Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 13
“Get off me. Stop!” Polly moaned with half shut eyes. When he kept nudging his snout into her leg Polly pulled back the blanket, half sat up and looked at Prince. Sure of her attention he motioned toward the closed door and Polly knew that the inevitable had chosen this moment to take place. She turned to the clock and was annoyed to see that it was only 1:15AM, but dutifully realized that if Prince had to go he had to go.
Prince said something like a high pitched “woooooo” and again looked to the door. Polly said; “All right. All right. Let me get some clothes on.” She topped her Flintstone jammies with dungarees and a red velour robe. As Prince whined she opened the door and carefully followed him down the stairs to the back door where he again had to wait. Close to being unable to control himself Polly opened his last obstacle and he ran out. She flicked the switch and could see in the dim light. Prince got two feet onto the grass and let it fly.
She mumbled; “Just made it, huh,” finding the whole affair a good deal more amusing than he did.
Prince glanced back at her while he continued to squat and didn’t think that anything was the least bit funny. He thought;
“If I was a bad dog I could have gone right in the house and then you’d have to get it. You’re a lucky girl.”
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Polly could tell that Prince wasn’t feeling humorous and was not happy with her mirth. When he was done she went over to him, kneeled, put her arms around his neck and squeezed. He thought;
“All right. But this isn’t funny stuff, you know.” She walked back to the door, but Prince felt like showing some degree of obstinacy and went the other way. He really didn’t want to be out in the dark, but made his way to the northern border lined with thick native plants and hid behind them to see what Polly would do. She remained near the house and called his name; softly at first, escalating with each echo. He heard her frustration and thought; “Ha. Ha. Ha.” He peered between the branches of a half-brown Spanish Broom until he saw her begin to move in his direction, and then ran to her. She correctly guessed his rationale and laughed as they returned to bed. Prince again did not know what was so funny, but thought that it must be some irrational human thing.
The next thing that they heard was the insistent clanging of the Art Nouveau clock. It was 7AM and a faint light was visible in the eastern window. Unlike recent history Polly planned to make her first trip with Prince into the wild Bosque and was anxious to get out of bed and bounded to the ground, stifling the messenger. Prince yawned, looking at her as if she was some sort of nut and remained in place.
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With the slightest of coaxing Prince was soon fed and in the back yard, expecting another diligent day of rabbit, squirrel and bird chasing. Rather than the revving of engines he was surprised that the next thing he heard was the back door slamming. He re-directed his focus from the stubborn robin who refused to vacate his yard, remaining boldly at the top of an elm at the northern border, to the door. He ran over to see Polly, who had his long leash in hand.
Though she thought it more likely to run into Leo in the development, the constant surveillance there made her want to break away. She hooked up Prince and they were off, Polly watching the dog’s behind. The concentration necessary to not fall on her head made her forget that she hoped Leo was at the end of her driveway. Prince made the ideal turn, right into the rising sun and they passed the Rulestones who were still playing with their chamisas. They didn’t appear as ominous as they seemed last night, perhaps because they had their backs to the light, shadowing the faces that could have stopped even an Art Nouveau clock. “Hi.” “Hi.” “’Morning.” “’Morning,” and some other indistinguishable sounds of cheer rang out inviting appropriate responses, but Polly was happy to follow Prince’s quick lead to points beyond. As he approached the right-of-way leading to the Bosque Polly slowed him down fearing he would bolt by the turn.
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Prince looked back at her, somewhat bewildered, but after she used her hand grip on the leash to direct him to the trampled grass he was previously denied, he went where she wanted and smelled the delectable blossoming florae touched by the river.
The split grass path was easy to traverse and they quickly passed from being surrounded by houses to deceptively seeming isolation and saw the thick array of cottonwoods, showing new green which obliterated the remnants of last year’s wrinkled brown. A ditch containing dirty water stopped them. Prince had seen the sight previously and knew it was good for a drink and swim. He recalled that Marian expressed reticence in joining him for the fun, so he slowly descended to gauge Polly’s desire. She did the same as Marian, allowing him entrance but staying at the top. He thought;
“Aw, come on. It’s great down here.” Polly smiled, but shook her head “no.” He laboriously climbed back out and instinctively went to the crossing bridge and easily around an ineffectually closed gate. He saw a straight body of water people called the “clear ditch,” because that’s exactly what it was. Prince was perplexed.
It looked the same as what he had just seen. “Why the duplication? Is it so special that it necessitated a gate, no matter how effortlessly passed?” He soon got a close-up view of the three foot running channel which fed off the Rio Grande River, never went dry and had loads of visible fish. Prince went down the gently sloped bank and Polly followed him to the edge. He
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tried to impale a fish in his mouth. Unsuccessful at that he saw the unencumbered reflection of himself and Polly grinning above him. He paused and looked at the rippling mirror images. He pawed at the ghosts, temporarily obliterating them and then watching as they came back. He tried five times, but the stubborn shadows of life always returned. He looked back to her and she shrugged as if to say that this was the way that it was and so what. She said; “If you want to get a fish just be patient.
