Chihuahua Karma

by Rice, Debby

  “Oh, Brandon, she loves those. They’re her favorite.”

  “Okay, Sugar, can you do a little dancey for me?” He held the biscuit above my head while I stood on two legs and hopped around in a circle. It was completely undignified, but I was a slave to those treats.

  “She is the cutest ever.”

  “What are you giving her?” Charmaine walked in, looking pale and deflated. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, and her hair was damp.

  “It’s just a Chi Couture biscuit,” said Brandon.

  “Well, I don’t like her to eat in between meals. She’s watching her figure. But I suppose just this once it’s okay.”

  “Listen, Charmaine, we’ve got a big problem. Something needs to be done right away.” Brandon had thrown his wet coat on the floor. He was pacing back and forth in front of the tree.

  “Brandon, I’m not feeling well,” said Charmaine, rubbing her temples. She enunciated every word very slowly. “We do not need to do anything right away.”

  “Sorry, honey. Uterus trouble? I so sympathize.”

  Charmaine paid no attention to Brandon’s inappropriate attempt at bonding. We heard the elevator door close. Then came Larry’s nasal laugh, accompanied by harsh panting and a skittering noise that sounded like a rake being dragged across the floor.

  “What are all these wire things in the foyer? Charmaine, Zoya—we have to get this shit out of the way. I got poked in the eye getting off the elevator. CJ wants to bring in the slot machine. The guys are getting it off the truck at the loading dock right now.”

  Larry came into the salon. “What happened to you, Charmaine? You look terrible.”

  “Those are not wire things. They are one-of-a-kind holiday decorations custom designed for our party by Cristoff. I showed you a sample several weeks ago, and you said you liked them.”

  “I must have been overserved.”

  “More likely overaddicted,” said Charmaine under her breath.

  CJ followed behind Larry. Then came the source of the strange noises. Viagra burst into the room, paws slipping and sliding on the marble floor. His eyes were bulging, and his fat tongue lolled out one side of his huge, blunt muzzle. He choked and sputtered, pulling Suzie, who just barely had a grasp on the straining leash. When he saw me, he shook his head, let loose with a blood-curdling howl and lunged forward, jaws snapping. I was blinded in a shower of drool. There was a wincing pain in my left hind thigh.

  “Oh, my God! What is that? Hold onto that leash, girl!” screamed Brandon, ducking behind a chair.

  Charmaine bravely stood her ground. She scooped me off the floor and clasped me to her chest. Viagra attempted to land his front paws on her stomach but Suzie yanked his collar so hard that his head snapped. She screamed, “Sit, Viagra! Sit!” He grunted, contorted his body like a bull following the cape and finally obeyed.

  “Suzie, how many times do I have to tell you to not to jerk his leash. Restrain him with your voice,” said CJ.

  “What? I’m not yelling loud enough?”

  “You can’t shout at him. He just thinks you’re crazy. You need to command.”

  “Can we save the argument about dog-training till later?” said Suzie.

  Charmaine gave them her best “fuck you” stare. “You should have a muzzle on that thing. What is it doing here anyway? Sugar could have been killed. Oh, my God, she’s bleeding.” Charmaine’s white shirt was stained with a streak of red. “Sugar can’t stop trembling. I’m afraid she’s going to have a have heart attack.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you with the dog,” said Suzie, “but I’m dropping him off at the vet, and we can’t leave him alone in the car. He tears things up.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Charmaine. She clutched me so tightly that I thought I might suffocate. I noticed that CJ had covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle a nasty smile. Charmaine might be right. My heart was pounding dangerously.

  “Let’s see, Sugar. Oh, look at that scratch on your leg. Don’t worry, honey. It’s not deep. You’re all right. Thank God, and nobody will even notice that when you’re wearing your lovely new outfit.” Charmaine rocked me in her arms and stroked my head. I wondered if I could get her to take me for another visit with Richard, but with all that was going on, it didn’t seem likely.

  “Is she okay, Charmaine? Let me see her,” said Lucille, who was glaring at Viagra.

  “She’s fine. Don’t worry. But I don’t want to put her down.”

