Bobby D. Lux - Dog Duty (12 page)

Ernie’s eyes finally creaked open. He blinked a few times until he realized it was Nipper now disturbing him. This time, he didn’t startle and remained on his back.
“What is it, Nipper? This is happening too many times.”

“Umm, did you need me for something?”

“I need ten hours where no one bothers me. That’s what I need from you right now.”

“Oh, I thought I heard you say my name.”

“Nope. I was dreaming of being at a sausage factory.”

“Cool.”

“You weren’t there. It was me and all the smoked sausages that, well, that I could dream of.”

“You sure you didn’t call for me.” Nipper said.

“Positive, Nipper. Maybe it was Fritz.”

“No. He’s sleeping, but hey, since you’re up already, do you have a minute?”

Ernie rolled over to his side and rubbed the side of his face with his arms. He wasn’t sleeping, but I’m not convinced he was awake either. “What’s up, buddy?”

“You’re really gonna go with him?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s been boring here anyway for too long. The people have been acting strange too. We’ll come back.”

“Aren’t you scared? I mean, these are bad dogs that he’s going after. Look what they did to his leg. He can barely run anymore.”

“He’s still a cop and I know my way around the streets pretty good. It’s where I’m from. Don’t get me wrong, I like it here, but out there is my home too.”

“Why does he want to get these dogs? I don’t see the big deal. He’s safe here.”

“Nipper, don’t you understand? As bad as you don’t want him to be here, he doesn’t want to be here even more. If I can help him get what he wants, maybe we all get what we want.”

“Everyone seems to like him. The people. The dogs at the park. Scarlet. You.”

“You stop right there. Ever since I’ve been here, it was Nipper and Ernie. You’re my buddy and nothing’s going to change that. What’s wrong with you, Nipper? This is our chance to have an adventure. Nipper and Ernie-”

“And Fritz.”

“Yeah. And Fritz. Yes, we
could
do it without you, but the thing is I can’t do it without you, so that’s it. I’m just gonna wake up Fritz and tell him, sorry pal, you’re on your own. You know he’s gonna be miserable which is going to make you miserable, which is going to make me miserable.”

“Wait,” Nipper said, as Ernie committed to his ruse by getting up on his feet, which for Ernie to stand at that late of an hour said something about his ability as a salesman, “you think I should go with you guys?”

“I think you should come with us,” Ernie said, getting ever closer to me.

“Hold on. Don’t wake him up, Ernie. I’m gonna go. Now, uh, you don’t worry. Just go get some sleep, okay? I’m gonna go. Wait a second; he’s got a plan for this thing, right?”

“Oh yeah, he’s got it all figured out. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried, Ernie. I sleep like a puppy.”

Nipper disappeared into the sanctity of his corner of the yard. Call me corny, but I opened my eyes in hopes to enjoy a moment with Ernie where we made eye contact. I hoped to share a synchronized head nod like a scene from a movie where the heroes acknowledge that a seemingly chaotic scene went exactly the way they planned it to. But no, Ernie was already back up against the stucco racing to catch up with his snores.

Instead, it was the scene in the movie where the hero was lulled into a false sense of security. He thought the foolproof plan he had devised was on the verge of being seamlessly rolled into action while his two mortal enemies were perched in the child’s fort one yard over spying on him and the two other dogs. The tiny one wanted to attack at that very moment, but the other one, the bigger and craftier one, he did not expect two other dogs. He’d been aroun
d long enough to know that it was the wise dog who regrouped and devised a better plan.

The large dog, while frustrated, was satisfied e
nough to know that his prey would be there when he returned. The hero fell asleep.

08:00 Hours
– I’d been up for an hour. Breakfast was eaten, washed down, and digested. I ate lighter than I had in years and upped my water intake with a goal of increased endurance and mobility. I woke the boys. Ernie put up a hassle (as always), but Nipper took to the new schedule and structure better than I thought he would. Nipper had been eating my leftover share of chow to help bulk him up some. Ernie’s portions remained constant.

08:20 Hours
– Morning exercise. Nipper worked on a body weight routine; a lot of squats, lunges, and free jumps. I jogged laps around the yard with him as long as my leg could hold. We still didn’t talk much, but we didn’t argue either. Ernie was on an all sprint routine; one end of the yard and back. And again. And again.

I reminded them that the dogs we were going after would not show them any mercy. They did their damndest to put me on the shelf for good. We needed to be as lean, as mean, and a tough as our bodies would let us be.

08:45 Hours
– Cool down session. I made sure Nipper stretched his hips well and showed him some simple moves. Ernie complained about the stretching, saying he never needed to stretch after a run before.

“Be quiet and get it over with,” Nipper said.

09:00 – 11:00 Hours
– We waited to see if today would be the day they took us back to the dog park. Another bust. This marked three weeks of remaining in the yard.

