KC Frantzen - May the K9 Spy 01 - May on the Way: How I Become a K9 Spy

by KC Frantzen

  I don’t like to admit it but…He’s right. Better go out. Flap, flap.

  Hans is waiting. “You’re jealous of a baby, a sick one at that?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Well what? You need to understand. People come and go around here. There’s enough love for everyone. We made room for you, didn’t we? Our home is open for those in need. Most don’t stay. You, I think, are, but I wouldn’t push it.” He gives me the saddest look and noses back through the flap.

  April mutters something through the fence, but I can’t quite hear it.

  Time crawls by. Finally I decide to peer in. All I hear is Hans, snoring. The room is dark. I venture inside and curl up next to Lobbie, and try to sleep.

  Huh? Yawn. Human voices.

  Hans raises his head too, but briefly. Mom’s bare footsteps get closer. Okay good, I’m ready to take my position, after Mom invites me in of course. She arrives carrying the small box with LJ. Sniff. He smells peculiar.

  Dad appears with a blue pad, cord attached, and sets it in the box, then puts it all on the dryer. Mom tenderly places Lucky Jack inside too.

  Sniff. There’s definitely a different aroma now. It’s LJ but…there’s something more…Sniff. Sniff, sniff. I sit down, puzzled. This smell isn’t ever good…Except to roll in.

  Dad and Mom stand by the dryer then Mom says, “I feel awful, but I can’t stand the gasping any more. See the bubbles? It’s terrible to die all alone, you know?”

  “I know Babe, but he isn’t. His tummy is full and warm and he knows he’s been loved, even during his short life.” Dad puts his arm around Mom again.

  “Bye little fella. I love you.”

  I think she is petting him. They look pitiful. I used to try and comfort Woman when she looked like that, though she never acknowledged my effort. Maybe they will be different.

  I chance it and inch forward several more steps. But they walk out, shutting the door behind them. The light goes off and I hear the bedroom door close.

  I don’t get it. I’m trying to learn the lesson here but it’s hard.

  I lie down and put my head on my paws to think. One thing’s for sure, I agree with Mom. The gasping is terrible. Not sure if I can sleep.

  I awake with a start. Something is very wrong. Sniff, sniff. And it’s so quiet. After awhile, Dad comes in and checks the box. He wipes something from his face and unplugs the cord.

  I’m sure you’ll ask me to go with you this time. Must have been an oversight before.

  But he leaves me in the dark.

  Dad and Mom are unusually quiet before breakfast. I bring toys, one by one, even Lobbie. But they don’t want to play. I join Hans basking in the warm sunshine. In spite of my best efforts to entice him with a game of fetch, he seems preoccupied and ignores me.

  It smells fresh after the rain. Which means, no trail left. But I’m hopeful I can still find the shed. Sometime.

  The garage door opens and April appears from around the corner. Dad carries the small shovel to the dirt and flowers next to the flagpole. April assumes position nearby to stand watch. When Dad begins to dig I wonder if I can assist (and maybe make up for the shredding). Besides, digging in the damp ground looks like fun. But something’s really bothering him.

  I start that way, but then the back door opens. It’s Mom. Her shoulders are heaving, she’s crying so hard. I’m startled to see Hans up and walking quickly.

  “Where ya goin’?”

  “To be near Mom. You’re smart. You figure it out.”

  She looks miserable, holding the Lucky Jack bundle. I’d better be with her instead of helping Dad. April’s with him and Mom needs me more.

  She sobs, “Hey Hans…May, I’m glad you found LJ…At least his last hours were as comfortable as we could make them.”

  He’s really gone isn’t he? I’m very sorry.

  Dad takes the shrouded bundle and sets it gently into the deep hole. When he rubs his face, his hand is wet. Then he shovels the dirt back in, like he’s burying a treasure. He sighs. “The first grave at our new home.”

  Mom nods and sobs again. Then she opens the yard gate to let us out. Hans stays nearby as she picks me up and gives me a squeeze. “We sure hoped Lucky Jack would make it.”

  Wish I could make things better, Mom. I’ll just – Thlbp – kiss your salty tear away.

