by Wayne Smith
Then all hell broke loose.
“Thor!” Mom shrieked.
“He bit me!” the Stranger screamed. “I’m suing!” He pointed an accusing finger at Mom, not Thor. “You got a dangerous animal there, lady, and you’re gonna pay for it!” As he spoke, the front door of the house flew open with a bang.
“What’s going on?” Dad shouted from the porch. He ran down the steps two at a time and crossed the yard in seconds. Thor quietly took his place next to Mom, his eyes on the Stranger, his body tense and ready to spring, a shred of the man’s pants still stuck between his teeth. No more warnings, he silently told the Stranger.
Thor was relieved to see Dad. Dad would take over from here.
“You better get a lawyer, lady,” the man said, ignoring Dad, “because you’re gonna hear from mine, toot sweet!” He sat on the grass and held his undamaged ankle as if in great pain. He made no move to get up.
“You can talk to me,” Dad said. He pulled a small white card from his wallet and contemptuously tossed it to the Stranger. “I’m a lawyer.”
Before the Stranger could react, Dad reached down and jerked the torn pants leg away from the man’s ankle. There was no wound. “I don’t see what you’re going to sue for,” Dad said, “except maybe the price of a new pair of pants at K Mart.” Dad’s tone was openly hostile.
“Hey, listen, buddy,” the Stranger said. “I don’t care if you are a lawyer. Your dog attacked me, and if you don’t want to settle, fine. I won’t sue you. I’ll get a court order and have him destroyed.”
Thor understood none of it, but he saw that Dad was on the brink of violence himself. Thor let out another low growl, but Dad’s hand came down like an avenging angel, slapping him hard on the nose.
Thor was shocked. He looked up at Dad in disbelief.
“Get in the house!” Dad shouted, pointing at the front door. Thor had never seen Dad so angry at anyone before, least of all himself. Thor was only trying to help. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done wrong, but he had no choice but to obey. Dad was the Pack Leader. His word was Law.
Thor reluctantly slinked away, head bowed, tail between his legs. About halfway to the house he stopped, turned around, sat down and watched, feeling guilty and not knowing why.
Meanwhile, the confrontation between Dad and the Stranger lowered in volume, but not in intensity.
“Did he bite your leg?” Dad asked, already knowing the answer. The Stranger, aware that he was talking to a lawyer, hesitated. “‘Cause if he bit your leg,” Dad went on, “you’ll have to see a doctor right away. Since you’re on foot, I’ll give you a lift to the nearest hospital emergency room right now.” Thor could see the Stranger didn’t like whatever Dad had just said.
“He . . . the bite didn’t break the skin . . . But I’m in pain!” the Stranger said. Then, improvising, he added, “I think I pulled something when I fell.”
“Well, broken skin or not, if you’re injured, we’ll have to go to the hospital right now. C’mon,” Dad said, reaching for the man’s hand to help him up. “I’ll take you to our family doctor.”
“I got my own doctor!” the man said, recoiling from Dad’s hand. Dad’s attitude shifted abruptly from make-believe concern to open hostility.
“All right,” Dad said angrily, “I think I’ve heard about enough, Flopsy.” Thor had never heard the name Flopsy before, but he got the point. Dad said it with exactly the same inflections Teddy used when he called Brett “shithead” (something he only dared to do when Mom and Dad weren’t around).
“There’s no blood,” Dad said, “there’s no swelling, and you’ve been moving your foot around the whole time we’ve been talking. Your only damages are those crummy pants. So here’s my first and last offer: I’m going to give you fifty dollars cash for the pants. Judging by the look of them, you’ll make a thirty-dollar profit on the deal. In return for the cash, you’re going to sign a waiver right here and right now, stating that you deliberately provoked the dog, but suffered no injuries of any kind. Otherwise, I’m calling the sheriff and filing charges against you for molesting my wife.”
Mom looked sharply at Dad but said nothing. Thor wondered what Dad had just said to produce such a response.