They’re stupid.” Prince didn’t understand, but thought that they were tricky, evasive and not worth the effort.
He exited and crossed a land bridge which parted the clear ditch. They went up the levee and stopped at the crest to take in the panoramic view of the river, trees, bushes and natural groundcovers. After savoring the delight a few seconds they were compelled to gain the experience, rather than a stagnant view and they both thought; “Wild, let’s get in it.” They descended the gradually sloped levee, Prince excited and moving near top speed.
He didn’t know that his four feet allowed him the luxury of swiftness and that Polly’s two necessitated her going slower than she did on flat land. She had to hold him back, saying; “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Prince was surprised, exasperated and his neck hurt. He looked back at her with a twinge of fire in his eyes and thought; “You wanted this as much as I did. What’s the problem now?”
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Polly took his meaning with ease, but didn’t know how to explain physical differences to him. She knelt on one knee by him, put her arms tightly around his sore neck and squeezed.
Prince knew that his injury was not deliberate and besides, the recovery was well on its way. He slowed a bit as he went down the gently sloping dirt path and Polly extended herself both because this terrain was easier for her and so as not to send him any more confusing messages. They negotiated sun and shadow as they passed through the un-landscaped land, at least not landscaped by anything calling themselves human. Prince went right to river’s edge and stopped. They took in the long view of the moving still life; the cottonwoods on the other side, the vegetated islands in the river, the birds on the water and in the air, the rocky mountain in the distance and the amazingly brown river itself.
Polly daydreamed a while, but was startled back to reality with a jerk. Prince jumped in! She was pulled to the muddy edge and couldn’t stop her slide. She fell down, but her first priority was to hold onto the leash as Prince struggled in rushing water that was over his head. She slowly was immersed to her thighs.
It was as if she was watching the process in slow motion wondering if it had an end before she, too was totally engulfed in the coffee colored sea. She found sunken luck. A water soaked log provided her with some footing and the slide ended. She was able to crawl back to shore with a few slip backs and hands and legs
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covered with mud. Wide eyed Prince did his best to swim with the aid of Polly’s adept pulling in of his leash and both were again on shore. He looked silly covered with mud, his fur sticking up either as a result of it or his shock. Polly exhaled deeply considering herself fortunate to have chanced on the hidden log.
Prince exhaled deeply considering himself fortunate to have been with Polly.
She looked at him and said; “I think we got away with one there.”
Prince believed he understood and stuck out his tongue as an invitation to a welcomed face lick.
Though Prince seemed impervious to it, the wetness made Polly feel cold in the sunny spring morning. She considered heading back home, but didn’t want the neighbors to see her this way and give them an opportunity to make their disdainful comments about her less than immaculate condition, so she followed Prince to points south. He stayed on a clear path bordering the river, mostly in full New Mexico sun and could feel herself quickly drying and again heating up. She appreciated that Prince moved quickly, regularly shaking off his saturation on the fly. They came to a point where the path split into two. One possibility was partially covered with the tan remainder of last year’s tall grass and broken branches and continued along the river. The other seemed clear and turned inland into the woods. After the
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last experience Prince didn’t want to push his luck anymore today, made for the cottonwoods and got no objection from Polly.
After a scenic and mercifully uneventful half mile Polly stopped Prince and sat on the ground. She spent a few minutes brushing off as much of the substantially dried mud as she could, but was disappointed to see that a huge faint stain was not going to go away. She sat and rubbed and rubbed to no avail. Imagining possible Camino De Lucia commentaries she was upset, until she got an idea. If called upon to explain she could lie and say that it was the result of her mother being lax in doing the wash. Her folks hardly knew any neighbors, so there would probably be no method for verification. Freedom is not only clandestine; on occasion it is well served by a harmless white lie.
She grinned and felt slick as a bogged down president on the bayou, knowing that if you keep moving eventually the ground will harden. While Prince was patiently waiting for Polly to finish rubbing herself he detected the scent of something he really wanted to investigate; something smelly, dead and edible. He was unaware that he had some human traits.
He led her off the main path into the never before travelled land, thick with tangled undergrowth, broken tree limbs and discarded vinyl asbestos roofing shingles. He wanted to get there quickly, thinking that someone might beat him to the prize stink.
Polly couldn’t keep up and kept saying; “Slow, slow,” only heard
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by the brittle, off-white, glitter flecked residents, curling up at the edges to accentuate their ears. She had already learned a method to handle Prince’s leash that would minimize her having to yank him. She held it closer in the tough stuff, giving her the option of letting more loose if she dragged behind, and then shortened again when she caught up. It was far from perfect, but Prince seemed in no need of a neck brace.