  “Oh, look, that’s her blood dripping on the floor,” Brandon pointed to a tiny crimson droplet at Charmaine’s feet.

  “All right everyone, let’s not overreact,” said Charmaine in a moment of unusual self-restraint. “It’s just a surface wound. You know, you are all dripping wet. Couldn’t you at least take off your boots before coming inside?”

  The three of them looked at their feet simultaneously. They were covered in melting snow. Viagra’s muddy paws had left dark streaks on the wood floor. Suzie’s enormous belly was capped in white like a mountain peak.

  The intercom buzzed. “Good morning all,” said Darien. “It’s a beautiful snowy day. Mr. Cristoff is on his way up.”

  “Someone has to tell that guy we don’t need the weather report,” said Larry. “And isn’t he supposed to ask us before he lets people in?”

  There was a disastrous-sounding crash from the foyer.

  “Oh, God,” said Charmaine. “It’s the sculptures.”

  We all turned to watch Cristoff make his entrance. He was cradling a wire tree in his arms. Its akimbo branches were irreparably disfigured. Cristoff himself also looked bent out of shape. He seemed to be suffering from multi-style personalities. The white mink jacket and tam had morphed into a Tyrolean loden coat and alpine hat with a jaunty upturned brim. In place of the traditional stumpy brown pheasant feather stuck in the band there was a luxuriant blue, green and purple peacock plum. The jodhpurs remained, but the Wookiee paws had been replaced by shiny black riding boots with steel toes and heels. A leather riding crop was the new must-have accessory. The outfit was undoubtedly bespoke, because loden coats typically do not come in white.

  “Was dieser ganzer scheiße ist?” shouted Cristoff, slapping the crop against his boot.

  Larry’s eyebrows rose to his scalp. Charmaine looked incredulous. Viagra growled, and Suzie jerked his collar. Lucille chewed nervously at the end of her ponytail. Only CJ looked unfazed.

  Charmaine whispered to Brandon, “Is this some kind of S&M thing?”

  “Ever since Trudy told him he was a German military officer in a previous life, things have been really strange,” Brandon whispered back.

  “Does he know that we are a Jewish household?” said Larry to no one in particular.

  “I think he does,” said Brandon.

  “This room looks hideous. Absolutely hideous.” Cristoff shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the landscape. His face grew prunish with distaste. “What were you thinking, Charmaine? Why wasn’t I consulted on the design of this gaming equipment, and what happened to the diagram?” He tossed his head like a nervous Thoroughbred and pushed an escaped dreadlock back into the Tyrolean hat.

  “Excuse me. I think we’ll end this conversation right here,” said Larry. “You need to get your priorities straight. Can you guess what I am?” He paused for effect, stabbing his finger against his chest.

  Cristoff did not respond.

  “I am the client! I don’t give a shit what you think. If I like how this room looks, then you better like it too.”

  “Well, I thought Charmaine wanted an upscale event. If that’s not the case… fine. Then I guess you don’t need me. I have a very sensitive eye, and it can only take so much abuse. I actually think I may lose my lunch just looking at this mess.” Cristoff swept the riding crop around the room. He put his hand on his hip, did a runway pivot, hesitating for an instant as if waiting for the red carpet to unroll, and catwalked toward the door, dragging the bent tree behind him.

  �
�Hold on a minute, mister tight ass,” said Larry. “You’re not outta here yet. I seem to remember writing you a big fat check.”

  “Don’t worry. Brandon and Jared can handle things.” Cristoff didn’t turn around. There was a death rattle from the wire trees in the foyer, presumably the result of being kicked with steel-toed boots. Then we heard the elevator door hiss closed.

  “That little asshole. Does he know that the Nazis liked the schvartzes even less than they liked Jews?”

  “Now look what you’ve done. This party is going to be a mess. Who’s going to manage the caterers?” Charmaine’s face was red. A vein above her eye was throbbing.

  “Charmaine, there’s something you seem to have forgotten over the last few months,” said Larry, flashing her a toothy smile.

  “Oh, and what is that?”

  “Barney’s is just down the street, and you’re on the fast track back there.”

  “Come on, Sugar. We don’t need this. Let him organize his own damn Christmas party.”

