Bobby D. Lux - Dog Duty (21 page)

“Wait for me,” Ernie
said, yelling ahead to Scamper.

“Doesn’t work that way, stupid,” Scamper
said, firing back. Ernie pushed forward. His head was only inches behind Scamper’s tail. As the first turn straightened out, Scamper flicked his leg out in an attempt to wing a cheap shot across Ernie’s face.

“Do that again, and I’ll take it home for dinner,” Ernie said.

“You’ll try,” Scamper said.

“Heck of race so far, huh?” Nipper said
, as he tried to engage a non-responsive Clay. “I said it’s a great race, isn’t it?”
Stop it, Nipper.
“Who’s your money on, pal? Me, I like that weird looking one. Almost doesn’t even look like a cat. That one right-” Clay’s head pivoted on its axis like a heat-seeking cruise missile aimed squarely at Nipper. Nipper stopped cold. Clay’s chest expanded out at least a full foot with an inhale of pure fury. “Like I was saying, good race. Never mind me. I’m going to stop talking. Probably forever actually.”

“On the straightaway,” the Public Address Announcer said, “it’s Willow pulling away with only two cats still hoping to make a go at the champ.”

“Hey Willow,” Scamper said, neck-and-neck with Ernie, both of them only a foot away from a focused Willow. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll start to slow down on the next turn.”

“Not a chance, loser,
” Willow said, hissing back at them.

“You’ve got about a minute to change your mind, cat. And if you don’t and you win this thing, you’ll have a very angry Rottweiler waiting for you in the back when no one is around.”

“So that’s how you do it!” Ernie said.

“Do what?” Scamper said.

“Would you two shut up and lose with some dignity still intact,” Willow said, punctuating her missive with a kick of speed as they rounded the second turn.

“You’ll regret this
,” Scamper said, pounding his paws into the dirt as he tried to keep up with the much faster Willow. Ernie stayed right there step-for-step with Scamper. A slight stumble caused Ernie’s makeshift mop top on his head to shift off to the side. It blocked his sight and caused him to bump Scamper on the outside. “Watch it, jerk. Do it again and that Rottweiler will be waiting for you too.”

“I got news for you,” Ernie said. “We know all about you and that Rottweiler.”

“What? Who are you? And what is wrong with your head?”

“On the final turn,” the Public Address Announcer said, “it’s Willow with a growing lead on the inside of the track. Clay’s Pigeon and Saucy’s Hero, the late-minute scratch, are behind Willow and ahead of the rest of the pack. There looks to be some roughhousing going on as the cats make the turn. Keep it clean out there, you stinking cats.”

The crowd noise picked up as the cats approached the finish line. I focused my ears on Nipper, though I was positive his attempts at conversation were all but finished.
Come on, Fritz. Do something. Nipper’s right. What are you waiting for? He’s right there. He’s distracted. You have one more charge in that body, don’t you?

But all I needed was for my leg to buckle as I hopped the bleachers. Then what? I get mauled, get tossed back into an ambulance, back to the hospital, back to backyard at Officer Hart’s house. Or worse. 

The nubs and splinters from the bleachers stuck into my legs and tail. They pinched and stabbed me, like they were daring me to get up.
What do you got, cop?
You know this bench isn’t comfortable. It’s not designed to be. At least stand up and watch the race, the splinters teased, because you’re the only one here who is still sitting down. You’re afraid he’s going to see you, is that it?

You held your own the first time you fought him. Or was that how you chose to remember it? It was the other one who bit you from behind. Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t done that, right? Oh, now wait a second my friend, why are you even asking that kind of question? A cop doesn’t say “who knows?” He knows. A cop knows that he’s taking the criminal down. There’s none of this
maybe
stuff going on.

Maybe you’d forgotten how surprisingly strong he felt as he pushed you and pinned you on the asphalt. You didn’t forget how tight his bite was and how you felt him trying to finish you with that bite. There was no playing and there was no holding back. You knew in that moment that he was squeezing until your lights went out.

Do you remember not being able to get up when you wanted to? Do you remember that feeling of complete powerlessness for the first time in your life? How about the realization that another dog had absolute control over the rest of your life? Does knowing in your gut that you were seconds away from your final breath and that you had no choice in the matter haunt you? It’s crippling isn’t it?