Polly saw it before he did and they were about to engage in a serious dispute. The porcupine had met its demise a few days prior, however its quills only experienced minor decay and were still quite capable of inflicting painful barbs which were difficult to remove. An even larger problem was the remnant of decomposed meat being enjoyed by hundreds of tapeworms. She stopped and leaned back, keeping him a foot from his “prize.”
Prince thought that there must be some mistake as Marian had let him eat food he found outside and besides, it was just common sense to taste the gift from God put in his path. He tried to lurch forward and was held fast. He looked back at Polly to determine if she had some kind of problem, like having fallen down. Seeing the upright girl (He was not yet introduced to feminist parlance, but at least had the good sense not to say the objectionable word out loud) he kept his eye on her and tried to again move forward. Held firmly in place, he roared and heard red drum sticks tattoo his bass.
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He thought as he stared and growled; “There is no good reason to deny me what I want. You’re just trying to torture me. Let me go or I’ll take a chunk out of you.” He tried to bolt only resulting in a neck stretch as she held the leash firmly.
Though Polly knew nothing of his previous experience with Marian she understood his frustration, but didn’t want him to get sick from the worms. Eyes blazing Prince turned to her and ran over intending to bite. Polly extended her right hand, put it right in his face and calmly said; “Okay, if you have to bite me, go ahead. Here it is. Do it. But you’re not getting those worms.”
Prince stopped, the red drumsticks replaced by the light blue sky he saw surrounding her face. He thought; “I don’t understand at all. I’ve never bitten anyone who offers me a bite. Something is unusual.” He saw Polly close her eyes in anticipation of the pain and he felt something new; strangely guilty for being made to forego something he wanted; and absolutely stupid for leaving something lying right next to him that the next animal to come along will surely take. If he had access to a psychiatrist he’d have surely made an appointment. He rubbed his head against her hand and thought; “You don’t understand.” She hugged him, got up and tried to lead him away, but he tried to return to the carcass.
He heard an adamant; “No, no, no,” sighed and followed her a few feet.
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He got an idea. After a short follow Prince got back in front and walked in a circuitous path intending to come back to the carcass and hoped that Polly will have forgotten about it.
She didn’t. When a few feet away she said a commanding; “No, no, no.” Prince turned to her as if to say; “You can’t blame me for trying.” He thought; “I don’t understand,” but then added to it;
“Maybe that’s it. I just don’t understand, but I trust her.
......... Let’s see what happens if I find a dead squirrel.”
They passed through the woods without use of the main path and entered an area where nothing seemed to grow higher than three feet. The sun was directly ahead and possibly caused vision distortions. While it didn’t strike them as being unusual for the sun to have developed distinct rays which changed in size pointing up, down, left and right, it seemed unreal that after glancing at it the ground level acquired a “fog” of radiant light yellow illumination making it more difficult to differentiate one thing from another. The “fog” contained countless points of shining light that filled the spaces between the low lying mariola bushes.
Their clusters of tiny white flowers appeared pink in the haze.
It was easy to walk through the noticeably loose sandy soil as there were numerous paths which haphazardly crisscrossed each other and looked as if they went in all possible directions.
Polly couldn’t imagine how this cockeyed crazy quilt came to be.
She thought that eighty percent of the paths were entirely
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superfluous and that it was taking somebody a lot of unnecessary work to make so many routes which led in the same general direction. She wasn’t averse to others working as they so choose, but it looked weird in the haze and she thought that if not for the pointless routes there would be more flowering mariola bushes.
Prince thought it possible that the exotic surreal scene was caused by a wide awake dream state. Since he might never get to see this again he slowed to a crawl wanting to sniff and view everything.
Polly kept observing the myriad of paths. They were so well worn that any footprints that might have been there were destroyed by the sheer volume of travelers and/or the wind. What large groups would want to frequent this out-of-the-way place? People seeking privacy? No, privacy would be destroyed by the volume of visitors. But, there weren’t any other visitors now.
Coincidence? Maybe if they stayed long enough they would see a parade. Or maybe the parade is over. This was an excellent place to be in the cold of winter as there was nothing capable of blocking the sun. Forget that as there was nothing to block the wind either. Polly focused on the glowing haze which also permeated the bordering trees. It seemed that way from a distance. Birds, the length of a finger, flew toward them, unafraid, going about their business of worm catching. They
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pecked at the ground and sang in the bushes, pleasantly ending the silence, of which she had not been previously aware.
Prince picked up a scent and he knew at least one of the area’s patrons. Coyotes; and he wanted to find them. He moved quickly between the bushes and Polly had to circle the sharp turns he made, resulting in a few neck tugs and ignored “Slow, slow’s.”
Nose to the ground he often backtracked, changed his mind and basically looked like someone with frantic intensity but no clue.
However, he did have a clue; the coyote scent. To confuse things that might track and hurt them coyotes form circling patterns to throw them off and most trackers give up. Not Prince. When he came back to the same spot for the third time Polly wanted to stop, but he insisted and she deferred to his wishes with only the slightest of protest, saying; “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Had Prince known what she said he would have made no argument.