  “Lucille, why don’t you go with her? We’re going to be busy here,” said Larry.

  “I could help,” said Lucille. “I’m good at organizing.”

  “Nope, we’re going to be moving heavy items, and the big dog’s gonna be around a little longer. I don’t want any more accidents.”

  Charmaine’s eyes filled with tears. She tucked me under her arm, and we left the room, followed by Lucille. We were exiled, banished from the kingdom.

  Chapter 23

  “If there be nothing new, but that which is

  Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,

  Which, laboring for invention, bear amiss

  The second burden of a former child!”

  Shakespeare, Sonnet 59

  “Suggie, how did this happen to me? And that awful Cristoff… so bossy. Why didn’t anyone warn me before I paid him so much money? Nobody truly cares about me. I can tell Mommy doesn’t want me to go to Disney World with them.”

  My fur was soaked. Charmaine had been crying for over an hour. Every once in while she dabbed me off with a Kleenex, but her tears were prodigious.

  “Charmaine, you haven’t eaten anything,” said Lucille. “Would you like me to make you some eggs?” Lucille, who had no parents and more than enough reasons for tears, had been cast in the role of mom. She had tried various tactics to calm her inconsolable child. I could tell Charmaine’s misery upset Lucille and reminded her of her own perilous situation.

  “All right,” Charmaine said to Lucille. “Maybe that would be a good idea. Do you think you can bring me a tray? I really don’t want to go out of this room. I might see him.”

  “But you’re going to see him at the party tonight.”

  “Maybe I won’t go.”

  “You have to go. It’s your party. You worked so hard on it.”

  “Yes, I guess I will, and Richard’s coming. I don’t want to miss him. But I’m waiting until after everyone’s here. Then I’ll make my entrance. Of course, with this storm, maybe no one will come.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll come.” Lucille handed Charmaine a Kleenex. “Okay, I’m going to make you some breakfast. Would you like to watch Jewel’s Revenge?”

  “No, I think I’ll just turn on the shopping channel.” Charmaine blew her nose loudly and grabbed the remote. She took her cell phone out of her pants pocket. “Come on, Suggie, maybe we’ll see something very expensive that we can charge to Larry’s AmEx. How would you like a velvet collar sprinkled with bling? Wouldn’t that make my Suggie Woogie look beauuutiful?” She shook the remote at the TV. “Or maybe Mommy and Suggie will book a spa day.” She held me up to her face and kissed me on the nose. “You really are my onliest friend, baby doggie.”

  It was scary how accustomed I had become to being dangled, petted, smothered in kisses and made to dance on my hind legs. Rationality was dissolving like an Alka-Seltzer tablet into doggie enthusiasm. Soon my ability to think might be forever submerged in the overwhelming desire to please.

  The shopping channel blared. Shiny-lipped middle-aged women with multiple tummy rolls hawked youth in a squeeze bottle. Charmaine compulsively petted my head. I watched the snow accumulate on the window ledge and wished for tears. I’d wanted to wail with Charmaine for our mutual losses.

  “Okay, here’s breakfast,” said Lucille, assuming the phony, optimistic tone that adults use to cajole pouting children. She set a tray down on the coffee table. Scrambled eggs, bacon, buttered toast and strawberry jam were laid out on my mother’s favorite Limoges china, unearthed from some remote corner of the kitchen. There was a steaming cup of coffee. Someone should bottle the scent of Big American Breakfast. All kinds of miserable people would be dabbing it on their wrists for a quick fix of “feel better.” Lucille had folded a white linen napkin into a reasonable facsimile of a rose. A crystal bud vase contained one perfect ivory example of the real thing, probably borrowed from a floral delivery for the party. All Lucille’s hopes for a last-minute rescue from the Pattersons were served up in this meal. My mouth was watering. I scratched Charmaine’s sleeve with my paw.

  “Now, Suggie, don’t be impatient. You’ll get yours. You know our rule. Mommy tastes first.”

  Charmaine took a farmer-sized forkful of eggs and a mouthful of toast. Then she gulped down half the coffee.

  “You were so right, Lucille. I really needed to eat.” She lifted a strip of bacon off her plate, broke off a morsel, gave it to me and stuffed the rest in her mouth. I wagged my tail and licked Lucille’s hand to make up for Charmaine’s missing “thank you.”

