K-9 Blues (Paws & Claws Book 3)

by Ralph Vaughan

  “Oh no, Slim Shady!” Sunny cried, rushing to his side. “No!”

  “Crazy mixed-up Whippet,” Yoda snarled, but he also rushed forward to comfort the distraught dog.

  In a world where survival was ever dicey, and the odds seemed always against the underdog, it was disheartening for any animal to consider ending its own existence. Such actions were prohibited by both the Principles of First Dog and the Tenants of Anubis, the two guiding spirits of the canine world, but since dogs, like all creatures, sometimes only gave muzzle-service to ethics and creeds that would makes their lives better, such incidents were not unknown.

  Levi gazed upon Slim Shady with pity. He had not realized how far afield the Whippet’s life had gone. It was past time to get him back on the road to happiness. Levi caught a dark motion out the corners of his eyes and saw Smokey had returned. He trotted to the end of the walkway. At the same time, Groucho leaped from the roof of the house, to the lintel atop the wooden pillars at the walkway’s end, then down to join Levi and Smokey.

  “I watched Antony and Arnold head down Fifth toward F Street,” Groucho reported. “They did plenty of stopping and looking back – I think they may also have been arguing – but they kept on moving away.”

  “That tallies with what I saw from the apartment complex fronting F Street,” Smokey said in that soft and gravelly voice of his, faintly tinged with the hint of a Ukrainian accent. “They seem truly on their way back to the police building.”

  “But they will be back,” Groucho warned. “You know they will as soon as that skunky scent settles enough for them to get a fix on Slim Shady.”

  “By the time they get back, Slim Shady will be nowhere to be found,” Levi said. “At least by them.”

  “What are you going to do with him, Levi?” Smokey asked.

  “Get him out of the area,” Levi replied. “National City.”

  “Smart, taking him north while the K-9s are to the south,” the back and silver tom remarked.

  “That may not escape their notice,” Groucho warned. “No one in this neighbor will turncoat on you, but once you get past E Street, there are plenty who would be eager to curry favor with the K-9 Unit, or maybe just to get even.”

  “Perhaps,” Levi agreed. “But once Slim Shady is over the bridge he’s out of their jurisdiction.”

  Both cats looked doubtful.

  “I need you both back on lookout,” Levi said. “Okay?”

  A quick nod and the Calico and the tom were fast and away, over the back fence, vanishing into the apartment complex, heading through the maze of buildings and courtyards to a vantage point where they could keep watch on Officers Antony and Arnold, as well as the Chula Vista Police Department, which occupied the whole southeast corner of Fourth Avenue and F Street. Levi turned and rejoined the other three dogs. Slim Shady, helped by Yoda and Sunny, had calmed down considerably.

  “Slim Shady, you are getting a new home,” Levi said.

  “With companions?”

  Levi nodded. “With companions.”

  “I don’t know that I can,” Slim Shady said dubiously.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Levi pointed out. “Not with the K-9 Unit on your tail.”

  “But I did not do anything! The Whippet protested.

  “All the more reason to put you in a safe house.”

  “Look, Slim Shady, you can’t judge all companions by what happened to you,” Yoda asserted.

  “Yoda is right, at least this time,” Sunny agreed. “Companions may be rather dim, very poor at making themselves understood, and lack even the rudimentary social skills necessary for canine society, but they are usually good intentioned and well meaning. Generally, if you show a companion kindness and understanding, you will get the same thing in return.”

  “Show me a bad companion, I’ll show you a bad dog,” Yoda added. Then he thought about what had happened to Slim Shady and said: “Most of the time.”

  “As we’ve tried to tell you before,” Levi said, “part of what the Three Dog Detective Agency does is find homes for ferals who want to be pets, and pets needing to be removed from an abusive situation.”

  “Yeah, how do you think so many dogs and cats end up on a doorstep somewhere?” Yoda interjected.