The pair ran around a 200 by 200 foot area for a while, Polly feeling like a caboose, until Prince stopped short. Polly’s attention went from him to the pale, angular woman holding an opened black umbrella over her head, who sharply said; “What do you think you’re doing?”
Polly was winded, felt silly and thought that the umbrella toting woman must share at least part of that and answered; “I don’t know. I’m just following him. Prince, tell the nice woman
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what you’re trying to do.” She looked at the pale woman and laughed, thinking that her answer was both truthful and amusing.
Ms. Umbrella was not amused, or at least chose not to show it. She sternly glowered at Polly and said; “I can turn you into a toad if I want, so don’t get funny with me.”
Prince might have thought that it would be fun to be a toad for a while, but his vocabulary still needed improvement and consequently he only heard the threatening tone. He made a long, low growl because of it and also because his tracking concentration was now broken.
Polly had no particular feelings about becoming a toad, except that she would then be too tiny to hold onto Prince, so she decided to appear co-operative just in case this nutty woman dressed in all black was a bona-fide witch. She said; “I think I’m running in circles with my dog, Prince. As to why he wants to do that I really can’t say.”
Ms. Umbrella looked around as if she expected visitors imminently. Polly only heard the rapid beating of her heart. Ms.
Umbrella reluctantly smiled and said; “I guess that’s as good an answer as you’re capable of. Don’t they teach little girls anything nowadays?”
“Of course they do. We learn the same things as the little boys.” She hesitated out of fear, and then added; “And that’s woman.”
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“Well, I can see that you do learn some things, but haven’t you learned that there is only one boss?” She pointed at Prince who grunted. He had already dismissed any thought of attack as Polly seemed to be getting along with this strange person. “It’s either him or you. There is no other way. Do you like to be the servant?”
Polly thought; “Oh, no. There is no escape, even out here.”
She felt that she was the victim of people’s (assuming this was a people) incorrect perceptions and worse; they were compelled to broadcast them. She still remembered that she had no desire to be a toad and wasn’t sure that Paleface had the ability to do that anyway, but since she wasn’t one hundred percent certain of that, she answered politely; “Prince is not the boss. Well, he is a lot of the time, but I’m boss when it’s necessary. I’d simply like to see him have as much fun as possible and do whatever he wishes as long as that doesn’t hurt me. I don’t know where older people got their ideas, but it seems clear to me that neither of us is a servant. Just a few minutes ago I insisted that he not eat a worm infested porcupine carcass and he didn’t.”
Ms. Umbrella switched her holding hand to the right, momentarily soaking her pale face in the relentless sun. She squinted and turned to the ground as if in pain, before recovering her composure. Polly thought of vampires, but kept it to herself.
Ms. U’s voice was softer and took on a slightly imploring tone
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when she said; “That’s never been done. Your aim is too high. It is impossible.”
Polly carefully considered her words before speaking. She looked at Prince and saw his happy face looking at hers. She petted his head and said; “How can you be so sure that it’s never been done? Maybe it has and nobody put it in the history books. As to high, that’s a relative term. There is a highest and a higher and I’m only expecting a simple high. And regarding impossible, maybe I have an advantage because I don’t know that.”
Ms. U did not expect such a reply. She didn’t consider it a conclusive scientific observation, but admired its pluck. She said; “Well, just make sure he doesn’t bother my coyotes.” She turned and slowly walked toward the woods, head to the ground.
Polly wanted to reassure her and said; “He can’t catch a coyote as long as I hold onto the leash. Tell me, would you have really turned me into a toad?”
With the faintest of grins the umbrella lady said; “I’m not telling. It’s not impossible,” and vanished into the shade of the cottonwoods.
Prince forgot about the scent he was unsuccessfully tracking and sat on his haunches eyeing Polly. She squatted and hugged him around the neck. She said; “Sometimes adults are so stupid. All they like hearing is bad news. That’s humor for
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some. I guess you sell a lot of newspapers if the headline says
‘WAR BREAKS OUT,’ and almost none if it says ‘PEACE BREAKS
OUT.’” She derisively laughed at the absurd defeatist logic which guarantees failure.
Prince detected movement in the light yellow haze. A huge toad boldly sat right in the center of one of the paths and seemed to be looking the duo’s way. Polly knew that Prince would get sick if he ate it, but Prince didn’t. Polly also wondered who it might have been. Prince bolted after it and Polly restrained him yelling; “NO, no, no, no, no.”
.............................. What a prize! ..............
................................ Crimson percussion ............
........ Grrrr .................................................
....................... Grrrr ..................................
........................................... Don’t understand ...
................................................................
... Hugs .......................................................
.............. TRUST ...........................................
.................................... And the beat went on.
Prince gave up on the toad. He walked as Polly had strongly suggested feeling grouchy. He thought; “That’s two good meals you’ve kept me from and I’m getting pretty darn hungry.”