  She hugs me again. “Th-thank you, May. Oh Hon. I miss him already.”

  Dad tamps the dirt flat. “I do too. He was a fine rabbit, but it was his time.” Dad sees the stream pouring out of Mom’s eyes and pulls out a tissue.

  I’ll take care of her. Thllbbpp.

  Using it himself, he says, “We’re glad we got to know you, Lucky Jack. We were blessed to ease your suffering. May you rest peacefully.”

  And right here in the morning air, Dad and Mom start singing a song. Hans too. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”

  Mom squishes me while she sings. I think she is trying to show love. But for me or Lucky Jack? Maybe both. I can hardly breathe and my head is getting wet but I won’t shake it off. Wouldn’t be proper.

  After the fourth repeat, I know the tune well. Their words end “…We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, than when we first begun.” When they finish, Mom gives me an extra squish, then we stand quietly, watching the flag cloth catch the breeze, the sunlight dancing across its stars and stripes. It is beautiful. But I don’t know why we are staring at it.

  Finally Dad says, “Freedom. May we never take it for granted.” I know I won’t. (But what a strange thing to say after staring at a cloth.)

  Mom sets me down and motions Hans and me in the gate. He stands in the full sun observing their every move, but I find a place in the shade. Dad rearranges the little pieces of wood over the dirt, then April comes up for a pat before setting out on patrol. Mom reaches for Dad’s hand and they slowly walk back towards the garage.

  I start to say something to Hans but I hear flap flap as he goes inside, leaving me alone.

  Out of nowhere, a thought. Mother was right! “A prepared puppy is ready when opportunity is provided.”

  Look what’s happened. I’m not locked up in some old stinky crate in fear for my life. I’ve had some adventures, and even helped rescue somebody. There’s lots of living to do! I have a real home (I think), a fresh opportunity with a real family. And freedom! It’s my choice how I use it, though I still don’t know my purpose.

  I sniff stories on the breeze a moment.

  One thing for sure, I should start thinking of others first. I was so angry yesterday! But it didn’t solve anything, not really. Hans didn’t mind LJ getting all the attention. Now he’s gone. Shudder. His gasping kept me awake long into the night. Awful! But the silence was worse…

  Sorrow has to be part of “dying,” that and pain. Even Dad and Mom were in pain. But it was different. I didn’t like it, seeing them like that. Maybe I can keep my family from heartache. That can be my purpose! But I’m only a small dog. What could I ever do?

  I roll over to scratch my back and spy a shimmering hummingbird zing past, on her way to the feeder. She’s free to do as she pleases, and so am I! And I’m going to have a better attitude, because, after all, it is my choice.

  I get up and stretch each back leg then shake it off, ready to comfort them if I can. As I hop through the doggie door, the telephone device rings.

  I jog down the hall and find Dad in the office – talking into the phone, and laughing?

  They’ve been busier these past two days but this morning, they won’t play at all. Dad and April are tinkering in the yard. Mom’s been scurrying around, stashing my toys. Now she’s cleaning, using a noisy device she calls “vacuum.” Hans just attacked it for the third time.

  As he retreats I ask, “Hans, what’s going on? Wanna play? I’ve brought out my…uh…your ball, and my bear, and Lobbie but Mom keeps putting them away.”

  Keeping his eyes on the vacuum, he says, “I hate that thing. Have since I first heard it. It�
�s loud and Mom walks all over the house with it. I can’t rest.”

  “It does have an evil look. I don’t like it, but I’m not going to attack.”

  “Mom thinks it’s some kind of game. She seems to like it when I do.”

  I shake my head. “Odd.”

  Mom moves it to the dining room, shifting chairs from under the table. Hans finally sits. “I don’t know why she thinks it’s fun. But something special is up when she spends this much time with it. Hey! We get visitors!”

  “We do?”

  “Remember after they buried Lucky Jack? Mom was quite upset. I tried to comfort her and even rested my chin on her lap. But now that I think about it, Mom was feeling better later, after Dad was talking and laughing on the phone. And you know what else? I think I heard him talking about where you came from.”