But hey, you know all about crippling. There’s no need to waste our time on that. You know crippled. You’ve known crippled since that night. Y
ou’ve acted like every step didn’t hurt. Most of them don’t, but that one, that one out of however many steps you take in a day; it could be the first one, the last, or somewhere in the middle. That one step is waiting to awaken; the one that reminded you that you’re weak.

Every time you
stepped and the pain didn’t appear, there was no relief because you we’re still waiting for it. Waited on the pain. The pain that you knew was there. The pain that wouldn’t go away. You wanted to scream at it and beg to know what it was waiting for and to just show up for good already. Then again, it wouldn’t be pain if it wasn’t torturing you. Worst of all, you knew damn well that if you tempted it enough times, it might’ve taken you up and showed up and stayed for good.

But then you figured that it might as well have hurt with every pace, every breath, and every moment because it was there with every thought anyway. Whether the pain terrorized your leg or not, it had the entirety of you in its clutches. And if you couldn’t beat Clay when your body wasn’t letting you down, what was going to happen when it was? You knew what would happen.

I remained seated and invisible. In a moment of total relief, I felt nothing.

Out on
the track, Ernie was as alive as he’d ever been. He was running for his life out there under some misguided obligation to me, a dog he barely knew. Nipper was alive too. He was up there, in way over his head, but he was alive. He was excited. He was scared. His senses fired on all synapses. His heart pounded and he was as ready as he could be, regardless of the outcome. To a blind eye, I was doing the exact same thing as Nipper was. We both sat on a bleacher and watched a cat race, but we might as well have been on opposite sides of the planet.

“Last warning, Willow,” Scamper
said, hollering out down on the track.

“Now’s as good
of a time as any,” Ernie said, and with a whip of his neck, Ernie flung the mop top into the Scamper’s face. Scamper stumbled and nearly lost his footing. The mop head hung over his nose like a long mustache. “I’ve never liked bullies!”

“Y
ou’re not a cat,” Scamper said, ramming into Ernie as they came out of the final turn, biting at Ernie’s face. “Let me see those whiskers.”

“And here they come into the homestretch,” the Public Address Announcer yelled. “Leading the way is Willow with Clay’s Pigeon and Saucy’s Hero engaged in a bitter war of attrition. From my vantage point, it looks like they’re trying to bite at one another. Something looks wrong on Saucy’s Hero, like part of his head is missing and is hanging off of the nose of Clay’s Pigeon. This has to be one of the craziest races and finishes we’ve ever seen at the track. These two cats surely have some bad blood between the two of them. Look at them battle each other like a pair of gladiators. And you know what we dogs say about a good cat fight: if there’s no winner left standing… We all win!”

The crowd roared as Ernie leaned down and got a glancing bite on Scamper’s arm, tripping him up. As Scamper went down in the mud, he sunk his teeth into Ernie’s tail, and sent them both crashing into the guard railing. The dirt flew into the air around them like a tornado. By the time it became clear enough to make anything out, Ernie had Scamper mounted. As Ernie went in for the bite, he looked down the track at the approaching tsunami.

Ka-Boom!

“Oh my, there’s a ten-cat pile up on the track. The rest of the pack just slammed into Pigeon and Hero. What a terrible sound. Listen to those cats screech and hiss. It’s an explosion of fur, but look, there’s Willow crossing the finish line, the only cat not caught up in the fray.”

The pandemonium spread to the stands. Dogs howled and barked at the track as the officials and security guards restrained the patrons from charging over the fence onto the field. Dogs bit and pawed at anything they could: the bench, the fence, a random dog next to them. Clay stood and paced back-and-forth on the top of the bleachers, knowing that he was the target of this melee, but not sure why or who was coming for him. The only thing he could pinpoint was the strange dog sitting too close to him.

“Who are you?” Clay
demanded.

“I’m not a cop, that’s for sure,” Nipper said.

Then our eyes locked. Clay looked down on me while my back was to him and I sheepishly peeked over my shoulder. I saw the contempt and pity he had for me.

“Well, well, well,” he
said, snickering at me. “Look who it is.”

The cats on the track shook off the dirt and collectively got back to their feet. Scamper was gone, having taken the opportunity to vanish into the melee. Ernie’s shoddy, makeshift costume was also a casualty of the crash. He went around in circles looking for Scamper, unaware that the cats had surrounded him.

