Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 7
In his excitement Prince temporarily forgot about Marian and as a result he soon felt his collar tighten. She was moving as quickly as she could, taking pleasure in his exuberance, but had to say; “A little slow, a little slow.” Prince reduced his speed, appreciative of the fact that he would never have gotten to this place if not for her insistence. In a few steps that seemed forever and a day to him the drop off mysteriously ended, just as it had begun. They walked almost side by side toward the blossoming woodland, as Prince continued at a sluggish pace, according to his speedometer. He wanted the time to view his options, as he had never been to this complicated area before and he had countless choices to make. Before he could get into the woods, straight ahead was a ditch jam-packed with muddy water. Or he could bear right and uphill to a higher path to God knows where, or head left and hope for some marvel which wasn’t in his current line of vision. Marian seemed to have no particular preference as she wasn’t directing him in the least.
Prince looked up to see an amused face. He wished she would take this seriously for a moment and give him some direction.
He continued to watch her, hoping she would understand and show him the short way to the paradise of the trees. She was in no hurry and seemed to be enjoying the aimless lumbering. He
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stopped walking and savored the free feeling of having no particular place to go. He knew he would get there eventually and if he got there slowly, it meant that he would get to be out of his cage longer. He settled into this satisfying way of thinking and all too soon Marian moved. He felt a gentle tug in no particular direction, perhaps toward the sky and he knew it was time to get up.
He still wasn’t certain of his direction, but knew he had to make a choice. From past experience, he knew that Marian did not want to go through the muddy water. He didn’t want to sail into the unknown on the right. So, he went left at a steady pace and hoped for a pleasant surprise. He was quickly rewarded as they found a black iron bridge traversing the water which led directly into the woods. He was elated, having made the correct choice, using only his good instincts. Marian followed him, desirous of seeing his next preferences. She had been to this spot previously and knew that all roads eventually lead to the private enclosing woods.
He scampered through twenty feet of scrubby land, oblivious to the well-worn path at his disposal. He passed between two mature cottonwood trees and stopped, startled at suddenly being substantially shaded by the many irregularly shaped branches which now surrounded him. Some reached for the heavens, some bent toward the dirt and some attempted both destinations,
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apparently having had a few major changes of mind. Prince walked slowly among them learning quickly that the dirt-benders are the most dangerous, as if he looked to the sky he would risk butting his head on one. If he had been here as often as Marian, he would have known their locations and warning signs preceding approach. For the safety of his skull he was obliged to keep his head and eyes to the ground, while she was free to watch birds. He didn’t mind in the least as his posture afforded him access to aromas he had never before enjoyed. He made a few investigatory stops, while Marian patiently waited, wondering what it was that was so interesting down there.
Prince’s feet made a minor, but, to him, unexpected slip on dead leaves. Requiring no recent precipitation, their undersides were continually wet and slimy, surreptitiously contradicting their dry and wrinkled facial appearance. Last year’s glorious green sky riders now lay on the ground in complete irrelevance, serving only to impede the traveler’s progress, in crinkled brown, red, or gold. Rather than each finding their own place, they tended to prefer clusters, finding safety in numbers in surface depressions. Others of a more devout nature congregated in piles, successful in having those at the top of the heap being raised a few exalted inches from the dirt, the rest buried in eternal night. An intermittent breeze invaded the wood and the well-practiced, useless ones,
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manipulated each gust to be an excuse to swirl a few feet from the floor, acting as a dust devil, attempting to attain, but never coming close to, their former lofty stature. Perhaps they were adept at fooling themselves into believing that they still had some significance and that if the breezes would only be courageous enough to intensify their potency to cyclone stature they would be back to their correct position. Their continual ineffective attempts caused some to sympathize with their ridiculous endeavors. The young buds on the early spring cottonwoods laughed mockingly. When the wind subsided the conclusion was always the same. The antiquated leaves always returned to their slippery underfoot position. They often switched piles and served as only a temporary, spiteful annoyance to those progressing through their unconcealed graves.
As a testimony to their senselessness and lack of vision they did not know that soon the merciless, scorching, summer sun would perform their cremation. Old uniforms choose to die hard and the pigheaded, obsolete leaves that might be considered fortunate landed in the river, to be carried away to a destination unknown.
Prince observed this phenomenon, annoyed that the bands of circling leaves had the audacity to infest his area. He charged at one, only to find that it had no substance, akin to an evil spirit. He smirked derisively after passing through its
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nothingness and saw the dead fall back down to their fleeting, proper place. He frantically explored the ground in an attempt to find one and put it out of its misery, but to his color blind eyes they all looked the same. He looked at Marian searchingly, as if to say; “What’s this garbage all about?” She couldn’t surmise his exact phraseology, but got the general idea. After spending a lifetime with elusive, obsolete, uncaring spirits she concisely laughed, then smiled at him, admiring his youthful instincts. She furiously patted his upward glancing head and disclosed; “You’ll never know the half of it.” And he wouldn’t and couldn’t.
Prince and Marian made their way through the trees slowly and then for the first time he saw the Rio Grande River. He was in awe of the size. It was as brown as the ditch water, but it had a faster flow. Great islands inhabited its center, seemingly impervious to the current. He wondered who lived there and how they came and went without being soaked. He descended a small, rocky embankment and stood at the edge.
Marian followed, effectively using the rocks as stairs. He looked back at her and she nodded affirmatively telling him that he could go in if he wanted to. He immersed himself. The level was higher than that he had experienced in the ditch, forcing him to do a doggy paddle in some spots. He felt uneasy when the rushing water went over his head. He lost sight of the fact
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that Marian had the chain well in hand and could easily pull him back if need be.
Prince came out of the water with co-operative chain guidance and direction provided by his friend, making the successful exit from the surging water easily. He suddenly noticed that he was very tired and hungry. He had been up almost all night and had no breakfast before heading out with Marian. He started to briskly walk back the way he had come, but Marian didn’t feel that she was through with her intended hike and held him back. He turned to see what the problem was and came up blank. He wished he could tell her his needs, but words failed him. He widened his eyes and motioned with his head, but all she could gather from that was his desire to leave and not the reason why.