“I never touched your—”
“Two against one, Flopsy. Our word against yours. No other witnesses. Besides, I’d bet money you’ve got a record, and I’m sure I could satisfy a judge that your record would be relevant to determining the truthfulness of you testimony. Just between you and me, I think you’d stand a good chance of getting convicted, even if the judge and jury believe you’re being set up. Now what’ll it be, Flopsy?”
Thor felt great. Whatever they were saying, Dad was clearly dominating the exchange. The Stranger, whose name was apparently Flopsy, radiated anger and resentment, the emotions of the defeated. Thor half-expected to see a tail appear between the Stranger’s legs when he finally got up to leave.
The Stranger thought for a moment, then made a decision.
“You got the fifty now?” he asked sullenly. Dad pulled two twenties and a ten from his wallet, showed them to the Stranger, then stuffed them into his own shirt pocket.
“Okay,” the Stranger said. “Deal.”
“Teddy!” Dad said over his shoulder. “Go into the house and get my legal pad off my desk. Brett, get the camera out of the car.”
“Wait a minute . . .” Flopsy said.
“No picture, no deal,” Dad said, outwardly relaxed. “Take it or leave it.”
“Awright,” the man grumbled. Brett arrived with the camera. Under Dad’s direction, the man pulled up his pants leg and allowed his ankle to be photographed from three angles. As Dad finished with the camera, Teddy arrived with the legal pad and pen. Dad gave the camera to Mom while he scribbled on the pad. When he finished, he handed the pad and pen to Flopsy, who studied it carefully.
“I’m not signing till I have the money,” Flopsy said. Dad responded by turning to his oldest child.
“Teddy, call Sheriff Jensen. Tell him you’re my son, he’ll take the call. Tell him we have a problem with a sex offender, and to send a deputy right away.” Then he turned to Mom. “Honey, you were talking to him when you noticed he was fiddling with his pants. When you looked to see what he was doing, he exposed himself. You were startled, you began to back away, he grabbed your wrist, and that’s when Thor went for him. Got it?” He turned to Flopsy with a vicious grin. “It was nice knowing you, Flopsy. I’ll visit you in the Big House.”
The man stared back at him with undisguised hate. Thor tensed, ready to attack. If Flopsy made any move to attack Dad, Thor would take him out before he could get to his feet. It made no difference that he was halfway across the yard.
He let out a warning growl, which was a mistake. Dad looked around, saw Thor in the middle of the yard, and exploded.
“I said get in the house!”
Thor thought something like, What did I do? and sullenly retreated to the porch. Dad’s order was absurd. Thor couldn’t go into the house unless someone opened the door for him. He climbed onto the porch and lay down, still ready to intervene if necessary.
“Gimme the paper,” Flopsy muttered.
“Let me see your driver’s license first,” Dad countered.
“What for?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Dad answered patiently, as if he were addressing a small child. “I have to see that the signature that goes on the paper looks like the one on your license. I’m sure you understand.” The man trembled with rage as he pulled out his wallet, opened it, and handed it to Dad, who wrote down the name and birth date on a separate piece of paper, then gave the wallet back.
“Where’s my fifty?” Flopsy demanded.
“You’ll get it after you sign. If you don’t like that arrangement, we can let the sheriff sort things out.”
Flopsy signed, handed the pad and pen back to Dad, and waited. But instead of giving him the money, Dad stood up, folded the yellow paper, and stuffed it in h
is pocket.
“Okay, Billy-boy,” he said, referring to the name on the Stranger’s license. All anger had left his voice, replaced by an impersonal, businesslike tone. “Here’s the deal: As we both know, this agreement doesn’t mean shit — you could always say you signed it under duress, which in fact you did. So if you want your fifty bucks, you can come into my office on Monday before ten A.M. and sign another copy in front of witnesses. You’ll get your fifty then. If you come after ten, I’ll be in consultation and the offer will be withdrawn. Understand? In the meantime, I’m going to run a check on you for warrants and priors. Frankly, I won’t be surprised if you don’t show on Monday. And by the way, even though this paper isn’t a legal contract, it’s still evidence on my side, along with the pictures. The only reason I’m willing to give you the fifty at all is because I keep my word. I have to set a good example for my kids, right Billy-boy?”