  “I know, you guys have tried to talk me into it before,” Slim Shady acknowledge. “But like I said…”

  “That was then, this is now, and now you are in a dilemma that you cannot escape without a drastic change,” Levi said. “Not only will the K-9 Unit not give up on you, but there are other forces at play here, working from the shadows.”

  “Okay,” Slim Shady finally agreed. “I’ll give it a try. I suppose my life can’t be any worse than it is now.”

  “Trust us,” Yoda said. “We know what we’re doing.”

  “Well, some of us…” Sunny started to say, but fell silent at a reproving glance from Levi.

  Levi pushed against the door of the room they affectionately called The Library, and it popped open. Attracted by the sound, Kim and Little Kitty entered through a connecting doorway. They froze when they saw Slim Shady.

  “Don’t even think of it, Slim Shady,” Levi cautioned without looking back. “Kim, I need you and Little Kitty to contact The Scot, tell him he has a client coming over the bridge in about twenty minutes, let him know it’s Slim Shady.”

  “Safe house?” Kim asked.

  Levi nodded.

  “About time,” Little Kitty snapped, giving Slim Shady a baleful glare. “Riffraff!”

  She had yet to forgive the Whippet for chasing her up the driveway the previous month, and, knowing Little Kitty, it was doubtful she ever would. She was Groucho’s cousin, but she was the antithesis of the easygoing outdoor cat. She turned about in a huff, vibrated her tail disdainfully, and stalked away. The action would have been more impressive had she not walked directly into the edge of the interior door – a result not altogether unexpected since Little Kitty was blind in one eye, and did not see all that well out of the other. She vanished through the doorway.

  “Kim, would you…” Levi started to say.

  The Torby nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her. You all should get a move on – knowing the rozzers, they’ll be back soon, and it would be better if you three are not here when they do.”

  Levi sighed as the door closed. Kim had obviously been tuning in to the police stories on BBC-America again, no doubt in the company of Yoda, a film noir fan, who would watch any crime drama as long as he had a blankey handy under which he could duck his head if the action got too intense. Rozzers indeed! Almost twenty, and yet the Tabby with the tortoiseshell markings was at times as impressionable as a mewing kit.

  “Kim’s right,” Levi said as he turned to face the others. “The time to go is now. We’ve only twenty minutes to get to the bridge and rendezvous with The Scot. Everything will simpler if we’re back here by the time Antony and Arnold return. Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Slim Shady demanded, his doubts and fears welling once more. “The bridge? The Scot? I don’t think I…”

  “This is no time to tuck your tail, buddy!” Yoda exclaimed, pushing the Whippet, with an assist from the much larger Sunny. “It is now or never!”

  “And never is what it might just be if you stick around for the K-9s,” Sunny added. “They will definitely have you singing the blues.”

  Slim Shady, more fearful of the past he knew than he was of the unknown future, allowed himself to be herded through the open door and down the driveway. Levi took point and set the pace while Sunny and Yoda brought up the rear, keeping Slim Shady in front of them, ready to nip him should he try to bolt.

  Silently they trotted down Fifth Avenue, crossing E Street and entering a neighborhood other than their own, where every window seemed to have eyes.

  Slim Shady

  Chapter 2

  “Don’t you think you were a little rough on Levi and the others?” Arnold suggested as the two K-9 officers headed down Fifth Avenue
. “After all, they really have helped us to…”

  “You’re too soft on them, Arnold,” Antony snapped. “They are just civilians, but you tend to forget that.”

  “Oh, I don’t forget that,” Arnold protested. “But being civilians they have a certain freedom that we don’t.”

  “Would you like to have that freedom?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Leave the force,” Antony answered. “Get a few groupies, form a club, pretend you’re detectives…you know, the whole Scooby Doo thing.”

  Arnold looked closely at the Cane Corso, seeing if he could detect some trace of amusement on his partner’s muzzle, but, as usual, Antony was deadly serious.

  “No, of course not,” Arnold said. “I love my work. I would not trade working as a K-9 for anything.”