“He’s a dog!” one of them said. “Cheater!”

“He could’ve have gotten us killed.”

“Wait a second,” Ernie said, as he realized he was outnumbered nine-to-one. “I was trying to help. The other dog was cheating. I’m one of the good guys. I was stopping him until you all crashed into us.”

“There’s no such thing as a good dog,” one cat said.

“You didn’t stop
him
,” another cat said. “You stopped all of
us
.”

They unsheathed their claws and pounced on Ernie. They swiped at any part of him they could like a swarm of piranhas incited by a drop of blood.

“This must be your puppy,” Clay said, referring to Nipper. Neither of us said anything back. “Awww, how cute, Fritz. You have a little lackey to do your dirty work. And let me guess, that dog out there on the track that has his paws full with those cats at the moment is yours too? Ooh, that one’s gonna sting. They’re really tearing him apart.”

“Ernie!” Nipper said, as h
e sprung to his feet and pushed his way through the rioting dogs to the fence then jumping over it to help Ernie on the field.

“Fritz,” Clay said, coming
down the steps towards me at a deliberate pace, “I was looking forward to the day when I’d see you again, but now you just had to go and ruin it by being all pathetic and, dare I say, a sorry sack of what used to be a dog. Is this how you envisioned it playing out? Now see, I was hoping to finish what I started, but it looks like I don’t have to. Maybe I gave you too much credit. I could tell you were old, but I didn’t think you were this old. By the looks of you, it’d be like mauling a mouse at this point. Where’s the fun in that? See you around, Fritz.”

Clay strutted right past me and waded into the riot. He disappeared into the chaos. The track officials used laser light pointers to distract the attacking cats and successfully wrangled them up into pens. They ignored Ernie and Nipper, who remained in the center of the track.

And I sat still on that rotten bench not doing a damn thing.

Within minutes, the races continued once more inside the stadium. As I walked out, the Public Address Announcer explained that there would be no refunds on the tenth race and that the results stood. Nipper and Ernie were forcibly escorted out of the stadium by a trio of Irish Setters, confirming for me a long standing rumor that it was indeed the Irish who pulled the strings behind the scenes at the cat races.

Their scratches and cuts weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. Beyond a long scratch on the top of Ernie’s head, nothing else was visible on him. Nipper had a few marks along his sidewall, but they’d both be fine. Ernie looked exhausted.

“What was that line you said about having my back?” Nipper said. “Because all I saw was me going up to Clay and then when Ernie was in trouble and needed help… Hey Ernie, did you see Fritz out there trying to peel any cats off of you?”

“Nope,” Ernie said. “Wait, you saw Clay? And you sent
Nipper
after him? That doesn’t make any sense. No offense, Nipper.”

“None taken, believe me,” Nipper said.

“I was undercover,” I said. “I thought I explained that already.”

“You weren’t undercover when Clay saw you,” Nipper said.

“What happened?” Ernie said.

“Nothing,” Nipper said.

“Aw, come on. Tell me.”

“I did,” Nipper said. “Nothing. Nothing happened. He didn’t do a thing.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“Oh, it’s not?” Nipper said. “Maybe you should explain what exactly it was you did because we both risked our necks out there and, now while I did see you sitting on that bench, clutching it like a puppy who caught his first stick, and I know Ernie and me aren’t big time cops, but if there was something else you were doing there, please enlighten us.”

“Was it your leg?” Ernie said.

“He was scared,” Nipper said.

“You guys don’t understand what I’m going through,” I said.

“What you’re going through?” Nipper said. “What
you’re
going through? What about what we’re going through? Ever since you’ve graced our lives with your presence, you know what we’ve gone through? Huh? We left our home because of you. We haven’t had a real meal in days because of you. I made a spectacle of myself in front of everyone I know because of you. Scarlet thinks I’m a fool because of you. We’ve been chasing criminals and hanging out with lowlifes because of you. Ernie was forced into a cat race and then attacked and you have me doing your dirty work, so no, I guess we don’t know what you’re going through.”

“We were so close,” Ernie said, as h
e sat down and struggled to reach his wounds to lick them. “I had that little jerk right where I wanted him. Little weasel. Man, one more second. So, what’s our next move? We got ‘em on the run.”

“There is no next time,” Nipper said. “We’re going home.”

