Bobby D. Lux - Dog Duty (20 page)

“There’s been a new, and some say unorthodox, cat who has created a reputation for himself at the track in recent weeks and has fared especially well in the tenth. Any thoughts on this Clay’s Pigeon?”

Ernie nudged me. “Hey Fritz, you need to see this cat over here.”

“Ernie, if you can’t control yourself here,” I said, “maybe you should wait outside.”

“You need to back off, man,” Ernie said. “Would you just listen and follow me. Nipper found something.”

“There you have it,” Sadie said
, in the background. “A confident and ready Willow eager to get her paws on the track once more regardless of her competition. This has been Sadie-Jane, live from the races.”

Ernie led me down the row of racers who were all stretching and limbering up for the race. Nipper waited for us down the row; he stopped me a few feet away from the end cat, out of its eye sight.

“Take a peek,” Nipper said. “Don’t let him see you.”

“Oh my,” I said.

“Yeah,” Nipper said, “if anyone knows a lousy costume, it’s me.”

The cat at the end was larger than the others and kept its face hidden under a book. Its ears were too long to begin with and were pinned up straight. I saw the zipper to its fully encompassing cat fur coat end below its chin.

“It’s his sidekick,” I said.

“Who? Clay’s?” Nipper said. I nodded. “So that’s how he wins. He cheats.”

“We have to do something to stop him, don’t we?” Ernie said.

I looked up to the clock above the pens; there were only a few minutes left until the start of the race. I had an idea. It made as much sense then as it does now. I gestured for Nipper and Ernie to come close.

“Nipper, you see that closet over there?” I said. “I want you and Ernie to get in there. You have two minutes to get Ernie looking like cat. Whatever you can find, make it work.”

“Umm, and then what?” Ernie said.

“Isn’t it clear?” Nipper said, with a tinge of glee. “You’re racing those cats over there.”

“I can’t do that,” Ernie said.

“Relax,” I said. “You’re not racing to win. I just need you to stay close to Scamper. You can do that, can’t you?”

“He’s a Jack Russell, isn’t he?” Ernie said. “They haven’t made one of those yet I can’t chase down.”

“How is he getting into the race?” Nipper said.

“Leave that to me,” I said. “You guys better hurry. Get going.”

The two of them split towards the service closet. I went to sit behind a rusted rack of old race forms near the bathroom. Sadie-Jane was on the other side of the rack. She couldn’t see me from her side.

“Excuse me,” I said
, over her shoulder. I lowered down and deepened my voice to a whisper. “Don’t look back at me. You’ve heard about all the performance enhancers that are being thrown around this track, haven’t you?”

“No,” she said. She started to turn around.

“I said don’t move. I’m risking a lot to talk to you right now. I have it on good word that the cat in pen six is on a cycle of felineondrineoxide right now.”

“Felineo… What?” Sadie said

“It’s a super powerful strain that’s brand new and nearly untraceable. There’s your scoop. Make haste.” I turned the corner and vanished into the male restroom and took position. I watched from there as Sadie stormed over to pen six and tried to get everyone on the record. Of course the cat denied everything and called Sadie a liar and a hack journalist.

One thing to note about cats, they’re as moody and emotional of a creature as any I’ve ever encountered. They’ll hold a grudge for a lifetime. Once you get on their bad side, there’s no going back. And poor Sadie, so blinded by the thrill of breaking a big story, well, the cat became so irate that he jumped the wall and went after her. It took a dozen track officials to pull the cat off and send the clawing offender back to the locker room. Don’t worry about Sadie. They were only minor scratches.

“Did you see that?” a Dalmatian said, on his way into the bathroom.

“You can neve
r trust a cat, can you?” I said, as I went the out to the main stands where Nipper was already out waiting in the center of the third row.

“So?” I said. Nipper was perfectly and unnaturally still like someone so clearly guilty.