  “The way you were talking,” Antony said, “I had to wonder.”

  “All I am saying is, just because they do not wear a badge, that does not mean they cannot do some good in the world,” Arnold said. “Look at that gladiatorial school we busted.”

  “What about it?” Antony asked.

  “The Three Dog Detective Agency was all over that while we were still looking for clues to its location,” Arnold pointed out.

  “We would have found it eventually,” Antony defended. “We were closing in, it was only a matter of time.”

  “Yeah, I know, but how many more pets would have vanished, would have ended up in shallow graves or in trash bags at the Otay Dump?” Arnold said. “When they first came to us about it, we sent them away because they did not have the evidence we needed. I’ve lost sleep thinking about how many more would have died had they not interfered.”

  “I sleep just fine,” Antony claimed. “You forget, they could have given us more but they were hiding an escapee from the camp, would not let us talk to her. Had we been able to interview her, we might have been able to crash that place before they put themselves in peril.”

  “They did not trust us,” Arnold said.

  “They should have,” Antony asserted. “We’re the police.”

  “We could not have found her a new home,” Arnold admitted. “The rumor is they found her a nice home.”

  “The Shelter is good enough for strays,” Antony asserted.

  “A Shelter is no place for any dog!”

  “Why? They don’t put anyone to sleep here.”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “Well, Arnold,” Antony said as they neared the corner, “why don’t you tell me exactly what the point is?”

  “No dog deserves to end up in a Shelter, whether that Shelter is no-kill or not,” Arnold explained. “A dog needs a home.” Casting his partner a critical glance, he added: “I’m really surprised to hear you say that, Antony.”

  The Cane Corso sighed. “Why should it surprise you that I believe in law and order? When have I ever believed in anything else? Pets belong in their homes, working dogs like us belong on our jobs making a difference, and all others belong either in the wild or in Shelters.”

  “A Shelter is not a home.”

  “No, it isn’t, but a Shelter serves a purpose,” Antony admitted. “That’s why pets need to stay at home, not running around sticking their noses into everyone else’s business.”

  “What if you found yourself out of a job?”

  “What? Retired?”

  “No, I mean out of a job, on the street like any other,” Arnold said. “I think you might change your mind about Shelters.”

  Antony uttered a sharp gruff laugh. “Me? In a Shelter? No way! I have a place in society. I serve a purpose. There is no situation I can possibly imagine where I end up in a Shelter.”

  “Yeah, I know it would never happen, not to either of us,” the Belgian Shepherd allowed. “But it would not hurt you to show a little more compassion toward those less fortunate. You might be a better dog for it.”

  “Ouch!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Had a compassionate thought,” Antony replied with a wolfish grin. “It hurt.”

  “Laugh like a hyena if you want,” Arnold quipped. “But you ought to take care. It’s my experience that the universe has a way of jerking a knot in your tail when you least expect it.”

  Antony chuckled. “A Cane Corso doesn’t have enough of a tail to jerk a knot in.”

  “Believe me, Antony,” Arnold said, “every dog has enough of a tail, whether he knows it or not.”

  They walked on in companionable silence. Though they were very different dogs in many ways, they were united by the uniform they wore and the oath they had taken to serve and protect.

  “We have an audience,” Arnold said softly.

  “Yeah,” Antony acknowledged. “Those two fur-balls who hang around the house on Fifth, Groucho and that other one.”

  “Smokey.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I hear he used to be a ship’s cat,” Arnold commented.

  “If nothing else, cats are good ratters,” Antony said. “Most.”

  “Might have come from the Ukraine originally.”

  Antony sighed in exasperation. “You seem to know a lot about that motley crew.”

  “Well, I…”

  “Just a word of advice in your pointed little ear – don’t forget there is always a barrier between us and civilian dogs,” Antony said. “We wear a badge; they do not. Acquaintances outside the police force, maybe, but not friends. The only dogs you can truly count on will always be your kennel-mates.”