11:20 Hours
– Simon came into the yard to play. He gave Nipper and Ernie treats. I’m offered some, but I declined. He dropped one in front of me, the foulest smelling of the handful. I sniffed it and walked away. Ernie gobbled it up. Simon tossed a tennis ball across the yard. Ernie’s surprised at how much quicker he can retrieve it. I didn’t play with the child.

11:25 Hours
– Simon got bored and went back inside. I explained to the boys that lunch will have to wait an hour due to the extra treats they ate. Ernie protested as expected.

11:30 Hours
- Officer Hart made an appearance. He led me out of the backyard and into the front seat of The Intimidator. Before I left, I reminded Ernie about the added wait time on lunch.

“I know, Fritz,” he said.

I didn’t believe him.

I rode in the front seat of The Intimidator with Officer Hart. He listened to talk radio; AM 680 – The Home of Grand City Conservative Talk. Miles Shumer returned from commercial break with breaking news on a Senator. Their staffer broke into the campaign offices of their opponent with the aim of making it look as if the opponent misappropriated funds on a recent trip overseas… I can’t even pretend to understand what that meant.

Miles screamed through the speakers. The pitch hurt the fur on the tip of my ears. I don’t understand why people get so mad about this stuff. If everything went their way they’d have nothing to talk about and would be out of business.

Officer Hart’s phone vibrated and he turned down the radio. Not low enough for me.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I had to check in with you every time I came and went.”

Ten seconds at a red light. Officer Hart closed his eyes for five of them.

“Dear, is it okay with you? Do I have your written express permission to go for a ride with the dog in The Intimidator?”

Three seconds.

“Of course Fritz is with me. What did you think, he ran away? Police dogs don’t do that.”
Good to know. Moving on.
“Yes, he’s in the back.”

Officer Hart reached down to scratch the top of my head and kept his one free elbow on the steering wheel. Miles took a phone call, a concerned citizen on line one.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” Officer Hart said, as he stopped scratching me and returned his hand to the wheel. His free foot bounced up and down on its heel next to the brake pedal. “Out. Does it matter? I have no idea when we’re going to come back. Before dinner, okay?”

Miles gave the name of a website to the concerned caller where they could read more information with charts and detailed figures. He further disclaimed that the website was in fact associated with his law firm but that the information came from unbiased research.

“I don’t know how many times I have to apologize,” Officer Hart said. “I don’t even know how you’ve turned this so that it’s me who’s doing the apologizing to begin with. What do you think? You think I’m feeling fantastic over it?”

Miles segued into a news story that ended as an advertisement for an online identity theft prevention service; only a few hundred dollars annually.

“I have to drive. I’m gonna go.” Officer Hart said, folding his phone shut and tossing it over his shoulder in the back seat. “If you want to try eating it, I wouldn’t stop you Fritz.”

I just looked at him.

13:00 Hours
– Lunch at a Mexican fast food place. We went into the drive through. I hung out the window and breathed in what Grand City used to smell like for me. I smelled the tar of asphalt, the cherry lipstick on the cigarette butts tossed on the sidewalk, the stagnant water in the gutter, the exhaust from the cars as they passed by.

I smelled every single ingredient inside the restaurant. The black beans, the grilled veggies, the buckets and buckets of pork, the fresh carne asada, and the newly chopped chicken. The steel of the butcher knife roared through my nose.

We paid and parked and waited until they brought us a tray of food. Officer Hart let me out of The Intimidator with no leash. We sat down at the end of a long hard plastic bench that was carved up with gang logos and covered with the remains of peeled stickers. I sat next to him on the ground. He gave me a plate of mini-burritos.

“I won’t tell if you wo
n’t tell,” Officer Hart said. I wanted to eat the food. I didn’t want to be rude, but the key to any fitness routine is a steady diet. I used to absolutely love human food, but I knew it would feel like I swallowed a brick for the next week. I politely lay down and turned my head away from the food. Officer Hart rubbed my back. “You feeling okay, buddy? How’s that rear wheel of yours doing?”

I turned back and half-heartedly licked at the guacamole on the plate.

“Alright, well, don’t eat it if you don’t want it. I’m sure Nitro’ll gulp it down.”

Nitro?

13:24 Hours –
The Intimidator rolled into the Grand City PD parking lot and we parked a few spots away from the squad cars and SWAT vans. I saw the K-9 unit with my face still painted on the side. It now read “Nitro!” under my face. I wanted to be anywhere else. My head felt heavy and I took deep breaths. If I was going to feel like this I should have had one of those burritos.

“Let’s go say hi,” Officer Hart said. I didn’t budge.
What were my choices? Go inside and be paraded through the halls and offices like an ancient relic, a token of the old days, and a reminder that this too will happen to all of them someday? Or did I sit there in the car waiting for someone to pull up and see my mug in the window and then what? “Come on. Everyone wants to say hi. They miss you.” I hopped down out of the car and my leg buckled. “Whoa, not so fast, Fritz.”