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South of the fog illuminated mariolas they encountered a larger area with greater distance between the levee and the river containing a mixture of woods and open grassy fields.
Prince got off the main winding path, finding it easy to walk, especially through the grasslands. Polly had no problem and the lack of physical impediments allowed her mind to wander to other things; mainly the annoying penchant people, or witches, or vampires had for making their opinions known about matters which were of none of their concern. Now that she had the chance to think about it she was disturbed that even in the wildest part of Corrales she was still subjected to unwanted garbage. She wished she could dismiss it as just that, but she realized that she had little control over her concern with her appearance and it seemed to be getting worse every day. The internet made everyone with no life think that they had some sort of calling to be a critic. She saw it on her parent’s computer. Jerks who had never written or done anything themselves felt that the rest of the world was interested in reading their “witty” one line put-downs of all forms of expression. Large charge. Though she was no fan she had to admit that at least Eminem was good at it.
In a strange way it really didn’t warrant her thinking about it as even if she knew the root cause she couldn’t stop it. It would only continue to increase and she was mad at herself for dwelling on the stupid subject. The only aspect of control
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available to her was to go outside with earplugs and pretend not to be able to speak English, but then she would be deprived of the bird’s songs. And it was already too late for that flawed remedy as she already knew and could never forget what it was that the busybody’s thought. And the photography capable cell phones that were carried by everyone except her gave the domesticated paparazzi the ability to get their jollies by posting unflattering pictures on their favorite retarded web site. Another large charge. One no longer needed to be a well-compensated celebrity to be subjected to a complete lack of privacy. She wondered if any cameras were yet aimed at her home windows. She understood that she was getting freaked out and if this process continued she was either going to have to get like
“them” or commit mayhem on “them,” which was no solution because on the one hand she would have to forfeit her life and on the other hand she would have to forfeit her life and become a celebrity prisoner. She had to find a way to completely not care and hope that the hawks were too cowardly to swoop or she could become another member of the zombie brigade. Though she hated the cold she thought of living her adult life in Alaska, assuming that the place would not yet be wired to monitor
“terrorist” activity.
A high wind brought in a barrage of white, cumulous clouds which must have been hiding behind the jagged, black and brown,
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paisley mountain. The distaff gathering didn’t threaten rain, but seemed to be on a mission to hastily get somewhere. The sun put up no resistance and continued its steady, slower pace in the same direction, sometimes reserving its rays for the new visitors. The clouds slowed down when they covered half the sky and appeared as though they had plans for staying, leaving the non-combative illumination machine a constant view of the earth.
Ground inhabitants may have painted the scene if they were into pretty pictures, but those without that type of taste merely didn’t like the drop-off in warmth they felt in the shade, still useful on May mornings in the Midwest. Thermometers remained constant.
Since he was almost impervious to the cold, thanks to one of the best coats ever made the only thing on Prince’s simple mind was that he was hungry and that he picked up the scent of some small furry animal and this time he was not to be denied.
He picked up speed through the tall grass and Polly had to concentrate on the ground, eyes peeled for obstacles, allowing her the luxury of temporarily forgetting the blabbermouths and blabber eyes. Prince saw the squirrel leap into a wooded area and up a tree. He stopped at the trunk and they both looked up.
They saw no squirrel, but the lowest branch was occupied by something that approximated human. It was grinning, its huge pointed ears aimed at the sky.
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Prince made a sound like a gruff; “Hmmrrf.”
Polly was so out of balance from her perceived lack of privacy and value judgmental remarks that she assumed it was grinning at her lack of control of Prince. She audibly sighed and said; “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. You’re going to say; ‘Is that dog walking you?’ or something similarly funny.” She didn’t laugh.
It got off the branch and shimmied down the tree, jumping the last few feet. Polly was surprised to see that excepting his ears he seemed quite normal in appearance. He brushed off his black and white checkered pants and without a grin seriously said; “I wasn’t going to say that at all. Believe me.”
Polly was embarrassed, again sighed and said; “I’m sorry.
I think I’m beginning to lose my mind.”
Mr. Checkers said; “I was going to say ‘Is that dog running you?’” He maniacally laughed and hopped in a circle.
Prince considered his behavior somewhat unusual and possibly threatening, so he thought that he’d give fair warning and let out an insistent growl and showed that he regularly visited the dentist.
Polly was crestfallen and thought of letting him go and bite the clown, but stopped when she realized that for all she knew this could be the Mayor of Corrales and then they’d both be in a lot of trouble.
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The Possible Mayor felt terrible when he saw the troubled look on Polly’s face. He slightly stooped and sincerely said;
“I’m really sorry. I’m a complete idiot. I spend a lot of time alone here because I, too want to get away from the gawks. I know how it feels. They stare at my ears and say things when they think I can’t hear, but I do. You have to find a way of not letting it get to you or you’ll wind up in a padded cell with jerks watching all the time.”
