Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.
Chapter 3
The following morning the animals were understandably restful, rather than restless, at the Corrales Humane Shelter.
Everyone was sound asleep despite the snoring produced by Gustav, a five year old, mild mannered German shepherd. Unlike most of the others he never had the experience of being an unwanted dog. He spent happy years with his human companion.
Then his friend got Parkinson’s disease and could no longer take care of him. Gustav doesn’t know this, but his friend regularly contributes money to the shelter in order to keep him alive until he is adopted.
After enjoying the best night he’s had in some time, Gustav was lying on his side in his cage, sounding like a sputtering lawnmower, when Debby opened the front door, jarring everyone awake. No one moved very much and there were a number of yawns as legs shakily stretched out. Debby was surprised at their blasé attitudes, as she was accustomed to being greeted with anxious yips, signifying desperate needs for food or anxious needs for a trip outdoors.
She discerningly eyed the crew as she walked to her desk wondering if any of the volunteers had come in unannounced last night and had taken them all for walks. Some were very adept
Page 41
with dogs and were capable of taking three at a time. She checked the log-in sheet and didn’t see anyone’s name after the prior morning. That wasn’t conclusive, as many of the volunteers’ interest was in making the dog’s life better and they were not prone to thinking about paperwork, no matter how minor. She again took a close look at her charges and saw that some were trying to go back to sleep and the others looked back at her, bleary eyed and contented. She was certain that something unaccounted for had happened last night, but it posed no problem, as it was for the better.
Under no pressure to dole out the food quickly, she strolled to the other side of the room and drew open the picture window’s blinds. It appeared as though it was going to be another good April day, as the sky was substantially clear. The sun had already attempted to show its head over the mountain, but was being hindered by a thin gathering of bulbous dark clouds resting at the top of the Sangre De Cristos. There was a gentle but persistent breeze coming in from the west, which carried the possibility of clearing, if it could climb the treacherous, jagged rocks.
Debby prepared the morning meal, shoveling cans of donated food into plastic dishes. She carried them to the cages and was surprised to see that, though the dogs were inside, the cage doors had not been snapped shut. She made mental note that she
Page 42
would have to mildly chastise the perpetrator, when she found out who it was. She was surprised that none of the dogs had pushed on the door, thereby opening it, but dismissed the thought when she considered that she, too, would stop trying to push open a locked door after two or three attempts. She further thought; “The dogs currently in residence have been here long enough to have exhausted their quota of futile attempts, with the exception of the newcomer, Prince.” She looked his way and saw him standing in his cage looking at her, with a content, satisfied expression, his tongue hanging out, as if he could read her mind. His Buddha posture resulted in her momentary unease. She fastened each gate after she dropped in their meals and freshened their water.
She hadn’t been back at her desk for more than a few seconds when the front door swung open with a force which might have maimed someone unfortunate enough to be standing near it.
Pasquale Inglacio resounded a hearty; “Good morning, Debby.”
“Good morning, Squale (pronounced Skwally). Thanks for coming, but how many times do I have to talk to you about the way you open that door?”
Squale’s eyes shot to the ceiling and his forty year old, olive skinned face evinced a frown. He said; “Sorry. You know I am a passionate man, overly anxious to come here and help the unfortunate dogs.” He bowed at the waist.
Page 43
“Well, don’t kill ‘em before you help ‘em. All right?”
She laughed at her need for issuing warnings to someone who had been a great help and had never hurt any of the dogs with his gusto infused entries. He did nail her right in the behind, once when she was cleaning up a doggy “accident” near the door, but she was adequately padded to absorb the shock with one staggered balancing step.
“All right, my love. All right.”
“You weren’t in here last night, were you?”
“No. I would have signed in. You know I am a believer in following the rules.”
“I know, Squale. I’m just checking everyone. Someone left the cage doors open.”
Squale disapprovingly shook his head. He perused the caged dogs, strutting slowly by them. He saw “Prince,” and called out; “New one, Debby?”