“You son of a bitch!”
“Now, now, Billy-boy. You know, if you start getting abusive, we might still have to call the sheriff. Now I suggest you get up, turn around, and walk away without saying another word and without looking back. And don’t think of this as a total loss — you learned a valuable lesson: Don’t mess with a lawyer on his own turf.”
Dad turned his back on Flopsy and told the kids to get in the car and wait for him. He waited until Flopsy got to his feet and left, then he and Mom walked to the porch, where Thor lay on his stomach, nervously thumping the floor with his tail and wishing he could make it stop. Thor had no idea what to expect.
Dad watched him with hard eyes as he came up the porch steps. He opened the front door and said, “Get in!” with a voice like stone. A physical sensation of dread ran through Thor’s body. He was sure he would be left behind — alone — while the Pack went to the beach. He barely lifted his body off the floor as he slinked into the house.
Thor had no idea where he went wrong, but he didn’t ponder it. Life was full of rules, some minor, some major, many completely absurd. There was no point in trying to figure them out. The only important thing was to obey them whenever possible. Breaking a minor rule wasn’t too bad — a little scolding, maybe a halfhearted swat on the rump with a rolled-up newspaper if someone was really annoyed — but no big deal.
It was the Laws that counted. The Laws were much more than rules — they were the Pack’s foundations. When Thor obeyed the Laws, he was a Good Dog. When he didn’t, he was a Bad Dog.
Nothing was better than being a Good Dog, secure in the warmth of the Pack’s love and affection. And nothing was worse than being a Bad Dog. To be Bad was to be unfit to live with the Pack, and risk having all love and affection withdrawn.
And yet, there were times when it was hard to be Good. The problem was that there were two sets of Laws: Natural Law, which came from the gut, and Dad’s Law. Natural Law Number One was Protect the Pack; it had guided all Thor’s actions toward the Stranger. He’d tried to obey Natural Law within the framework of the Pack’s Laws, but apparently he’d failed. Mom and Dad appreciated Natural Law, even if they didn’t always agree with it. While it was clear to Thor that they expected him to protect the Pack, they were extremely nervous whenever he took direct action on their behalf. Now Mom and Dad would wrestle with the conflict between the Laws. No one would argue Thor’s case for him, and there would be no appealing their decision. He just had to wait to find out whether he was a Good Dog or a Bad Dog.
If he were human, he would have thought his situation unfair and unjust. Being a dog, he thought his situation was normal, and for him, it was.
As Mom and Dad discussed his behavior, it became apparent that Dad was sympathetic to Thor’s good intentions. But Dad was annoyed with Thor’s disobedience, and he and Mom were worried. Very worried.
Thor couldn’t imagine what was worrying them. Flopsy showed incredibly bad judgment, but he didn’t seem very dangerous.
Finally, Dad picked up the phone, poked it, and spoke to it.
When Thor was young, the phone had been a bottomless source of mystery. Of all the strange things the Pack did, talking to the phone was the strangest. Sometimes the phone chirped, and they went for it like it was the last piece of meat in the world. Sometimes they picked it up unbidden, poked it a few times, and waited. In any case, they talked and listened to it as if it were another person. Thor could often tell who the other person was supposed to be, but that person was never actually in the room, or even in the house. Like all the Pack’s mysteries, the phone eventually became familiar without becoming understandable.
Dad talked to the phone for a few minutes, calling it “Bob.” Thor had never met Bob, but Dad often spoke of him with admiration.
Thor listened intently, knowing Dad’s verdict would hinge on this conversation. Dad told the phone what had happened on the lawn, read the piece of paper he and the Stranger had scribbled on, and a few times said, “ . . . a flop, yeah, I’m sure of it . . .”
Then the tone of his conversation changed. Dad listened, and with rising hope in his voice said, “Are you sure?” He listened again, and hope was replaced by relief, which gave way to gratitude. Whatever the phone was, it certainly possessed authority.
It had just acquitted Thor of Badness.