She was adamant about spending more time with him and let him take the lead a while to see if he might just want to backtrack a bit. She knew of a spot she wanted to show him, further out, where after going through a narrow pass, more natural woodland was available for exploration. He hurriedly went further than she wished and she again brought him to a halt. He felt the collar tighten and he thought; “Oh, no. Why is she teasing me? I don’t understand.”
Marian didn’t understand either. Prince was out on his feet and not knowing how to communicate that, he did what came
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naturally. He sprawled out on the dirt, sighed and closed his eyes. His front and back paws were tucked under his body and his chin was flat to the ground. “Cute,” she thought and sat next to him stroking his back. He made a low resigned groan and minimally re-positioned himself, moving no more than a wearying eighth of an inch. Marian now knew half of the reasons for his strange behavior. She thought; “But, why should he be tired?
This was far from a long walk for a young puppy.”
Prince rolled onto his side, ready to settle into a long slumber, while Marian continued to curiously observe him. Her mind was on him, in an attempt to see things from whatever possible point of view he may have. She was unable to come up with anything which was capable of passing any degree of scrutiny, so rather than spend the morning with a sleeping puppy, she decided to defer to his wishes. She stood and gently tugged at his collar. One eye gave her a discerning look and then he realized that she might be amenable to going back. He jumped up, started walking briskly and pulled her back the way they came. She walked as fast as she could and almost kept up with him without having to tug.
She opened the back door and he burst through, going directly to his cage. He went in still attached to his chain, as a result of which his entry jostled the cage, spinning it around. Fortunately the enclosure’s floor position evaded a
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disastrous crash and merely re-positioned its placement, giving Prince a different point of view. Unexplainably, Marian found the entire operation comical. She reached into the now voluntary prison and with difficulty removed her chain and put it back in her jacket pocket where it waited for its next endeavor. Prince made a low, non-threatening groan indicating that he desperately needed to sleep regardless of his humanly imposed impediment. He didn’t care in the least whether he was with or without his cumbersome supposed limitation. To Prince it was easily adaptable with Marian.
Marian stood up and saw fourteen curious canine eyes watching the activities. While she was accustomed to this kind of surveillance, it was unusual to also see eight human eyes concentrating on her or perhaps on her tired walking partner.
Two especially lively hazel ones belonged to a little girl with long dirty blond hair.
Polly glared at the digital microwave chronometer and wondered if time were standing still. It seemed to take so long to advance; she considered the possibility that the modern surrogate was dead. Appearance suggested so. The red dots which formed imperfect representations of real numbers defiantly blushed half-heartedly, as if the stupid machine knew that it didn’t have to prove itself, now being the only game in town.
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It took an eternity to soundlessly register one whole minute’s advance. She wished that there were a true timepiece in the room, complete with twelve numbers, three hands and miniscule clicking. She could be assured of its life by viewing and hearing the quickly moving second pointer announcing sixty moves per minute.
To abort the dead silence she drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, her drumsticks feeling the coldness provided by its glossy composite finish. “Composite of what?” she thought.
“Ice and junk?” She had spoken to her mother about this previously and was assured that it was “efficient,” meaning easy to clean. Polly suspected that another, perhaps more important consideration was that it was cheap; “economically priced” in current parlance. Polly could not tolerate the chill its feel provided and consequently wore long sleeves when dining there, even in July.
Despite the wan red digital display’s lack of interest, matching that of today’s early spring sun in intensity, she was impatient for her parents’ arrival. “They always manage to be early when I have to go somewhere I don’t want to go; like school and the dentist. But, now, when I’m anxious to get moving they take their sweet time.”
She wondered if they were purposely being perverse, when Mom and Dad entered the kitchen, laughing uproariously with
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their arms around each other. Surprised to see Polly already there they became subdued and used their hands to retie their bathrobes.
Polly was not in a cheerful mood, fixated on her desire to get going and escaping the cold, now intensified by her parents’
frivolity. She sternly said; “What’s so funny?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other, each hoping the other had a good reply. Neither volunteered and that led to another fit of laughter, this time more abbreviated. When decorum was restored Mom said; “Your father just said something funny.”
Polly replied; “I could use a good laugh. Tell me.”
Mom grimaced and said; “It’s got a whole context that would take forever to explain.”
Polly opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get any words out Dad came to his wife’s rescue by changing the subject and replied in a very businesslike tone; “So, my little one is up early today.”
Mom’s eyes opened widely as she looked at her husband. She started to laugh uncontrollably and almost doubled over with her hands on her knees.
Dad looked at Mom quizzically at first, then realized what she was laughing at. He put his left hand on his chest and started laughing too, shaking his head from side to side, as if to say; “That was an accident.”
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Polly now thought that she had an idea of the source of her parents’ good humor; completely unexplainable nonsense. She asked; “Are you both nuts?”
Without consulting their partner’s facial expressions, Mom and Dad, rapidly shook their heads “Yes,” both able to curtail their laughter, offering only the slightest hint of a stifled smile. They walked to the kitchen counter. Dad got the coffee machine going and Mom heated up some frozen “South Texas’ Finger Lickin’ Good Sausage and Eggs” frozen breakfasts in the microwave, which efficiently did what it was supposed to and ended with five beeps, its first declarations of the day.
Everyone ate silently and soon the trio was in Mom’s car on the way to the shelter; Mom driving, Dad reclining to her right and Polly, eyes beaming, excitedly on the edge of the wide back seat. Mom parked the Saab directly in front of the shelter and the group exited. Polly surveyed the area, wrinkled her nose at the gift shops and “potpourri” outlets in the strip mall and said; “What a strange place to keep dogs. I thought we’d be going somewhere that looked like a farm.”
