room. He was unsettled, recalling his old friends and hoped that they had learned to temporarily escape and know when to go back without his lead. He then felt very stupid for not understanding what Polly couldn’t tell him. Worse, he should have known because he knew the concept. Just as he couldn’t tell his fellow prisoners why, Polly couldn’t tell him. It was unfortunately the case.
Polly showed him that indeed freedom is temporarily clandestine.
He didn’t find the thought a gloomy one. First he had been a
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prisoner of his requirement to fight. Next he was confined by very escapable bars in a small room. Now he was detained in his own heated triangular room on a plushy cushion with access at will to a big back yard. This was undeniably significant progress and he was still only one year of age.
He contentedly closed his eyes making a small wry smile.
He thought about what the future might bring. He visualized an end to fighting, cages, prisons and the need to hide from scrutinizing, mean-spirited and entertainment deprived retards with access to 7,836 channels. He saw the “human” appearing observers who impose these conditions dry up and shrivel to microscopic stature as a result of their untreated disease. He didn’t know that the world was already at least half way to his vision. He slept happy and hopeful for tomorrow.
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