Dad put the phone down and sighed. All tension seemed to leave him, and he hunkered down next to Thor and leaned forward until they were almost face-to-face. Thor didn’t like looking Dad in the eye. It wasn’t his place; Dad was his superior. But Dad took Thor’s head in both hands and forced Thor to look at him.
“Listen, stupid,” Dad said earnestly, “I appreciate what you did. But you don’t appreciate how close you came to a one-way trip to the carbon monoxide room. So you’re going to have to start wearing the leash.”
Thor understood only one word of Dad’s soliloquy — LEASH.
LEASH meant he wouldn’t be allowed to run free. But it also mean he was going to the beach.
He tentatively wagged his tail, trying not to show too much of his relief. Unrestrained joy at this moment would be inappropriate, considering how close he’d come to being found guilty.
“Okay, c’mon, stupid,” Dad said, standing. Thor had no trouble understanding those familiar words.
“And try to stay out of trouble, huh?” Mom and Dad walked to the front door as Thor lay watching, pounding the floor with his tail. Dad opened the door and turned to him.
“C’mon!”
Thor ran to the door and leaped up to give Dad a wet kiss on the mouth. He knew Dad wouldn’t like it, but he just couldn’t help himself. Dad tried to dodge the kiss, but he was too late.
“Dammit, stop that!” Dad said, sputtering and laughing, and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Thor ran to the car, where the kids held the back door open for him. He jumped in and spun around to face Mom and Dad, who seemed to be taking forever to walk across the lawn. He barked at them to hurry and wagged his tail so hard that the kids had to press themselves against the opposite side of the car to avoid getting swatted.
It was going to be a glorious day after all.
Chapter 2
“I thought you were pretty impressive back there,” Janet said as the car barreled down the highway toward the Pacific Ocean.
“Right,” Tom said sarcastically, “a couple more impressive performances like that and I’ll be disbarred.”
“Why did you keep calling him ‘Flopsy’?” she asked.
“A lucky guess. I was in the living room when I saw him do something weird while you were bending over Thor. I couldn’t see what he did, but it was so sudden and jerky, it looked like he was trying to provoke ol’ brainless. So I thought he might be some kind of ‘flop.’ They’re people who throw themselves in front of cars so they can sue the owners.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No, really, it happens all the time . . . well, not all the time, but often enough for lawyers to have a name for people who do it. Flops usually do their thing at big-city street corners, preferably in the rain, so it�
��s hard for witnesses to see what happened. They wait for an expensive car to turn the corner — that way it isn’t moving very fast when it hits them, and it’s easier to claim that neither one saw the other coming. Sometimes they even break a bone in advance, so they’ll be sure to have something to sue for. It’s about as slimy as scams get. But then, there’s almost nothing people won’t do for money.
“Anyway, when I saw him waving his arm over you, I thought maybe he was working a new angle. Like maybe he’s less scared of dogs than he is of cars. I figured if he was pulling a scam, I wanted him to know I was hip to his act, so I took a chance and called him ‘Flopsy.’ And God, was I ever right. He came up with a cute angle: ‘Settle or the dog dies.’ That’s one way to keep it out of court.” Dad paused and shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe I threatened to frame him. Jesus. What if he’d called my bluff? We’d be up the you-know-what-creek without a paddle. Or at least without a dog. Anyway, it worked. Apparently. But we’re going to have to watch Thor a little closer from now on.”
“What about Monday? I thought you had a meeting scheduled in Portland.”
“I do. Bob is going to meet Mr. Scum for me, handle the whole thing. I really owe him for this. I just hope everything works out.”
“Are you kidding?” Mom said. “With Bob, the Terrible Tyrant of Torts on the case? If everything you’ve told me about him is true, I wouldn’t be surprised if Flopsy pays us to drop the matter.” Tom gave her a thin smile, but he knew she was just cheerleading. He decided to do his best to put the whole incident out of his mind, at least until the weekend was over.
They drove in silence for a mile or so and Dad said, “So how’s my favorite brother-in-law?”
“He says he’s doing fine,” Mom said. There was no need to add that she didn’t believe him. “He won’t even consider seeing a counselor. He says he knows what his problem is, and a counselor won’t help. And he was adamant that we can’t visit him.”