“Yeah. We got him the night before last. The guy who dropped him off said he was trained to be a fighting dog.”
Debby knew that Squale fancied himself the local version of “The Dog Tamer,” and that with his fiery temperment he would feel challenged to tame Prince. She didn’t think that would be such a bad thing.
Squale put his hand on top of Prince’s cage and hit it twice, making sure he had the puppy’s attention. Prince looked
Page 44
up at the confident, grinning, unshaven man and was reminded of people for whom he had previously done involuntary command performances. The two stared into each other’s eyes, not intending love. In his patented enthusiastic way, Squale called out to Debby; “This puppy doesn’t look so tough to me.” Unseen by Debby he removed a stick from his back pocket and held it near the gate. He kept his eyes on Prince hoping that the dog would get his meaning. He couldn’t know for sure, but Prince did.
The dictator reached into a pocket on his dirty, tan, synthetic jacket and removed a short chained leash and a choke collar, re- hiding his stick. He said; “This is for your own good. If you’re going to have any chance of being adopted, you’re going to have to learn to obey.” One might have believed him if they didn’t see his maniacal smile and bulging eyes. He opened the gate and Prince retreated to the rear of the cage.
“Afraid?” he taunted. “Good, that’s the way it should be.” He reached in and grabbed Prince’s front right paw and tried to pull him forward. Prince lost track of everything else around him, excepting the marauder’s hands and the sound of drums that permeated his head. He instinctively considered biting, but held back thinking of the stick and that he was not yet in any physical danger. Prince leaned back and Squale pulled his paw forward, causing a momentary sharp pain, akin to closing a door
Page 45
on one’s finger. The puppy had no choice but to go forward and through the door, the drums more loudly pounding their beat into his head.
Prince opened his mouth and placed the side of his head, teeth exposed against Squale’s hand, as if to say; “I can bite you if I choose.”
Marian was driving her two year old, red Toyota hatchback quickly down Corrales Road. She was twenty minutes later than usual and was rushing to get in at least a short walk with the strange dog she met yesterday. She thought that they might understand each other’s eccentricities and wanted to get him used to her touch, in an effort to show him that all humans are not crazy mean. Some, like her are capable of co-operation.
She parked in the back lot of the shelter and was surprised to see Prince’s unmistakable white coat 100 feet away.
She was horrified when she also saw that he was being viciously yanked around by a man who was also hitting him with the leather leash handle. “Heel! Heel!” the man unsuccessfully commanded while Prince tried to pull away from him, ignoring the agony and lack of oxygen triggered by the choke collar. Despite his fear of the stick the pulsating beat of the drums reached their climax as it was desperation time. If he got any weaker he would pass out, so the only remaining option was to attack.
Page 46
Prince saw Marian hurrying to the thus far, one-sided confrontation. She stopped ten feet away, took her cell phone from her pocket and snapped off five quick pictures.
Squale’s attention went to her and he loudly said; “Hey, what are you doing?”
She put the cell phone back in her pocket and said;
“Gathering evidence to have you charged with cruelty to animals.”
Squale knew that photos of what he was just doing would look very incriminating, so he tried to assuage Marian by calmly saying; “I’m a volunteer at the shelter. I love animals.”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
Prince tried to walk to Marian. From the change of tone he thought she carried some sort of magic. But he was held back by Squale, who said; “You don’t understand. This is a dog which was trained to fight and kill. If he doesn’t get properly trained no one will adopt him and he’ll wind up being euthanized.” He again yanked Prince back violently.
Marian agitatedly said; “No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. I’m a volunteer too and I had him out yesterday without any problem.” She knew that was stretching the truth, but she felt no obligation to be completely honest with a dog abusing slob.
Page 47
Squale retorted; “You probably were too soft. Spoiling a dog doesn’t do him any good.”
Marian knew that there was a fine line to be drawn, but didn’t see any benefit in discussing that with this brutal idiot. She looked down at Prince and saw that his neck was bleeding from the choke collar and said; “Let’s make this simple. You either give me the leash right now or these pictures go to the authorities.”