Polly gave Prince a slight collar tug and firmly said;
“Stop.”
Prince stopped and looked at the Mayor’s ears, wondering if that’s where the squirrel was hidden.
Polly tried not to make any glance at the man’s ears and looked everywhere else, making it uncouthly obvious where her mind was. What she was doing was so noticeable the man laughed and said; “See. It’s impossible. When you have something unique it is always there, no matter what you try.” He used both hands to extend both his ears, stuck out his tongue, bulged his eyes, smiled and sang; “I don’t care. I don’t care. They can laugh at this. But, they don’t dare.” After finishing his face went back to “normal” and he solemnly said; “But, I do.
........... Care, that is.”
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Polly reached out and touched one of his ears and said;
“It’s not bad at all. It just has the slightest of points and had you not told me about it I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Liar.”
“If you insist.”
Prince openly scrutinized the man’s ears, ready to roll if something popped out.
The man’s loose gray smoking jacket required another button fastening and he said; “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“This is the first time I’ve taken him here or I might say that this was the first time he has taken me here if you like.
It would also be fair to say that we both got here independently. Other possibilities include ...... You better be rude and cut me off before I get carried away with myself.”
Polly needed a hefty air re-supply and inhaled deeply.
“Did you meet any of the semi-resident weirdoes yet?”
Polly didn’t want to risk babbling about the subject as she wasn’t sure what would come out, so she intended to say a simple
“No,” but unfortunately made it sound more like “No?”
“You mean to tell me that that crazy coyote woman has not yet descended on you?”
“Oh, sure. Yeah. I thought you said weirdoes.”
Checkerboard felt as if Polly was making light of the situation and said; “You certainly have to admit that she is
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scary. She scares me, anyway. She threatened to turn me into a toad?”
“Do you really think that she can do that?”
“I don’t know. But I have never known her to be a liar.”
He slowly and timidly shook his head sideways.
“Have you seen her turn anybody at all into a toad?”
“No, but I don’t watch her all day and there are plenty of toads around.”
Polly concluded her interrogation by saying; “We’ve seen that.”
Prince tired of the diligent quest for knowledge and made a move toward the South. Polly staggered two steps and continued on Prince’s way. Checkerboard couldn’t resist saying; “See who’s the boss.”
Polly stuck out her tongue as she barreled by the man, who put his hands on the cottonwood as if he were about to climb it yet again. He watched Polly and Prince depart, then called out;
“Be careful.” All she heard was the rustle of the young green leaves.
Polly was glad to be going to a potentially uninhabited area and walked as quickly as she could behind Prince. He turned toward the river utilizing a coyote path, the grass beaten down, but no dirt exposed. She ducked under low cottonwood limbs, having to slow him down at the risk of her
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head. His cooperation suggested that he understood. They walked alongside the river on no path whatsoever, the largest hazard constant tall grass. The wind reached ground level and was intense where they were with nothing to block it. At the same time it cleared out the sky’s white water carriers, putting them back in full sun. Prince charged in desirous of a drink and a soak. It was obvious that he became nervous when he encountered a spot with a drop-off, the water over his head. He frantically moved his feet seeking traction and succeeded in slowly swimming against the current with the aid of Polly’s tugs. He exited the water showing obvious signs of feeling relieved, hanging his head sheepishly while Polly was mildly amused knowing all along that as long as she held onto the leash he would be all right. Prince shook off the bulk of the liquid accumulation and he looked so cute that Polly was compelled to kneel and cuddle him. She murmured; “I love you, Prince. We are finally alone.” The breeze rustled through the infant leaves, masking the sound of anything else moving.
They followed the river until they came to a spot both found either strange, interesting, precarious or a combination thereof. It was a two foot drop-off from the grassy, wooded land they had been navigating to a long and wide rocky and sandy area, probably recently emerged from under the river as there was no vegetation at all. They stood still in the continued
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marine breeze and looked. They were much closer to the opposite Native American side than previously as for the first time they were able to detect the enduring signs of a fire usually invisible from the Corrales side. The small charred logs stood upright in their rightful place as if the ghosts of once majestic cottonwoods were unaware of the massacre. On the Corrales side the sand was still wet as if its emergence was recent and tenuous.
Prince looked up at Polly, who shrugged her shoulders and said; “Don’t ask me.” He dove from the insignificant platform, confident that she could easily follow. Polly had no problem with the leap, but she did have some difficulty walking in the drenched sand, finding it little different than mud. She found better footing on the dark pebbles and tried to steer Prince in such a way that she could stay on them. He didn’t have the faintest idea what she was trying to do to him, but grudgingly tolerated it, unless it deprived him of being somewhat near the tiny ripples of sea continually erasing the distinctions with shore.
The leash stretched to its fullest and both were insistent.