Mom and Dad simultaneously shrugged. Dad adjusted the zipper of his cream corduroy jacket as he retorted; “Progress.
Just like that brainless microwave.” He paused to watch Polly’s reaction. Obtaining a giggle he decided to try something he had initially chosen to withhold; the touchy part of his agenda. He
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said; “Now, don’t say anything embarrassing when we get inside.
In fact, say as little as possible. We don’t want to accidentally insult anyone. Let me do the talking. People get confused when they think there are three decision makers; so let them think that it’s me.”
Polly calmly nodded her head, well aware from past experience that Dad had a big thing about external appearances.
She had grown up with this oddity and had found it merely that; an oddity. She knew that when push comes to shove she always got her way and didn’t mind playing his little game. However, Mom’s life was different. Mom wasn’t accustomed to hearing the thought so overtly spoken and had an aversion to playing the obedient little wifey in public. She glowered at Dad. When she was certain she had his attention, she deadpanned; “I guess you also think that applies to me.”
Dad knew his attempt at a small, reasoned subterfuge had touched a nerve. Mom stopped walking on the thin sidewalk in front of the pooch emporium’s huge glass front window and was looking at him with a face that displayed annoyance, apprehensiveness and amusement. He thought; “Uh oh. The three deadly A’s. And right in the middle of the mall in front of a merciless window. Visibility from every angle.” He too stopped walking.
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Polly continued a few more steps, but seeing that she had lost her entourage also stopped and looked back at the two, wondering exactly what their problem was. Her only concern was that she hoped that nothing had happened at the last minute that would foul up her getting a dog.
The last thing Dad wanted to do was have a public discussion of who was in charge right in the middle of town, being witnessed by local busybodies. He thought the best move he had available was to get inside as quickly as possible. If he was in a position where he would have to openly demonstrate his lack of total manly authority, it was preferable to have some semblance of privacy in the shelter. He held Mom’s forearm and with clenched teeth said under his breath; “For Christ’s sake. Do you have to start right here?”
Mom’s eyes widened as she pulled her forearm free and with full voice she said; “It wasn’t me who started.”
Their attention turned to a late model Chrysler parking right in front of them, despite having virtually unlimited options in the sparsely populated lot. It was Mr. and Mrs.
Rulestone from Camino De Lucia, the central participants in the neighborhood gossip mill. In their seventies they didn’t go out much, but when they did they happened to do it at just the right time. Mom and Dad considered them weird as Mr. Rulestone always had an unlit cigar in his mouth and a perpetual grin prompted by
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nothing discernible to anyone else. Mrs. Rulestone also had a constant expression. She wrinkled her nose as if she was smelling something foul, necessitating regular re-positioning of her tiny eyeglass frames. Between them, they weighed about 550
pounds, his girth slightly superior, or at least that’s the way it appeared in their loose nondescript clothes.
Dad sighed and tried to make a break for it. Thinking that it would take the porkers some time to elevate from their car, he took a few steps toward the shelter’s front door, hoping that Mom and Polly would follow. He could always say that he didn’t recognize the two rotundities because of their tinted windows.
But they both managed to move like NFL fullbacks and Mr.
Rulestone bellowed a cheery; “’Morning.”
Dad had a tiny pet peeve; the penchant of many locals to say ‘morning rather than the entirety of good morning. It didn’t seem as if they had so busy a day that it required the shortening of a proper greeting. Or perhaps they didn’t want it to be good. He lowly mumbled sarcasm, only audible to Polly;
“Thanks. I thought it was the so-and-so afternoon myself.”
Polly laughed and Mom decided to irk him more than she had already by un-customarily saying; “’Morning,” in a mock-cheery tone and a mini-smile which ended in a fraction of a second.
Mrs. Rulestone heightened the degree of wrinkle in her nose and said something containing sufficient volume, yet
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indecipherable. Its tone suggested the toleration of some kind of disgust. She adjusted her glasses while her eyes wildly fluttered.
Mr. Rulestone directed his conversation to Dad and grinning maniacally with the sun in his face said; “What was that?”
Expecting something like that, unflustered Dad said; “Good looking dogs in the place.” He pointed in their direction and added; “I was talking to Polly. A gracious good morning to you, sir. How are you this fine day?” Mom chuckled slightly. Dad thought he might be on a roll, so he continued; “Going to Nunzio’s Native American Chinese Imports?”
Mrs. Rulestone made an uglier than usual face and Mr.
Rulestone kept his grin, rolled the cigar around and said; “Yes, sir. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Dad said; “Then why did you park in front of the dog shelter?” No response came, other than a grin and a wrinkle.
Dad added; “Exercise?”
Mr. Rulestone took his wife by the forearm, said; “Off to Nunzio’s. Have a great day,” and commenced their fifty foot trek with a left stumble.
Mom and Dad weakly said; “You too,” poked each other and started laughing, the minor quibble about appearances put in its proper place by worse ones.
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Polly again didn’t understand her parents’ sense of humor.
This time a change from an impending storm to apparent sunshine also baffled her. She said; “Are you both nuts?”
Mom and Dad silently and energetically nodded “Yes,”
bobbing their heads up and down, as they opened the door and entered.
They walked directly to the caged dogs. Their first reaction was one of sympathy as each greeted them enthusiastically, some licking offered hands. They got over the sadness, realizing that they would be doing their helping part in taking one home. They got to Prince and unlike the others he paid them no attention. He was a bit annoyed at the rude disturbance, roused for a second, made a low plaintiff brief growl and slammed his head back down on the padded part of the cage floor.
Polly smiled and looked at her folks saying; ”Just like you, Dad. .......... He’s pretty.”
Dad nervously looked around the room to see who was within earshot.
Polly understood his discomfort and tried to assuage it by saying; “I only meant ‘just like you’ in the way he insists on sleeping when he needs to. You’re not pretty like him ...... I mean you’re not ugly ...... I mean ......”
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Dad retorted; “Shut up, Polly. But he’s not particularly friendly, like me.” Dad stuck his tongue out playfully to take the edge off “shut up.”