“He’s right,” I said. “You guys should go back home.”

“But Fritz? Wait, Nipper. I know you’re mad, I mean, look, I’m mad too, but it’s not Fritz’ fault-”

“Yes it is,” Nipper said. “One hundred percent it is. You didn’t see him up there. I’m not exaggerating when I said that he did nothing. He just sat there and threw us to the wolves.”

“Go home,” I said. “I’m sorry. Get yourself cleaned up.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Ernie said.

“I don’t have a home,” I said. “I don’t deserve one.”

“You got us,” Ernie said.

“Nope,” I said. “I don’t have anybody.”

“Then if that’s how you feel,” Ernie said. “Nipper, let’s get out of here. Those Setters said we had a few minutes to disappear or they’d make us disappear for good.”

“Fine with me,” Nipper said. “Let’s go.”

“You sure you don’t want to go home?” Ernie said, as I turned around and walked away. I didn’t care where I went or where I ended up. I’d never left Grand City. Never in my life. I may have been on a call in a neighboring city or driven through one on a vehicle pursuit, but I’d gone to bed and woken up every day of my life in Grand City. Always in service for someone else.

I’d thought all along that I was Odysseus on my path back home. As the stadium
, as well as Nipper and Ernie, fell into the abyss of my periphery, I acknowledged what I had always known. I assumed that all I had to do on this quest was to avoid humans, not get run over, catch Clay, and then it would be done. I’d go back to my home. It had to end that way. It just had to.

My home, and the only home I ever wanted to go back to wasn’t in Officer Hart’s backyard.
Up until that exact second before Clay looked down at me, I thought Grand City P.D. would take me back. They’d see the error of their ways and would welcome me back to my kennel. I would pick up right where I’d left off. Once they all saw how I’d brought down Clay, they’d know that they had acted in haste and that nothing was wrong with me and that I was better than ever; better than any other dog they had chomping at the bit in training. That was my home and that’s where I was going.

Then with no warning and in the wag of a tail, my blinders were tossed aside and I acknowledged what I knew all along: they’d replaced me with a dog who was younger, faster, and a stronger version of me at my best. The same way I had done to Lincoln with no apologies a lifetime ago.

They didn’t care about you and they never did. No matter how well you did your job and regardless of your record, all you ever were was a potential liability. You anxiously waited your turn until you became the weak link in the chain. Then they fixed the chain and threw away the old parts. The only thing you could do was prolong the inevitable because nobody came out unscathed. Everyone gets replaced and tossed away.

The moment they decided that your service was no longer up to par, you ceased to exist. You’re no longer a living, breathing creature who feels joy and friendship and fear and anger, you’re a service provider. That’s what you we’re there for. To make someone else’s job easier.

Let’s say that it had played out at the track the way it should have. That I didn’t procrastinate when I saw Scamper dressed like a fool in that pen. I should have never dragged Nipper and Ernie into it to begin with. I had already hedged my bets. I was just another gambler at the track. 

If I’d done it the way I should have, I’d have hurdled that fence and tore the costume off Scamper. I’d have squeezed him up against the corner of his pen so hard that he could barely exhale. I’d have demanded right there for him to tell me where Clay was and that if he tried to stall I’d bite one of his nails off.
Answer me! Where is he?

Fritz,
I don’t know what you-

Clay would announce that he was right behind me. I’d drop the quivering sack and go after Clay with no fancy talk. I’d take out his legs. I’d waste no time paying him back by closing my mouth on his knee. His bones would crumble in my mouth. As he yelped in agony
, I’d pin his neck down with extreme prejudice.

I’d tear him open and show him to that reporter. I’d challenge her to use every adjective she had in her arsenal to describe it. The other dogs, who at first were excited for me to take Clay down, would tell me that enough was enough. I’d dare them to stop me and I’d make them take pity on Clay; take pity on what was left of him and then to tell every dog they knew in Grand City to be afraid of me.

Would that make me a cop again? All that would prove was that I was just a dog. A cop wouldn’t behave like that. No matter what course of action I took at the cat races, I was nothing.

I was not Odysseus. I was not on a quest. I wasn’t going home. I was old. I was beaten down. I was tired. I was Argos. I wai
ted for my master to come home. And then I was going to roll over and die. 