Prince couldn’t imagine any good reason to keep him from enjoying the shallow water and Polly thought that he had had plenty of water already and should submit to her desire not to be in mud. The only communication between them was mutual
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glares. Prince recognized her insistence and deferred to it, recalling his recent rescue from the high tide; for a while. He made half-hearted attempts to pull her his way, accepting her reasonable reluctance until he felt that he would have been considered overly reasonable in any judge’s court. He surprised her with a full strength burst to the gently rippling water and made it there, but then was jerked to a quick stop. He turned with rage in his eyes and saw Polly sprawled in the mud holding onto his leash. He thought; “Uh oh,” and the rage was converted to sorrow. With head down he took tiny steps in her direction, worried that the prostrate body of his good friend was seriously hurt. He sniffed the long, formerly blond hair that now had sandy streaks. Polly elevated on her arms and screamed;
“Yaaaaargh.” Prince backed away in fear of what might happen next. He had no idea as to the particulars, but didn’t expect anything good. She wiped the sand away from her mouth with a hand of similar quality. She spit and said; “You are the dumbest, most stubborn dog in this country.” She stood up with difficulty, sliding in the mud and raised her free hand. Prince retreated to the maximum chain length distance. She brought her hand down and Prince winced and closed his eyes. He felt a furious rubbing on the top of his head, opened his eyes and saw Polly looking like the mummy before morning cleanup, but smiling at him shaking her head slowly from side to side. He wanted to
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say that he was sorry and that he now understood that she had some kind of problem with mud, though he really couldn’t fathom what was so difficult for her when it was so easy for him. He got comfortable and enjoyed the rough petting he was now getting all over and she sweetly said; “Jerk.” As always relying on tone, he thought that might be his pet name. Polly felt the warmth of the unencumbered mid-morning sun magnified by its reflection off the river and decided to sit there until it had dried out the mess on her. She wanted to be able to brush it off before she got back to the “civilization” commonly referred to as Camino De Lucia. Though he wanted to keep moving and possibly find something luscious and furry to eat, he decided that he’d better not push his luck and sat next to Polly.
Without speaking they watched and heard the river’s never ending journey as the temperature rose.
A bit after mid-day they passed through the mercifully vacant street leading back home. Polly thought that they were un-accosted because it was lunch time, an adept rival for favorite local pastime.
Polly led Prince into the yard, left him there, and went inside to change, get his food ready get her own. She charged upstairs glad to see there was no one to see her muddy garments.
She slammed her bedroom door in haste and heard her mother’s
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voice call out; “Where have you been. Lunch has been waiting for you.”
Polly yelled from her room to the voice that was somewhere downstairs; “I’ll be right down. I know I’ve been out a long time. One minute.” She thought; “Big rush. I’ll eat when I’m hungry anyway.” She washed up and changed into clean clothes.
Upon her entering the kitchen Mom was nervously messing with the doohickeys on the automatic disposal. She often did this when she wanted to pretend being busy and since she didn’t know anything about the doohickeys on the automatic disposal, they never got fixed; If anything they got worse. In a voice reminiscent of proper office procedure, Mom said; “You’ve been out a long time.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Your lunch is waiting?”
“Well, I’m here now. Bring it on.”
Mom didn’t know exactly what she was looking for; perhaps some sort of apology, perhaps a rendition of where her daughter had been, or perhaps a future time estimate so that she would know precisely when to freak out. She asked; “Is Prince okay?”
“Yeah, after the first fight the rest couldn’t even draw blood.”
In the voice of a “concerned” social worker Mom asked; “Who was he fighting with?”
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“I’m just kidding. He didn’t fight with anything. So let me devour these tasty baloney sandwiches, even though they don’t even have mustard.”
Mom sat at the kitchen table and slid the mustard bottle across it. Polly was sure to catch it as the velocity of the bottle was sufficient to warrant a possibility that it could go right off the sleek edge. “Thanks, Mom.” As she chewed she also spoke; “This is what we did. We went right into the Bosque and almost made it to Albuquerque.”
“Any problems?”
“No ....... Not really.”
“Meet anyone?”
Polly frowned and hunched her back. “Yeah, I was surprised.
We actually met two, two mind you; way out where nobody usually walks. ...... And nuts? Jesus.”
That wasn’t remotely near what she wanted to hear, so in a voice like a doctor informing one that one is, indeed diseased, Mom queried; “What kind of nuts?”
“Oh, harmless. We promised not to bother one woman’s coyotes and that made her happy. And there’s some guy up a tree, kind of a part time hermit it seems, who’s hiding because he thinks that the coyote woman will turn him into a toad.”
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Silence persisted for about ten seconds, broken by Mom, who in her own pleasant voice said; “You’re kidding again, right?
That’s a good one.”
In a high, sincere voice Polly said; “No, I’m not kidding.”
The front door slammed and Dad soon entered the kitchen, looking as if there were something he wanted to say to Mom in private. He did a double-take on Polly.
Mom said; “Polly tells me she’s met “nuts” at the Bosque.”