Squale hesitated, but when he saw the conviction in her resolute face and eyes, he gave her the handle. She knelt down and removed the choke collar. She disgustedly threw it ten feet away and substituted it with a well-used soft leather collar she carried with her in case of emergencies, that was once the neckwear of one of her long gone canine companions.
Marian knelt by Prince to assess the damages, primarily to his neck. As she tried to obtain a thorough look, Prince was still jittery and tense. He frantically licked her face, knocking off her wire rimmed glasses. He was not yet sure, but he hoped that Marian had taken control from Squale, who was still standing nearby watching the two.
While she detected some degree of bleeding on Prince’s neck, he didn’t seem to be suffering, as he started to quickly lead her toward the ditch. When Squale saw Prince in front, he was compelled to offer more of his canine acumen and said;
Page 48
“You’re going to ruin him. Dogs only understand one thing, leader and follower. I see which one you’d prefer to be.” He sneered, noticeably exhaled air from his fat nose and managed to deposit something green on his upper lip. In an effort to not be obvious in his faux pas, rather than wiping the snot wad off with his hand or a handkerchief, he extended his tongue upward and captured the morsel, thinking he would not be noticed.
Marian didn’t care about his dining proclivities, as, more importantly, she had already been seeing red strawberries and his last stated piece of “wisdom” caused a deepening in color to that of a passion fruit. She yelled; “You’re the one who only understands one thing and it’s obvious you’re not the leader.
If you don’t get away from me, I swear to God, that I will have you prosecuted.”
Prince didn’t know the meaning of her words and hoped she wasn’t yelling at him. When he saw Squale shuffle away he realized that he was not the object of her wrath and that just like timid dogs, some humans back off from the mere sound of a competent growl. He made a mental note that he would have to practice different dialects.
As the self-deluded, would-be-surreptitious booger man threw his incriminating stick into the ditch water, both he and it faded into the distance. Prince slowed down his gait and walked side by side with Marian. He considered her his savior
Page 49
and he wanted to get a good look at her. The sun had just made its escape from the thin line of clouds in the east and it’s now unhindered rays illuminated her determined face. It caused her long gray hair to appear as if it were extended three more inches in a glowing, soft sparkle.
Nearing the ditch, Prince could not restrain his thirst and overheated body. Despite a less than insistent “No” from Marian he went down into the murky water. He slurped away and replenished his energy. The cooling process was instantaneous as the muddy water came up to his head and half of the time covered his entire body. Marian winced at the thought of his neck wounds being immersed in water not suitable for bathing.
Prince winced too, but in his case it was the result of more than a thought. It was the stinging sensation he felt below his head. He climbed out of the water and gave her a sheepish look, as if to say; “I just had to do that.”
She smiled at him and patted his head a few times. He headed further down the road, slightly in front, but not pulling at the leash. The scent of the shrubbery on the opposite side of the water piqued his curiosity and he became motionless, sniffing the air in its direction, his unpleasant, burning neck reminders forgotten. He somehow knew that she didn’t want to cross the water and was perplexed. The smell was of a juicy fast food bag and it seemed strong. He imagined uneaten
Page 50
hamburgers, onion rings and French fries; his favorite special treats and this time he didn’t have to fight another dog to get them, if he could only figure out a way to get to the other side without requiring his friend to traverse her obstacle in a non-soaking manner. He had it; bridge! He remembered one of yesterday’s lessons, that being that you don’t have to come up the same way you go down. He made a minor variation on the theme and concluded that he didn’t have to go right after the goodies. He could pursue them in a circuitous manner by leading her to a bridge first.
In his excitement he moved a bit too fast and Marian couldn’t or didn’t want to keep the pace, resulting in his collar irritating his neck. She didn’t know what prompted him to suddenly require rapidity and said; “Whoa, whoa. It’ll be there when you get there.”