I thought about Nipper and Ernie on their way back home as they reentered the maze of homes on that cool night. They were lucky. They had their little piece of land that was theirs, the backyard. Ernie took his time, using his scratches as an excuse, saying his legs were tired from the race. He was just in no hurry to get back. He suggested that they stopped on the way to visit Scarlet and Saucy.

“Sure,” Nipper said. “If you want to go say hi, let’s go.”

Ernie woke up Saucy by scratching the fence. She was excited to see him even if it was just through a broken piece of a wooden fence.

“Shouldn’t you be on your big case?” Saucy said. “What are you even doing here?”

“I just wanted to come by and visit,” Ernie said. “We haven’t played together for awhile.”

“And whose fault is that?” Saucy said.

“You think it’s mine?” Ernie says.

“Well, it’s not mine.”

“He needed our help.”

“Where is he? Should I wake Scarlet?”

“He’s not coming home,” Ernie said.

“Is he-” she
said, gasping.

“No. He’s fine. Or so he says he is. There wasn’t much else we could do, so we left. He didn’t want to come. Whatever. You should have seen me though, Saucy. You would’ve loved it. Nipper made me look like a cat and then we snuck into the cat races and I was doing really good chasing after this dog who was a real jerk, but then it turned into a huge mess and the cats attacked me and the dogs in the stands went crazy and then Nipper had to come help me and then they threw us out of the track. And Nipper, he got right in the face of Clay,
the
Clay. Not even Fritz did that, but Nipper did. Oh, and I saw Knox and Gash too.”

“I think you guys should leave,” Saucy said.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want to hear about what a great time you’ve been having while I’ve been stuck here with the beauty queen.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the story. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“See you later, Ernie,” Saucy said. With no other stops to make, Nipper and Ernie walked in silence the rest of the way home until they got back to their street and Nipper stopped.

“Do you think I’m brave, Ernie?” Nipper said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s a yes or no question. Just be honest with me. I heard what you said to Saucy.”

“Yeah, sure, Nipper.”

“Really? You think I have guts?”

“Sure, Nipper. The way you jumped in there when those cats were clawing at me
was pretty cool.”

“But those were just cats. You don’t think I’m a coward?”

“You went up and sat right next to Clay when Fritz wouldn’t, that took some courage. Hey, it’s not like you need to impress me or nothing. But to answer your question, no Nipper, I do not think that you are a coward.”

“So much for one last adventure, huh? We’ll have to do it again sometime, right?”

“We’ll see,” Ernie said. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why was Saucy so mad at me? And why do I care so much?”

“I don’t know, Ernie. I don’t know. You’re probably asking the wrong dog to give you any advice
about that stuff. You think I could have been a cop?”

“I don’t know Nipper. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanted to ask.” They continued and passed under a streetlight right out in front of the Hart house on the corner. A rattling came from behind them.

“What d
o you think, Clay?” Scamper said, as Nipper and Ernie turned around and were inches away from an angry Clay and Scamper. “Could he have been a cop? I don’t think they’d ever let a pathetic mutt like him wear a badge.”

“Watch your mouth,” Ernie said.

“Tough talk from such a little dog,” Clay said.

“What do you two want?” Nipper said.

“Where’s Fritz?” Clay said. Nipper looked to Ernie for what to say and do. “Let me rephrase the question. Where’s that broken down, hobbling, ghost of a dog? Last thing I was going to do was tear his throat out with a hundred witnesses. But two witnesses? I can handle that.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Nipper said
, with too much gumption. Ernie closed his eyes and took a deep breath knowing what kind of mistake Nipper had just made. “In fact, we haven’t seen him in hours since we left the track.”

“That’s too bad,” Clay said.

“Yeah,” Nipper said. “You’ll have to keep looking somewhere else.”

“That’s not what we had in mind,” Scamper said.

“I wasn’t just looking for Fritz,” Clay said. “The two of you cost me a lot of bones today.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been cheating,” Nipper said. “Then we wouldn’t have had to do anything. Besides, we don’t have any bones between the two of us, so again, you’ll just have to go somewhere else.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” Clay said. “Because now I get to have a little bit of fun.”

“Yeah, it’s time for us to have a bit of fun,” Scamper
said, chiming in safely behind Clay.

“Just know that I can hurt you too,”
Ernie said, his voice trembling as he positioned himself in front of Nipper and faced Clay. “You can bet on that.”