Dad said; “Can’t be any worse than the ones you meet right here in this development. Polly, do you walk by that yellowish house around the turn?”
Polly answered; “Yeah, I think so. The one with lots of adobe walls?”
“Yes. Can you stay away from it?”
Polly was going the other way to the Bosque and really didn’t care, but was curious and asked why.
“There’s a guy who walks around in there wearing adult diapers.”
Mom looked at Dad questioningly, so he continued; “I mean like that’s all he was wearing and he’s sixty years past being in the carriage.”
Surprised to find that some Camino De Lucia rumors are true, Mom opened her eyes widely and said; “Oh.” She smirked and added; “That’s so funny. You mean Wallace?” Dad nodded and
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she put her hand over her mouth and said; “You sure it’s not a Depend adult undergarment? That’s a more precise phraseology.
I’d love to see that.”
Dad replied; “Whatever. And you’re not going there, either.”
Polly interrupted to say; “Point of order, here. I have not yet agreed, so you have to take out the “either” part.” Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Polly added; “At least for the time being.”
Mom jumped in and with a straight face said; “Of course I’m not going. ...... But, do you think you could get me a picture.
A blow-up would be great in the garage.”
Dad jumped in, pointed a finger at Mom, saying; “Don’t worry. I’ll get you something you can ...... Never mind.” He then pointed to Polly and said; “And as for you, little ......
woman. Tell me that you are going to stay away from the place.”
Polly hurriedly said; “All right. All right. Jeez.”
An hour or two before twilight Polly had her old clothes back on and went out to again feed and play with Prince. With futility he was trying to climb a butterfly bush to get at a bold, trespassing, tiny bird when he heard the back door slam.
His concentration broken, he ran right to Polly. He ate and she got a tennis ball out of the triangular room and walked toward
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the back. When done he looked her way, expecting another departure from the yard, and stayed near the exit to block her from going back in. She waved the ball at him and then threw it to the southern border. Prince wasn’t enthused. He had come to expect a “real” walk at this time of day. Besides, he wanted to again see Checkerboard Pants and find out how to climb a tree.
He hung his head, but Polly began play without him and ran after the ball. Prince thought; “Doesn’t she understand that you just can’t willy-nilly change a dog’s routine without upsetting his system. Darn it.” He took off full-tilt trying to get to the ball first. The result was a virtual tie as when Polly got her fingers around the ball Prince also had it in his teeth. Each tried to pull it away when the other eased up, resulting in many back and forth movements, but the ball remained the property of both. Polly let go of the ball and grabbed Prince instead. She put her arms around his belly and tried to wrestle him to the ground. He kept afoot by short paw maneuvers, wondering what was going on. She saw that this tactic produced no results, so she used one hand to grab his front legs and rolled him onto his side with the other. Prince was down!!! He had not had the experience since Assassin, which seemed ages ago and it was confusing. Polly climbed on him, but made no attempt to bite, instead wanting a wrestling match. Her arms were better suited to this sport than his, as every time he came near breaking away
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she pulled him back, using his paws. This somewhat amiably went on for a while until one of her leg pulls injured his back ACL
muscle. The pain was sharp and he yelped. She let go recognizing that something was very wrong, but he thought he had accomplished that of his own volition. Drums pounded as he shakily stood and eyes bulged, looked right in her face. If he could speak he would have said; “I can bite effectively you know.” When he saw that her eyes showed sorrow rather than aggression he turned around and ran in circles around the yard until his muscle felt better, then came back to her, panting.
She petted him profusely, but he had enjoyed their game up until the accident and wanted to wrestle again. He pawed at her until she resumed, which she did reluctantly and worse; very softly.
She didn’t want to risk him getting another injury, but Prince would have none of it. Unable to get him down with feeble, half-hearted attempts, she was soon confronted with a disgusted Dalmatian face. He seemed to be sneering as he looked at her thinking; “Aw, come on already.” Polly grabbed a front paw and when she wasn’t greeted with a bite, gradually upped the tempo, successfully finding a balance between hurtful and interesting.
They went on playing their games and even invented a new one. Polly would throw the tennis ball against the back of the garage and catch it on the few bounce return. It was obvious to Prince that his role here was to attempt to stop the ball from
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getting to her wherein she would again throw it. He couldn’t use his hands as she, but quickly discovered that if he could bump it with his snout, he could then chase it down quicker than Polly and then she would have to catch him to get it back. She really couldn’t catch him unless he stumbled, but he would be sly without revealing it, making it closer than his full effort would have produced, sometimes making a “wrong turn” right to her. He didn’t know that she, too, was being sly and less than perfect in the places, speeds and heights of where she threw the ball.
Polly saw that dusk had arrived and that Prince didn’t show any signs of tiredness. She re-introduced their wrestling game and in a few minutes got him back into her leg scissors hold, where he flopped around like a beached mackerel until exhausted.
“Normal” activities rounded out the evening.
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