Prince didn’t understand what she said and even if he had that ability he would have disagreed heartily. His experience in the competitive world suggested something more like; “If you slow, you blow.” He slowed down a bit, but was still moving too fast for her liking and the chain was consequently strained. He had to make mini stops to allow her to catch up, during which he scanned the area for others who might desire the aromatic treat.
Seeing none, he slowed to Marian’s speed and hoped that a hidden raccoon wouldn’t pop out of somewhere. He glanced at her face
Page 51
as they walked almost together, thinking; “Oooooh, can’t you move just a tad quicker?” Her edgy expression suggested that she was doing her best.
Finally reaching the bridge in what seemed like a lifetime to Prince, he crossed without breaking stride, but Marian stumbled on the elevated first step. She remained on her feet, but her necessary pause resulted in Prince being sharply jerked back, re-reminding him that he had a fragile neck. Simultaneous with her trip, Marian let out a sound that approximated “Whoop.”
Prince looked back at her thinking; “I slowed down for you.
Can’t you hold up your end?”
She interpreted him correctly and sarcastically said; “So sorry that I have only two legs.” They continued on, each a bit disgruntled with the other’s performance, but each also doing their best to acquiesce to the other’s “unreasonable”
requirements.
Nearing Prince’s object of desire, he got off the path and went through ten feet of eighteen inch tall brush to get to it.
Marian had no objection as she could tell that they were entering the final phase of their excursion and the blue denim pants she wore protected her legs from any surprises that she might encounter in the soft brush. Then she got her first glimpse of the fast food bag buried in the weedy undergrowth.
Her instincts were to pull him away, but he already had his
Page 52
whole head inside the bag. He exited, chomping on a half-eaten hamburger replete with onions, pickles, lettuce, tomato and some kind of sauce unknown to her. She tried to get it away from him, but he would quickly move it to another spot when she bent over to do so. She was able to get a full view of Prince’s passion and contented herself seeing that it had no worms or mold. She sat down and watched him dispose of the entire contents of the bag, item by item. Chicken nuggets, onion rings, French fries and a breakfast sausage were the order of the day. He chewed at the small plastic packages of ketchup and managed to draw it out, getting some on his furry face. She was amused and continued to recline as he re-investigated everything there, hoping that in his haste, he had missed something.
Feeling full and satisfied Prince temporarily forgot about having the misfortune to meet Squale, the “Dog Tamer” with the loud mouth. He walked to Marian and brushed his snout against her face. It tickled her, causing her to pull away from him and stand up. She immediately realized that he might see her action as a rejection, so she bent over, kissed him a number of times and energetically petted his back. Prince sensed the warmth of her touches enhanced by a strengthening sun, both of them now free of any annoying hindrances.
He walked through the interesting brush and she easily followed him, hoping that he wouldn’t again smell something
Page 53
edible as she thought that he had already consumed more than his share. Tiredness overtook his curiosity, compelling him to re-cross the bridge and walk back to the shelter. Marian opened the door and he went right to his cage, anxious to nap. Before letting him in, Marian took off his temporary collar and replaced it with his blue leather model, which was waiting on the cage top. She loosened it a notch, not wanting to further irritate his neck.
Debby wordlessly watched the couple, becoming accustomed to the unexpected behavior exhibited. She said; “Marian? What happened to Squale?”
“I hope he strangled himself with his chain.”
“That’s a bit harsh. Why do you say that? He’s been very helpful around here walking the dogs.”
“Helpful, my ...... you know what. I got five pictures of him abusing Prince.”
“Abusing?”
“Yeah. He was strangling the dog in the choke collar and at the same time was beating him with the leather handle. I wouldn’t let him walk any more dogs if I were you.”
Debby really didn’t want the news and was also shocked at the story. She said; “Are you sure?”
Marian showed her the photos on her cell phone.
Page 54
Debby shrugged in exasperation. “That’s really bad news.
It’s getting harder and harder to find volunteers.”
“Well, the dogs would be better off sitting in their cages than being beaten by that sadistic freak.”
Debby slowly and sadly nodded her head affirmatively.
Page 55