13:28 Hours
– So far, so good. We hadn’t passed anyone of note in the hallways of the department; some rookies, a dispatcher, a records clerk. We turned the corner and there was Nitro with his partner, Officer Richards, who took over the K-9 role with Nitro. Officer Hart was offered the spot, but he took a transfer to auto theft instead.

“What’re you doing here?” Nitro said.

“I came with him,” I said. “I didn’t know we were coming. If I did, I wouldn’t have got in the car.”

Officer Hart and Richards talked about last night’s basketball game.

“You expect me to believe that?” Nitro said, leaning in and smelling my face. “Must be nice spending time at the beach.”

“Not as much as you’d think.”

“Couldn’t stay away, could you? Can’t say I don’t understand. It is a bit rare for the old timers to come back. Makes the rest of us feel uncomfortable, to be honest. To see you all beaten up, hobbling, struggling just to stand up. I feel like I should ask if you need any help like I would any other victim in need.”           

“You know what it is, Nitro. It must be so hard for you to wake up every morning knowing without any doubt that even if that day is the best day of your career, it’ll never be half as good as any regular day that I had.”

“You keep talking about yourself in the past tense,” Nitro said, as he snarled and showed his teeth with his eyes focused on mine, “and I’ll be glad to help you get there.”      

“I dare you,” I said, putting the side of my face next to his and pushing his away.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Officer Richards said. “Nitro, down.”

Nitro sat submissively next to Richards. I stayed on my feet and stood behind Officer Hart.

“Did you see what happened?” Officer Hart said.

“No,” Officer Richards said.
“But I’ve read that when you have two alphas who’ve been apart for awhile and then you bring them back together without any type of, uh, this guy called it pre-scenting, that sometimes they’ll fight.”

I don’t care what he’d heard or read; it was pretty simple: I wasn’t letting Nitro, or any dog, disrespect me. Ever
again. Officer Hart and Richards made a quick farewell and took the two of us away from each other. Richards yelled after something about meeting for a beer and a bite for the next game.

“What’s wrong, Fritz?” Officer Hart said
, as we went up a flight of stairs. “You know better than that, but I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t take that dog’s crap either.”

I’d never spent much time on the top floor of the department. It looked like any other top floor of an office building: desks, phones, vending machines, and bathrooms. Officer Hart took me inside the empty Auto Theft office where desks were scattered along the walls. Officer Hart’s was in the front corner, closest to the door, and offered the least privacy.
           

“I was hoping some of the guys would be here so you could say
hi,” Officer Hart said, as he sat down, shuffled through some files, and took notes. He grabbed a handful of bone-shaped biscuits from an oversized coffee cup on top of his computer and dropped them down for me. They were stale, but they were the same ones Officer Hart always had in supply for me. I ate them.

15:53 Hours
– Back in the Intimidator on our way home. Miles Shumer wrapped up his broadcast with a warning for all of us to stay vigilant, remain informed, and keep our families safe until we met again next time. Officer Hart graciously didn’t wait for the next host to take to the airwaves. He replaced the tinny auto square commercial with a CD. Even if it was country music, I’d take it.

I watched Officer Hart as he drove; his elbow pressed up against the side window and propping his head up. He looked over at me and maneuvered a deadpan smile with not
hing behind it. Just scrunched lips and a brief nostril exhale.

“We’ll be home soon,” he said.
      

Don’t hurry on account of me
.

Another few minutes of an increasingly bumpy ride took us to an area of Grand City that primarily comprised of run-down, post World War II apartments. We stopped on the side of the road and Officer Hart lowered his hat, put on his sunglasses, and slouched down in his seat.

16:09 Hours
– We continued to sit in silence until a nondescript sedan pulled into the front driveway of the Chez Petey’s Apartments on the opposite side of the street from us. It stopped in front of a closed garage. Classic rock music came from the open windows of the sedan. Loud enough to justify a car stop. The rear window of the car was covered with decals advertising a home yoga service and an 800 number. Officer Hart set his unflinching gaze on the man who emerged from the car: Caucasian, 30s, six foot, a hundred and seventy, long hair. He wore jeans and a shirt with a design that looked like a paint can vomited all over it. Visible tattoos on his forearms.

The man popped his trunk and hooked several bags of groceries to one arm and a box of books under the other. He tried to close his trunk with both hands full but finally sat down the box of books to slam it shut after four unsuccessful tries. Moron. He scooped up the box and walked to the metal gate next to the call box a few feet away from his car. Officer Hart continued to watch this non-show.

The subject tried to fish his keys out of his pocket, but too many plastic bags hanging off his wrist prevented any success. He set the bags on the ground and got his keys. He turned back to his car, aimed the keys at the car and set the alarm. Even I know that it’s totally unnecessary to point and shoot those things; just hit the button and let the magic work.

He unlocked the gate to the complex and kept it open by sticking his hips between the end of the door and the doorjamb while he strung the grocery bags up along his wrist again. He backed into the palm tree lined courtyard of Chez Petey’s and disappeared into to the complex.