  “If you got to know Levi and the others better, you might change your mind,” Arnold said.

  “Then I won’t change my mind,” Antony said flatly. “Besides, I don’t think Golden Retrievers are all that cute.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, right,” the Cane Corso said with a sly wink. “I would be a poor detective if I didn’t figure out that much.”

  Arnold broke an embarrassed silence saying: “Why do you think the cats have a spy-eye on us?”

  “No doubt making sure we don’t turn back.”

  “I thought we might,” Arnold said. “Maybe catch Slim Shady if he makes a break.”

  “He won’t leave if he thinks we’re near,” Antony pointed out.

  “We’ll go back then after the skunking settles?”

  “We don’t have any choice,” Antony admitted. “I have to give Levi credit for knowing his law. We cannot go on marked territory without a demonstrable reason.”

  Arnold nodded in agreement. “Both Anubis and First Dog…”

  “I am more concerned with what Captain Reese and Sergeant Rex would have to say,” Antony said sharply. “I don’t have time to worry about hoary old religious doctrines, not with natural law and companion rules trumping all.”

  When they first were partnered years ago, Arnold had learned to stay clear of any ethics not taught at the K-9 Academy. Unlike Antony, who had come out of an Italian breeding farm, he had been raised on stories of First Dog and Anubis by his Dam and Sire. First Dog was that primal being who at the beginning of time first came to the campfire and taught companions how to emulate dogs (a trait they were evidently still working to achieve), bringing rules of loyalty and self reliance. It was to Anubis, however, that modern dogs were most indebted. The Tenants taught dogs how to coexist beyond the pack, to develop the finer instincts that raised them above creatures of wasteland and wood. To Arnold, they were real dogs, an everyday force in his life, but it was not a conversation he could have with Antony.

  “Do you think Slim Shady will still be there when we go back?” Arnold asked.

  “Probably not,” Antony admitted. “The price of following the letter of the law.”

  “Maybe he was not there to begin with.”

  Antony snorted derisively. “Do you think he wasn’t there?”

  “I don’t know,” Arnold sighed. “I think he probably was. I think that’s why Levi stood up to us going in.”

  “How do you reconcile your high opinion
of the Three Dog Detective Agency with them sheltering a thief and a biter?”

  “They must have their reasons.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “I know I would sooner take Levi’s word about something over Boris’ any day,” Arnold asserted. “And I didn’t like the way he sent us out after Slim Shady in the park.”

  Antony frowned. “As much as I hate to admit it, I rather agree with you on both counts. I’m no narrow-minded purist, but a jackal-dog mix inspires neither trust or confidence.”

  “Got a good sniffer, I’ll give him that much.”

  “Yeah, at most that much.”

  “If Slim Shady is gone, it will be like he was never there.”

  “I’m not worried about Slim Shady,” Antony said smugly. “If he’s gone, we’ll find him again, whether we run him to ground or trip over him. After all, where can he go?”

  “Nowhere he can hide,” Arnold said.

  “Exactly,” Antony agreed.

  Checking for traffic, the two police dogs bounded across F Street, continuing toward the corner. As they passed the transformer substation on the southwest corner the hairs across their backs rose, a natural reaction to the electrical energy passing through the switches and regulators, and their sensitive noses were assaulted by the sharp metallic tang of ozone. Before the substation had been rebuilt, it had been contained within an ordinary looking clapboard house; until the reconstruction revealed the machinery, most dogs in the area thought the house to be truly haunted.

  “We’ll get some chow, let the Sergeant know what happened, then head back,” Antony said.

  Arnold leaped and slapped the crossing button with his right paw. It beeped, and they waited for the light to change.

  “Sounds like a plan,” the Belgian Shepherd agreed. “Should be enough time for the smell to fade.”

  The light changed. An annoying and unnecessary mechanical voice announced repeatedly that it was safe to cross Fourth. Both dogs checked for traffic before venturing off the curb.