Polly shrugged in agreement, but kept watching the Dalmatian’s belly heave in and out displaying a healthy use of oxygen. She murmured; “We’ll see when he gets up.” Mom and Dad walked to the other cages thinking that something unexpected and un-envisioned might be noticed, directing them to the right dog.
Dad thought; “It would have to be sizable, but not overwhelming for my eighty pound daughter. It would have to be sufficiently aggressive to attack someone threatening to Polly, but willing to be obedient to her commands. It would be best if it had a strutting, confident appearance to keep potential predators at a distance. Bullies always seek out the ones which won’t fight back and avoid those which will. I had been told that by my father a long time ago and my experience confirmed that it was 100% true. I realize that the totality of my requirements is asking a lot from a “dumb” animal and that we might have to settle for something short of perfection. Huge revelation; name one thing that is perfect. Maybe death, but that’s irrelevant today; the possible subject of a PBS
philosophically disguised, sophistristic discussion show one might engage when totally depressed with nothing to do. In the moment’s requirement of practicality the dog my daughter
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requires must be big, but not overly so; aggressive, but not disobedient; confident, but not standoffish; co-operative, but not unable to act quickly; and I suppose most of all, very smart. How many “very smart” humans have I encountered, let alone a dog? Perhaps smart would make up for other deficiencies in the one assigned the job of being my daughter’s companion and protector. How do I gauge that? I didn’t prepare a test. I didn’t bring pencil and paper.”
Polly was still near Prince and started to reach her hand into his prison to pet him, when Debby yelled out; “Don’t do that! He’s unpredictable!” Dad snapped out of his contradictory and lengthy distillation attempt. Polly jumped back, startled by the loud voice. Mom quietly observed. Prince remained oblivious to the world. Debby scooted over efficiently and added; “He was a fighting dog. Though I have gotten a few reports that he is strangely co-operative at times, it’s best to be careful.”
Polly backed away, her eyes on the warrior. She looked for evidence of wounds and seeing none considered the possibility that Debby might be misinformed. It was either that or he was able to win every fight and manage to remain unscathed, the equivalent of a young Mohammed Ali. Of course, all she saw was external.
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Debby introduced herself and typical opening pleasantries were exchanged. When she asked what type of dog they wanted; Dad and Polly had more than a few words to say, the net result of which added up to “Superdog.” Mom was silent and made obviously sarcastic smiles whenever Debby looked her way. Debby was unfazed with the unreasonable requirements, as she found out through years of experience that was the answer the majority of the time.
Debby suggested that they take possible candidates out for walks, which the family spent the next hour and a half doing.
Though they liked them all none seemed close to fitting the bill. In their desire to please and be obedient it seemed as if they had simultaneously lost their sense of aggression and curiosity. Each dog was content to remain at the leash holder’s side and despite seeing rabbits, squirrels and other dogs, acted as if they wore blinders. Mom and Dad knew that this docile behavior could be the result of prolonged abuse, but each time the thought crossed their minds they did their best to get it out quickly, not wanting to visualize the possibilities. They always succeeded in converting the thought to another; the possibility of being trained to death; an improvement over abuse, but also no pretty picture. The most encouraging thought they could conjure up was the possibility that the dogs knew how to behave to please most people and did so to effect an
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adoption, then planned to gradually re-assert their individuality after going home. Polly just found them boring.
Since the dog had to be Polly’s guardian, Dad tried to determine if they had any instinct to protect her. First announcing his plan, he had Polly hold the leash as he pretended to attack her. Each dog watched the action as if it were another boring TV “reality show” unreality.
Everyone agreed that this wouldn’t do. While Mom and Dad spoke of other places they might try, Polly insisted on giving Prince the opportunity others had denied him. After they got the last dog back inside Polly got three unanimous objections, but didn’t care. She sat down on the floor of the shelter and announced that she was not going anywhere until she got to walk Prince. The pup had recuperated and was now awake, intently watching the human program, totally foreign to him, but interesting in its similarity to his own occasional displays of passive resistance. Most importantly he desperately needed someone to take him to the bathroom. He pawed at the cage door.
When Polly’s initial ploy was greeted by her being lifted and carried toward the exit, she used her socially-conscious-Daddy-supplied trump card and told him that if she didn’t get her walk with the Dalmatian she would tell the entire neighborhood, starting with the Rulestones, that he cooked and cleaned the house under Mom’s supervision.
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Up until now Mom had been quiet, not wanting it to appear to an outsider that she had anything to do with the household decision making process. But she couldn’t help making a small laugh and quickly stifled it. She decided that she should do her duty to protect her sensitive husband and said; “Oh Polly, where did you get that nonsense from?” She put her hand over her mouth to inadequately hide another chuckle. Dad shot her a look one normally reserves for surprise dog doo doo. Prince was near earning the distinction and wondered what all the inactivity was about. Debby stared at the group, not having a clue as to what would come next. Dad did another quick assessment of damage control. He was certain that one outsider had heard part of his delicate, partially truthful, but not for human consumption familial status and there was nothing he could do about that. He was shocked that Polly would go for the social throat as she did, especially when she had never previously shown any interest in the subject. He didn’t yet comprehend that it was precisely her disdain for “manners,” as practiced by adults, that allowed her to use their absurdities to her advantage. She had been taught that good manners reflect good sense, but found that the reality was that they were more often used as a weapon. In dire circumstances she wasn’t above gun slinging. Dad was surprised that she understood enough to anticipate the effectiveness of her ploy. He chuckled the way
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executives do when they get caught in a clear contradiction of a previous proclamation, as if the listener were too unsophisticated to glean the precise nuance of the cutting edge brilliance, but most importantly to Polly, he let go of her.
Polly showed a nasty grin and sat back down on the floor.
Debby thought it appropriate to come to the aid of the other adults in the room and said; “I can’t let you take him out. There is a fair chance that he’s dangerous and I don’t want to be sued for damages,” as she wondered who would be the first person with whom she could discuss Mr. Thatcher’s amusing subservient proclivities.