“It’s good,” Nipper said, opening his mouth just enough to snap out the words as quickly as he could. “I can’t help but think we just broke a lot of laws.”

“You know why Cat Racing is so popular?” I said. “It’s because while there are rules, the thing is, no one really cares too much about them. And pretty much, this whole thing is illegal. It’s like the bone lenders. There’s no one to regulate this stuff, so of all the supposed laws you’re worried about? Basically, they don’t exist. No rules and dogs? No one bats a
n eye at that.”

“What if they find out what we did?”

“What if they do? What’s the worst that could happen? You think we’re the first people to exert some outside influence in a race where there’s money to be made with the gamblers? Nipper, if there was a race today where someone wasn’t trying something suspicious, well, that would be suspicious. And besides, it’s been a long time since a dog was killed for fixing a race or two.”

“Killed?”

“And besides all of that,” I said, concluding, “take a look around here. You have a bunch of dopes with their noses buried in racing programs who are picking ripped tickets up off the ground looking for a dropped fortune. A bunch of malnourished jerks who only bark up until the moment they start coughing up years of tobacco and hooch. I mean, do you see anyone around here who looks like they’d be able to do anything even if they thought you cost them their last bone?”

Nipper looked
around. The more he scanned the mutts walking around, the more I could see him begin to relax. And then he looked nonchalantly towards the top of the bleachers; the cheap seats. He froze.

“Yeah,” he said. “That guy up there.”

“What guy? Let me-” It was Clay. He sat alone in the last row at the very top of the stands like an eclipse. No one else was even close to his vicinity, and that’s saying something because the top seats at the track are among the best if you want to actually watch the race instead of yelling at the cats, which Ernie says is nearly as fun as betting on them.

Say what you will about the decision making skills of perennial gamblers, but even they knew to keep their distance from t
he big guy in the good seats. He hadn’t seen us and looked as if he couldn’t be bothered by the goings on of mere track hounds. His eyes were trained on the track. No program. No snacks. No hooch.

“Attention, patrons of Chester A. Arthur Cat Track, may I have your attention
for an update regarding the tenth race?” the Public Address Announcer said, interrupting the goings on at the track with a screech in the speakers that made all of us wince, except Clay, who’s face compressed into focus at the announcement. “We have just been informed of a last-minute scratch in the tenth race. It seems that Parrot’s Foe has been indefinitely suspended by the Feline Racing Association for undisclosed actions unbecoming a racing professional. I have also just been informed that we will have a replacement in the race by the name of… Let’s see here, uh, it uh looks like, oh, here it is. Replacing Parrot’s Foe in the tenth race will be a newcomer to the track, a four-year-old male…
Mutt?
Wait that must be a typo, so we’ll just say he’s a four-year-old, um, they probably meant to say Manx, likely feral, who goes by the handle… Saucy’s Hero. Again, Parrot’s Foe out and Saucy’s Hero is in for the tenth race. Race starts in two minutes.”

Clay relaxed his face and resumed his post atop the stands as he intensely watched the setting like a general on the battlefield.

“That’s him,” I said.

“I know,” Nipper said. “Ernie’s in the race. He’s Saucy’s Hero. I came up with that. He didn’t like it, but we didn’t have time to argue.”

“No. That dog up there. The one you just saw. That’s him. That’s Clay.”

“Why didn’t you say he was part bulldozer?”

“Let’s not get melodramatic,” I said. “It’s the angle we’re at. You put anyone up there at the top and they’d look bigger.”

A Mastiff down on the inside of the track blew a trumpeter’s call and the cats made their way to the track. Willow was out front. She was followed by two other lean wirehairs, then Scamper, who lay low and ducked behind the others as much as possible. A couple more racers entered and then it was Ernie who brought up the caboose of this train. He was covered with dirty mop tops over his body and head. He walked slowly to keep them balanced. Broom thistles stuck into hastily chewed gum that was plastered onto either side of Ernie’s face gave the illusion of cat whiskers. While the cat next to Scamper engaged in a last-minute stretch, Ernie took its place in the starting gate.