  “They’re not sending me back!”

  “Nothing like that. You’re home is with us. But when he was talking about you, Dad thought something was strange about those humans.”

  “And cruel.”

  The din from the vacuum motor becomes deafening so I follow him to the utility room. He lap laps from the water bowl, and seems lost in his thoughts.

  “Hans? Are you listening? I said a phone call can change your life. It sure did mine.”

  Suddenly he jerks his head up, whiskers dripping. “Got it! Miss Sandy and Sassy are coming! That’s who Dad was talking to on the phone. Woofff!” With a far away, longing look he adds, “I love Miss Sandy.” He climbs into his bed, and begins washing his paws. Then, he surprises me with his ferocity. “She’s mine, remember that. You play with Sassy. Leave Miss Sandy to me.”

  “Righty-o!” (But if I want to play with her, I will. Whoever she is.) “Hey Hans. Who’s Miss Sandy? And who’s Sassy?”

  He turns his foot over to clean between the pads. “She’s a friend of theirs from way back. They used to go to church together.”

  “Church?”

  “Yeah, where they go to learn about the Creator. I think it’s mostly things we already know. Miss Sandy is always so kind to me. I love everything about her. She’s beautiful, she smells good, she never makes me walk in front of her, she holds me any time I want. We even sing together. She has a beautiful voice.” He looks into the distance a moment, then continues grooming. “I’ve missed her.”

  This is puppy love for sure, but Hans is grown. “How come I’ve never met her? And who’s Sassy?”

  “She used to live near us in the city, but now we live here. I didn’t think we’d ever meet again but she’s coming – I know it! And I need to look my best. I don’t mind a groom when Miss Sandy is coming to see me.”

  “But who is Sassy?”

  We walk to the rug by the front door and I’m hopeful he’ll answer. But he doesn’t. He starts working on his back paws, with special attention to his nails. I try to nod politely while he prattles on about Miss Sandy. But the more he talks, the more questions I have. And he still hasn’t told me about Sassy.

  It’s useless.

  I see no point to the whole vacuum thing either, though at least Mom thinks it’s a game. Game! I know! Since she put away the vacuum, maybe we can play!

  I trot to retrieve my favorite toy from the pantry basket then go to find her, which isn’t difficult. I hear her with a can that sprays. She shakes it, points it at the table, and squirts so a mist goes everywhere (and makes me want to sneeze). Then she wipes it all off. Strange.

  I sit and hold Lobbie by the antennas.

  “May, I’m dusting. No time to play with you and Lobbie. Give it to me. Good girl. Company’s coming and we need to get things picked up. I’ll put it right here so we know where it is. I still need to get the veggies cut. Dad’s going to grill tonight.”

  “Okayyy.” I trot down the hallway but when I pass the toy basket I remember Mom didn’t say anything about my ball. (Well, Hans’ ball, but now it’s mine.) I return and place it carefully near her feet, while she’s dusting the shelves. But she doesn’t notice. So I look at her, then at my ball.

  Mom. Ball. Mom. Ball. Mom. Ball.

  After half an eternity, she still hasn’t noticed. Better give it a nudge. It bounces and bumps her foot.

  “May, you’re a clown in a doggie body. Not now I said.”

  I’ll try my pitiful look. Ha! It’s working. A moment more – YES!

  “May-Muffin, you are something. Okay, you win. I’ll take a quick break and have a cup of tea. We can play while I tell you about Sandy and Sassy. They’ll be our overnight guests! You’ll need to use your very best manners.”

  Good! But Mom, what will happen if I don’t use my best ones?

  I snatch the ball and trail Mom while she finishes dusting and puts the supplies away. We go into the kitchen, and I watch hopefully while she heats the water for her chamomile tea (smells like weeds to me) and sorts the “garden fresh veggies.”

  Sniff. My ears stand at attention when she breaks off a piece of celery. Celery and carrots and cucumbers! I’m a good taste-tester.

  “Yes you are. Here you go. Does it pass inspection?”

  Nice crunch. But better with a dollop of ranch dressing.