  “What a beautiful plate! It looks like an antique. The border is real gold leaf. And look at the gorgeous hand-painted design. Where did it come from, Lucille? I didn’t know Larry had anything like this.”

  “Isn’t it pretty? I found it in the pantry. I think it belonged to Cherry,” said Lucille.

  It had been so long since anyone spoke my name. The sensation was comforting and extremely painful, like remembering a lost friendship.

  “What was she like?” Charmaine wiped her greasy mouth with the rose napkin.

  “Okay, I guess. But she didn’t really talk to me much,” said Lucille. “She used to bring me desserts when she and Larry went out to dinner, and sometimes she’d buy me little things. She was the one who told me my mom died. She was really nice to me that day. I invited her to my gymnastics meets, but she never came.”

  I nuzzled Lucille’s leg. It was hard to believe that there was a time when she didn’t matter to me, but the proof was her blank expression. I was never one of those optimists who believed that life’s unpredictable calamities, even cancer and death, happened for a reason. But the fact that I was more important to Lucille as a dog than I had been as a person could be construed as that kind of karmic quid pro quo.

  Charmaine turned down the volume on the shopping channel. She leaned forward and whispered, “Larry never talks about her. Were you here when she died? Tell me about what happened.” This was a forbidden story that she was longing to hear.

  “She fell off the terrace. They said she killed herself. She seemed like she was very sad.”

  “Really? Why do you think she was so unhappy?”

  “I don’t know. Zoya said it was drugs. She drank a lot of wine. Larry didn’t seem very sad. At least not like I was after my mom died.”

  Charmaine’s selective memory was truly incredible. She had chosen to forget all about sleeping with my husband. There was one strip of bacon left on her plate. I leaned over and snatched it. Then I jumped off the couch, ran under Lucille’s bed and gobbled it up. It is the best piece of bacon I ever ate.

  “Sugar, what’s the matter with you? Bad, bad dog!”

  “Wow, I wonder why she did that?” said Lucille.

  “Come out from under there, you bad girl,” said Charmaine.

  I growled.

  “Don’t you growl at me. If you don’t come out, I’m getting the broom!” Charmaine screamed. The events o
f last night and this morning had put her over the top.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean to do that,” said Lucille. “She probably couldn’t resist. The plate was right next to her nose.”

  “Oh, you’re right. Sugar’s always such a good girl. It’s terrible to yell at her. I’m just so stressed.” Charmaine turned the volume on the TV back up. “I know what will make me feel better. We’ll go see Santa.”

  “You know, I never told anyone this, but I still believe in Santa,” said Lucille. “He brought Sugar to us. But I think the Santa in the store doesn’t have any powers, and I think I might be too old to go to see him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I know I made fun of you about Santa, but that was only because I didn’t want you to have unrealistic expectations. You’re really never too old for Santa. Besides, I’ve never been to see Santa. I asked Larry if he would take me, and he laughed at me like I was crazy.”

  “Didn’t your parents take you when you were little?”

  “No, Lucille. We’re Jewish. I told you that.”

  “When I wanted to go, my mom said that he’s just some old guy who needs a holiday job,” said Lucille. “And it’s snowing really hard,”

  “All the more reason. We’ll catch the holiday spirit. Let’s take a taxi over to Marshall Field’s.”

  “It’s Macy’s now.”

  “I know that. It just never seems right to me. Go get the coats.”

  “Which coats should I bring?”

  “Get my sable with the hood and Suggie’s little rabbit jacket, tam and booties. Oh, and try to go in our bedroom and get my black Prada satchel to carry Suggie. And no matter what, do not let Larry see you. If he asks what you’re doing, say nothing.”

  “Okay,” said Lucille.

  “Suggie, come out from under the bed, please. Mommy isn’t mad anymore. She is so sorry. She didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  I was nestled in the carpeting, enjoying the cozy undersea atmosphere and watching Charmaine’s feet move about through the space between the floor and the dust ruffle. I whimpered pathetically and waited for a few minutes, savoring her anxiety. Then I crawled out slowly, head down, tail between my legs.