Polly didn’t fully understand her stated objection, but considered that irrelevant. She angrily said; “So what are you going to do? Stop everyone from possibly adopting him and then have him euthanized? Why is he here?” Prince got on his hind legs, used his claws to scratch at his door and emitted a small yelp, as if to say; “Please take me out of here,” but only thinking in terms of the tree right outside the back door.
The situation was a clear impasse for all participants, each with a differing agenda, ridiculous because at the root of the whole messy affair was a commonly held goal of getting a homeless dog adopted. A wily conspirator could not have engineered a better plot than the natural forces of human nonsense had decreed mindlessly. Those involved stared
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nervously at each other, each hoping that the ball was in someone else’s court. Prince’s position was the simplest. He wished that the first set would soon be over, so that he could utilize the break for a very, very necessary side trip.
Scratch. Scratch. Whoosh. Blam. All eyes turned to the sound coming from the back door and they silently watched Marian walk in with Candide, a small terrier mix in tow. She put him back in his cage with small difficulty, then turned to see all eyes on her, as if they expected her to do something. She was amused and puzzled. She felt mindless and decided to oblige.
So she imitated Groucho Marx smoking an imaginary cigar and nasally said; “I wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would accept me, ” as she flaked off the make-believe ashes at eye level. The hush and gape persisted, so she joined the dumbfounded club and gawked back, with wide popping eyes. She then received polite laughter from Mom, Dad and Debby. Prince and Polly, not feeling the requirement of social correctness, continued to stare questioningly, not showing the slightest degree of appreciation. Marian looked at the group and saw that rather than tomorrow being Easter, it was silly season and acted accordingly. She shrugged her shoulders, extended her arms to each side and said; “What is this? The white version of ‘The Temptations?’ Choreography’s in sync, but it could use a bit more movement.” She used a mock baritone voice to sing; “I’ve
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got darkness on a sunny day. And when it’s warm outside December is on the way.” She grimaced and reflected for a second, then said; “Never mind. It’s still April, isn’t it?”
This time the audience didn’t feel obliged to make even polite displays of appreciation. Marian shrugged and said; “Okay, show me better.”
Polly pointed at Prince and yelled; “I want to walk that dog.”
Marian didn’t understand why that was a problem, but seeing that the little girl was upset became serious and said; “Okay, let’s go walk him.” Polly got back on her feet and proceeded to Prince’s cage. Mom, Dad and Debby all started talking at once, none saying anything of substance. Each stopped, extended their palms to the others and politely offered the floor, excusing themselves. They then proceeded to now stare at each other in open-mouthed flabbergasted silence. As the mesmerized trio admired the nearest available nostril hair, Marian put her long chain leash on Prince and went out the back door with Polly.
Prince pulled Marian to the nearest tree and breathed a sigh of relief as he deposited a year’s supply of fly food. He turned his head toward them as if to say; “That was a close one.
Someone should be paying better attention. Whew.” Marian gave Polly the handgrip and said; “Take him. He shouldn’t be too bad now.” The child took the reins and Prince moved on, often
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looking back to see if the little one was able to stay with him.
He saw that she wasn’t a lot bigger than he was. Of course, she was much taller on her hind legs, but he visualized her on all fours, thereby with only the slightest advantage.
He started out slowly; that is by his standards. She was required to move quickly to keep up, but she seemed to enjoy the challenge. When he felt the chain become taut he would ease up and look back to determine her status. He went directly to the ditch in hopes of a drink and swim, but Polly halted him at the water’s edge by squatting down and leaning back, yelling; “Stop.
Stop.” With minor difficulty Prince could have kept going, but he didn’t want to cause Polly to fall on her face. Still, he was exasperated at the denial of a wish he now thought standard.
He turned to her and made a brief guttural growl. Polly recalled what Debby said about him and became afraid. She turned wide-eyed to Marian, who calmly said; “Let him go in.”
She eased up and Prince entered the shallow muddy water, somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t as deep as it was on his previous dunks allowed by Marian. He went back and forth; Polly following him onshore with no small difficulty as the leash was stretched to its limit.
Marian saw the problem and told her young canine fan that the process would become easier with practice.
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Polly was trying not to be immersed as the temperature was only fifty degrees, yet Prince’s movements made her come close to going in head first. Each time she had to unwillingly jerk his neck to remain on shore. She asked Marian; “What am I doing wrong?”
Marian hesitated answering as she thought that in time Polly would find her own natural method of performing the delicate balancing act, but as Polly continued to seem concerned about her youthful expertise, she grudgingly said; “Well, for one thing try not to wrap the chain around his neck. When he goes right use your left and when he turns left use your right.
That will give him maximum leeway and you won’t have to worry about drowning. You’ll figure out the rest when you need to.
If you pay attention to him you’ll see that he’s sending signals.”
“What if I don’t like his signals?”
“Before, when you said; ‘Stop. Stop.’ he did just that.
He’ll understand the words now that they’ve been established.”
Marian was careful to use the word “understand” rather than
“obey.”
“That easy?”
“Yeah. As time goes by you’ll find more words he’ll understand.” Marian paused, hesitant to give her next thought, but decided that Polly would eventually surmise anyway. “I’ve
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been out with him a few times and he’s an unusually co-operative yet stubborn dog, if that makes any sense.”
It didn’t for now. Polly’s attention was drawn back to Prince as he was through with his lengthy frolic and was climbing the ditch bank. Prince intended to stay in the water a longer time, but thought it prudent to join the two females he was certain were talking about him. He didn’t want any misunderstandings so early in the trip and sought the opportunity to amend any incorrect notions. Instincts told him that women talking together without the company of a male was dangerous to all concerned. They might conclude that since he liked water that he was a swimmer, when this was not the truth at all. Though he was capable of doing a competent doggy paddle, he preferred keeping his feet on the ground, walking, the majority of the time and completing with a short swim. If he entered a three foot water level he would attempt to walk on it and consequently he thought he would more appropriately be termed a multitalented wader with a preference. While that might sound nitpicky to some it had significance to him. He thought that Polly did a pretty good job for a first effort, wagged his tail and looked up at her. She bent to pet him and he licked her face. In excitement he shook off, getting part of the spray on Polly. She giggled at the shock of it. It seemed
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to empty her head, yet at the same time she strangely felt completely awake.