“Hey,” the cat said. “You’re in my spot.”

“No,” Ernie said. “I’m in
my
spot. You see how that works. There’s one open at the end. Take that one.”

“That’s not how it work
s,” the cat said, as a track official blew his whistle and yelled at the cat to take his place in what would have been Ernie’s outside gate.

“Go up there,” I said
, to Nipper.

“By that thing?” Nipper said.

“If I go and he sees me, our plan is up.”

“What exactly is our plan again? I thought you wanted to get him. Well, there he is. Who cares about the other one racing? You can go arrest him now. Aren’t you going to arrest him?”

“It’s not that easy,” I said.

“Hey Fritz, look I’d be afraid of him too. I
am
afraid of that dog.”

“Who says I’m afraid of him?” I said.

“You’re not even looking at him,” Nipper said. “I don’t blame you.”

“Go up there,” I said. “He doesn’t know you from anyone else here.”

“Me? Can’t you go undercover or something? Isn’t that how the cops do it?”

“I go up there and there will be a fight,” I said. “I’ll be at a disadvantage because he has the high ground. When that happens, and it will, because as you know, he and I have fought once already, so when that happens, can I count on you to jump in and to get my back at a split second’s notice? Can I do that, Nipper? Can I count on you in that moment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you can count on me. Trust me; he’s not going to make a scene over someone he’s never seen before. And no, I’m not afraid.”

“Fine,” Nipper said, as he begrudgingly took baby steps up the bleachers towards Clay. I kept my back to them and watched Ernie while training my ears towards Nipper and Clay. All the cats were harnessed into the starting gate except one who was batting a mud ball around.

“You ever get nervous?” Ernie said
, to Scamper.

“Shut up,” Scamper said. “I’m concentrating.”

“It’s my first race. Any tips for how to get started?”

“What did I just tell you? Oh my goodness, what kind of cat are you?”

“I don’t know. A fast one?”

“You’re the ugliest looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you should find yourself a mirror, pal,” Ernie said.

“Quiet down!” the Track Official said
, to both of them. The official made a final walk of the starting gate, having flung the mud playing cat off into its gate with a crash.

Nipper stopped three rows short of Clay and sat less than five dog widths off to Clay’s left; much closer than I’d expected him to go.

“Hello,” Nipper said, looking over his shoulder to Clay. “Who’s your bones on?”

“Do I know you?” Clay said.

“Me? Who? No. And you? Let me think. Eh, I don’t know. I would think I’d remember if I met someone, you know, as uh, you know, with your presence and the voice, that voice, still echoing in my ears…  So, no, I don’t think you know me. At least for sure I know for a fact that I do not know you, Mister… What’s your name?”

The starting bell rang. The gates sprung open with a metallic snap. The cats hurdled out and chased the giant ball of stringy yarn on a long pole racing in front of them.

“And they’re off,” the Public Address Announcer said, barking through the speakers.

“Come on, Ern– I mean, Saucy’s Hero,” Nipper
said, shouting. Some of his excitement was that it gave him a reason to turn away from Clay. Out on the gate, Ernie kept up with the pack. Willow pulled out to an early lead. Above me, Nipper held his ground. And there I was in between them doing absolutely nothing.

Nipper was right. I was a coward.

Within the span of a few minutes, I had talked two dogs into risking their health and their home to fight my battle. They even trusted me that I was still looking out for them. I turned over my shoulder and made eye contact with Nipper. He winked and nodded at me because he was holding up his end of the plan. His confidence rose as each moment ticked away and he wasn’t getting mauled by a dog that I should’ve kept him as far away from as I could.

“As they begin the first turn, to no one’s surprise, Willow has taken the early lead
,” the Public Address Announcer said, “while Clay’s Pigeon and Saucy’s Hero are threatening to break ahead of the pack of these wild racing cats.