However, her father, who apparently had recovered from his inertia was walking toward them and from the look on his face didn’t like the activity one little bit. Mom was at his side and didn’t advertise her thoughts one way or the other, as she was doing her best to refrain from publicly disagreeing with her closet liberated husband. She considered aping his sentiments, but realized that he might change his mind, or might have his mind changed for him by potent passing public perceptions, that change-resistant formidable social force, hereinafter referred to as PPPP, for the sake of brevity and because the sound seems appropriate.
A gentle western zephyr traumatized the still morning destroying the logic-inducing calm. Adequate strength was not provided to form dust devils. Rather the leaves scampered on the ground until some floated away in ditch water or the yet unseen river.
Dad walked quickly, getting ahead of Mom. Angrily, he called out in a demanding voice; “What’s going on here?”
Only audible to Polly and Prince, Marian muttered; “Jesus Christ. What does it look like?”
Polly didn’t know what he was referring to. So, in a questioning lilting voice she replied; “Walking Prince?”
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Mom said nothing and appeared as normal as she ever did.
Dad stepped up to Polly and yelled; “Don’t get smart with me, little girl. You know exactly ...........
Prince interrupted him with two loud barks and got between father and daughter.
Dad’s voice descended to a lower than usual volume and he finished his sentence; “what I mean,” his eyes on Prince’s fangs, who emitted a long low; “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
Polly gave Prince a tug and said; “Stop. Stop.” Prince showed reluctance, switching his gaze from Polly to Dad, again and again, but got quiet.
Dad backed up a few steps and his boldness returned. In a tone normally reserved for disobedient employees, he stated;
“It’s a bit cold and early in the day to have him getting you wet.” He emphasized the word “him” and at the same time waved his hand in Polly and Prince’s direction. Prince went right for it, mouth wide open and was unsuccessful in attaining his target only because Polly had shortened her grip on the leash, resulting in him going a bit to the left rather than directly at Dad. Polly screamed; “Stop. Stop.” Prince understood her words and reluctantly respected her wishes, but looked in her eyes as if to say; “Why?” He sat next to her feet and watched the seeming predator.
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Dad also understood the words and thought they were directed at him. He reluctantly respected her wishes, but looked in her eyes as if to say; “Why?” He remained on his feet and watched the seeming predator.
Mom broke a few seconds silence by saying; “He is very obedient.”
Now that the confrontation had subsided, Marian’s silly side resurfaced and she impassively queried; “To which one are you referring?”
Mom smirked and immediately wished she had not. Dad’s eyes alternated between the two adult females, wanting to laugh, but not feeling completely comfortable in doing so, his case of PPPP
rearing its ugly head. However, instead of standing there looking stupid and offended he skirted the issue. He pursued another line of thought that wasn’t really another line of thought and said; “He looks like a damn good guard dog. That’s what we want, right?” He scanned the audience for a reaction and though he could not detect any objections; the agreements were unenthusiastic.
The only one present who knew anything definitive about Prince didn’t understand the commentary and if he had, he was not inclined to converse with the enemy. Consequently there was silence and Dad offered a suggestion; “Why don’t we all walk with him a while. Maybe he’s the one.”
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The group took a few steps and Prince and Dad were paying more attention to each other than they did the ground. First Prince stumbled and then Dad did. Dad said; “Wait a minute. I want to try something. Polly, come over here and give me a cuddle and a big kiss.”
Polly thought that things were breaking in her direction and didn’t want to risk fouling it up by denying her Dad a very public display of affection. She cackled as she did what was asked of her in absurd, over-the-top enthusiasm and Prince curiously looked at both of them thinking; “Are you both nuts?”
Dad showed an intent Prince his right open hand. He turned his palm to the cloudless sky. Despite the sun’s early season reluctance to burn on all cylinders its effort was commendable, no sarcasm intended, as an actor past his prime well playing a role written for one much younger, a dearth of talented fledglings the sorrowful reason. He slowly moved his hand to Prince’s head and petted, first gently, then with more gusto.
Dad used a babyish voice to say; “What’s going on here, fella?”
Prince thought; “What’s going on here, fella?”
The group went down the flat dirt path. It seemed natural for Prince to be out in front as he was pulling Polly at a pace that challenged her ability to keep up with him and the others quickly saw that they would only serve as hindrances to the two main players. They found it heartwarming to see someone so
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openly and intently enjoying doing something. It served as a contrast to the blasé, self-anointed sophisticates they daily endured. No one except Prince had any idea of where they wanted to go anyway and they were interested to see the digressions which caught his interest. When Prince veered a bit toward the ditch, Dad said to Polly; “Can you try to keep him out of the water? It’s a bit too chilly.”
Polly shook her head and said; “I’ll try, but he’s used to it. It’ll be confusing to him if I stop him now.”
Dad grumbled a sound something like; “Grmmmmm,” and Prince happily purred; “Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.”
They walked on making a few minor expeditions into brush, led by the black and white one when he detected a scent worthy of closer investigation. At a momentary pause, as they watched Prince paw at and sniff the fur remains of a raccoon which coyotes had killed and eaten a while back Mom asked Marian;
“What do you know about this dog?”
Tempted to truthfully say; “Not much,” but deciding that would appear unfriendly, unproductive or evasive Marian retorted; “I’ve only walked with him a few brief times prior to today. I’m told he was a fighting dog, whatever that precisely means. It seems to me that almost all dogs will fight under the right circumstances. I’ve not had any real trouble with him.
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He seems to have a stubborn streak and at the same time is cooperative. Does that make any sense?”
Mom snorted and said; “Sure, I’m married.”
Dad liked that one. He smiled and nodded.
Prince preferred his furry find.
Polly didn’t quite understand Mom’s response and she again thought Marian contradictory, but didn’t wish to pursue either line of thought as she considered it more useful to catch her breath during the temporary pause.
Feeling well and in remission of his PPPP, Dad used the opportunity to play out one of his favorite fantasies; that of being a TV defense attorney. He thundered; “So, your honor I submit that there is no evidence of my client having fought with anyone. Is that correct?” He looked at the nearby faces. He received no argument, but did see some wrinkled brows. He continued; “No scars? ...... No dead bodies? ...... No broken limbs? ...... No maimed? ...... No hospital reports? ...... No testimony? ...... Your honor, I submit that the prosecution has not made any case at all and that you have no other choice than to find my client not guilty.” He grandly bowed.
With the exception of the one with his face in the fur everyone was staring at Dad. Mom finally said; “He tried to attack you, counselor.”
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Dad promptly and confidently replied; “But I didn’t testify, oh ye of little legal knowledge.”
Marian was glad to see that Dad was playing her game. She flicked the imaginary ashes from her imaginary cigar and said;
“When the magic duck comes down you’ll get the final question.
Whatever it is I’m agin it.”
Mom freaked out. The possible imminent finality sounded ominous and she thought of the literary apocalypse. She mock-screamed; “Fire! Fire! Fire everywhere! Books burning!
Inconsequential TV everywhere! I repent! Please forgive me!”
She fell to the ground back up and covered the front of her head with her hands. Dad got next to her also hiding his expression and proceeded to imprecisely mumble something only Mom could hear.
Marian laughed as she said; “Now for fifty bucks and a trip to Hackensack; what is the capital of Geneva?”
It was a moment of perfect clarity. Polly considered saying; “Are you all nuts?” but thought it obviously trite.
They all were unambiguously from Jupiter. Prince reserved judgment thinking canine-logically that more evidence was required. At the very least it would buy him more time for his pleasant pursuit.
A dark Spanish traveler became visible. He was a few hundred feet to the east with the sun in his face, wearing huge
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shades which totally obscured his eyes, if in fact he did have eyes. His brown, short haired hound paralleled his steps, or vice-versa. Mom and Dad stood and brushed off the dirt that the other had accumulated, Dad’s PPPP ignited by the possible view of a stranger. Marian sighed visibly and blinked her eyes a few times in an attempt to restore the proper perspective. Prince seemed to get anxious and he slowly started walking toward the stranger in a semi-crouch, ready to spring. Polly wasn’t happy with his position but walked behind him sluggishly. She thought that a significant test might be coming.
As they got closer the stranger called out; “Who is this?”
“I’m Polly and this is Prince.” She noticed his knee high well used leather boots. “Who are you?”
“Emanuel Cortez.” He laughed and Polly didn’t understand why.
Polly said; “This is a new dog for me and I’m not sure what he’s going to do.”
“He should do what you tell him.”
Polly thought; “One of those,” and attempted to turn Prince around to avoid any possible conflict. He would have none of it and continued on in his crouched posture, eyes intently on the other dog. When they were fifty feet apart and on a collision course Polly said; “Is your dog friendly?”
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Cortez adjusted his deep blue woolen skull cap, stroked his long black beard, continued his laughing demeanor and said;
“Pioneer is friendly if I tell him to be. He’ll also attack if I give the right signal. He likes a good fight.”
Polly decided that Cortez’ laughing demeanor was feigned and did some faking of her own. She said; “Prince was bred as a fighting dog and he hasn’t lost yet. I wish I could better control him.”
Cortez removed Pioneer’s leash and the dog ran right for Prince and Polly. Polly didn’t see any other option and released Prince. The two dogs met leaping with drooling mouths opened. They glanced off each other retaining their balance.
Without any difficulty Prince faked right and went left burying his teeth in Pioneer’s neck. He violently twisted his head and Pioneer fell to the ground with Prince straddling him, biting down as hard as he could.
Cortez yelled; “Get that dog. Get that dog.”
Polly thought that Cortez should have kept his own dog in tow and didn’t like his commanding tone instructing her to fix a problem he had caused. On the other hand she really didn’t want to see a bloody dead dog and she didn’t want Prince to get into any trouble. She grabbed Prince’s collar and said; “Stop.
Stop.” Incredulously Prince looked into her eyes and she again said; “Stop. Stop.” Prince wished she would make up her mind
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once and for all. It’s not wise to fight, then not fight as who knows what comes next. But when he saw the worry on her face he let go of Pioneer’s neck and moved away keeping an eye on the challenger.
The rest of Polly’s entourage was right at the scene and watched Pioneer slowly stand and sheepishly allow his master to replace his leash. He was bleeding, but far from profusely.
Emanuel shook his head and said; “I think I have damages.”
Dad said; “Your dog attacked mine. You’re lucky you still have a dog.” Polly patted Prince’s confused head when she heard her father call Prince “mine.”
Emanuel rubbed the back of his neck and said; “I don’t know man. I’ve got vet bills and mental considerations. This is the service dog for me. I’m blind and appear very sympathetic in court.”
Dad said; “You don’t look blind to me.”
Cortez removed his gigantic shades, showed two squinty eyes and said; “Legally, I am. As to the events, it’s your word against mine.”
Marian popped in irately saying; “I’m a witness. I don’t even know these people. I saw you instruct your dog to attack theirs. They should take you to court for something.”
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Emanuel shrugged and continued on with his bleeding dog.
Dad felt like getting in one more warning to the scam artist and yelled; “Next time I’ll let my dog kill yours.”
Cortez didn’t turn around, silently again shrugging his shoulders, on his way back where he came from, without the gold.
Everyone got on their knees near Prince and petted him all over, telling him what a great dog he is. Prince understood and appreciated what they were trying to communicate, but couldn’t figure out what exactly they were so thrilled about. He thought; “First they tell me to get the invader and then they tell me to let him go. Are they nuts? Maybe. But, I’m glad that they like me. I’ll try to figure out why. It seems like they want me to see grays. Don’t they know that my canine vision limits me to black and white?”
As Dad finished petting a happy but bewildered Prince, he called out; “That’s my puppy.” He was both happy with Prince’s behavior and desirous of showing Marian that he was a decision maker.
Polly quickly said; “He’s my puppy.”
Mom added; “Mine too.”
It was obvious to the family and Marian that they’d be taking Prince home with them and the group thought that the purpose of the trial walk was over. For some illogical reason they assumed that Prince knew the adoption game and would be
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happy to be on his way to a home of his own. They also wanted to get him settled into his new surroundings before nightfall, anticipating some unforeseen difficulty. The group walked a short distance to the highway. Now accustomed to the harmless demons Prince wanted to pass through and get into the woods.
Mom, Dad and Polly didn’t think the area looked inviting and wanted to turn back. Prince felt the leash tighten and he looked back puzzled. “This can’t be,” he thought. “When I didn’t want to go through here Marian insisted that I should.
Now that I want to do it they say no. What’s up? Maybe they made a mistake.” He tried to again move and felt the tight collar. Polly said; “Stop. Stop.” Prince thought; “Signal clear as a bell. But, I want to get into the woods and I’m in no rush to return to my cage.” Polly tried to lead him back and he sat down. She cajoled; “C’mon Prince, time to go home.” He gave her an indignant look that said; “Don’t you dare pull me.
You said you liked me.”
Mom said; “Uh oh.”
Dad grabbed the leash and jerked it. Prince remained stationary and made a low growl.
Dad said; “Uh oh.”
Countless thoughts raced through Polly’s mind as she started to envision the loss of something she had seconds prior taken for granted. Her eyes widened in disappointment.
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Marian dismissively said; “What is everyone getting so excited about? I’ve told you that he can be strangely stubborn and cooperative at the same time. I’ve already had success with this. We should all sit down and show him that we can be as stubborn as he is.” She sat near Prince and rubbed his back.
Mom looked at Dad and Polly, shrugged, raised her eyebrows and sat, quickly joined by the rest of the family.
Prince thought; “Looks familiar. I’m glad they’re not trying to force me. It must be time to go back. I’ll make them happy, but I’ll do it slowly. Besides, I’m hungry anyway.” He rose and waited for the others to also do so. When everyone was on their feet he walked at half speed taking a better look at his surroundings than he had previously. He was neither happy nor sad. He felt gray. He was so slow by the standards to which he had accustomed his human friends that they led him most of the way, seemingly trading the front position.
They got him inside through the front door and he turned toward his cage. He was surprised Polly led him in another direction; toward Debby at her desk holding a telephone to one ear. Prince was resigned and curious. He shrugged and thought;
“I’ve come this far. I may as well go the rest of the way as she chooses.” They heard Debby say; “Yeah, really. That’s what happened. I’m not kidding. Oh. Listen; I’ve got to go. I’ll tell you more later.” Dad winced and the PPPP symptoms appeared
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on his face; false certitude, steely forced smile and an intent challenging gaze into the happening witness’s blinking eyes.
In a conscious attempt to “correct” any “misperceptions” he confidently said; “I’ve decided to take this dog.” He pretended to have possibly misspoken by affecting a movement reminiscent of the time Polly thought it the height of hilarity to put ice cubes down his back. He surveyed the expressions surrounding him. He couldn’t detect any reaction at all. He cleared his throat and re-stated; “I should say that we’ve decided to take this dog.” He chuckled and heard the slightest hint of a collective groan. He realized that by saying “we’ve” that could give Debby the impression that Marian was part of the decision making process. He started a second correcting statement to the original contrived announcement. “I should say that excepting Marian ...... “
Debby cut to the chase and said; “Great, I’m glad you want to take him,” and proceeded to retrieve documents from her lower desk drawer. The group made a faint sigh of relief, excepting Prince, who sat still, eyeing one human and then the other. He wondered what was up.
While the legal proceeding proceeded Marian told Polly that she could keep the double length chain that was in the little one’s hand saying; “He needs a lot of space.” She knelt down and cuddled Prince, saying; “I know you can be a good boy.
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Trust her.” She elevated and walked out the front door with the slightest hint of a smiling tear.
After papers were signed, the family, Polly fearlessly on the leash, led Prince to the front door. He was again surprised at the agenda, but at this point was beginning to enjoy the unexpected wonders bestowed on him and jauntily followed her guidance.
That is until she led him to the stationary black demon and Mom opened one of its doors, sliding into the belly of the beast. Other doors were opened; Dad sliding in opposite Mom.
Polly pulled his leash toward her opened door encouraging him to hop in. Prince thought; “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s a monster!” He looked up at Polly and shook his head “no.”
Having already had some experience with his balkiness she laughed out loud and said; “Come on. It won’t kill you.” He thought; “I don’t want to be part of a monster.” She saw that he was still uncertain and climbed into the plushy backseat.
She rubbed the seat the same way she petted him and smiled, saying; “Oh, come on.” Prince did some quick thinking. He was prepared to go back into his tiny cage and now he was being offered the opportunity to enter a larger cage; one point for the monster. The plushy prison seat was a large improvement over the metal bars of his cage; two points for the monster. He would have company he liked; three points for the monster. He
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realized that the only thing bothering him was his own negative first impression of the noisy monsters seen on the highway. He could dismiss that as a misconception, as he had already seen that they meant him no harm. He would have to think of a new word to substitute for monster. But, no doubt, if he had that impression others did too. He didn’t dwell on that suspicion long, immediately thinking; “Who cares?”
He hopped in and licked Polly’s face. The family drove home, with Prince’s face out the window, tongue hanging, marveling at the plethora of pretty panoramas.
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