  Finally Mom invites me onto the screen porch. There’s Dad and April, still working in the yard.

  “Hey Hon, want some tea?”

  “Nope. Thanks. Apey and I are almost done with the sprinklers. Just the edging and that’s it. I’ll get some then.”

  “I’m taking a quick break. All that’s left to do is make up the guest bed, then cut the veggies. The weather’s nice. We should open a few windows, don’t you think?”

  “Sounds good! Be there in a few.”

  Mom settles into the rocker and takes a sip. We begin toss and fetch as she starts. “Sandy’s a great friend whose been transferred to Washington, D.C. It’s a long drive so she and Sassy are making a stop here on the way. I’m so glad!” Mom reaches down but I grab the ball and set it barely out of reach. “Give me the ball, May. I can’t play if you won’t give it to me. Let me have it.”

  True. I’ll nudge it closer for your convenience.

  “Good girl. It’s for one night, but we’ll take it. She said they have to be at work day after tomorrow. It’s been quite awhile since we’ve seen them in person, though we keep up with Sandy by email and phone sometimes too.”

  Mom sips more tea. “I need to give my arm a rest. Come up on the bench. Good girl.”

  I’ll keep the ball ready in my mouth, just in case.

  “Sandy came another time to visit us, when Dad and I were living in eastern Venezuela, along the coast. We moved there with Dad’s old company, for about a year. That’s when we found Sassy. Or rather, Sassy found us!”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Dad took the car to work that morning so Sandy and I went walking up the mountain. We were about half way when a poor pink, black and white dog appeared from nowhere. She wagged her tail so hard, her entire body shook. And she was smiling. We couldn’t believe that smile even though she’d lost a lot of her hair and her skin was full of mange. She was terribly thin.”

  Awful! At least I was fed.

  “One of her flopped black ears had a missing piece too, torn away from a fight. She was a street dog. Like April. Except the conditions were much, much harsher. We’ll never really know what she went through but what a great attitude.”

  Mom sets down her cup and looks into my eyes. “Kind of like you in a way. You’re hopeful too, aren’t you?”

  Yes. And persistent. When they come, we can take a walk and I can find that shed and show it to all of you. But while you’re talking, can we please play?

  “Give me the ball, but keep listening. We tried to ignore her because there was no way to do anything about her. Or that’s what we thought. I mean, Sandy was in the area on business from the States and decided to take a few days holiday. Dad and I lived in a small apartment which didn’t allow pets. There were perros de calle – street dogs – all over. We couldn’t rescu
e all of them! It was hard to keep walking and ignore her.

  “When we made it to the top and looked out over the ocean, what a scene! Billowing white clouds, calm blue-green water, salty hot breeze. The bad thing was, people would enjoy the sights, then drop their trash. Sad to think it was too much trouble for them to toss it into a bin.”

  Mom sips a bit more tea and after a few false starts, pitches the ball, trying to fake me out. I arc mid-air and catch it, then trot right back.

  “Good one! Anyway, Sandy and I both jumped when we heard whack whack whack. There were two older men dumping out some plastic soda bottles, then whacking them onto the curb to remove the last drops. You see, many people were extremely poor. These men collected bottles then took them to a recycling center and got a little money.

  “Out of nowhere, our four-footed friend burst from the bushes, flashing her teeth, short hair raised across her shoulders. She demanded they leave us alone, in no uncertain terms. And we didn’t even know she was keeping watch. Isn’t that something? She took it upon herself to protect us, even when we ignored her. She was extremely brave.”

  I’m brave too.

  Mom pats me, then takes another sip. “Sandy and I decided right then, we couldn’t leave her. She came to us when we called. Sandy picked her up and carried her all the way down.

  “When we took our protector to the vet to check her out, he knew her! Called her Jude. Said he hadn’t seen her in awhile and figured the lady who had previously gotten her off the street had moved. Or something.

  “Well, here was this fabulous girl who needed a home. She and Sandy were a match!”

  Kinda like me, huh Mom.

  “Kinda like you. Sandy said, ‘I’ll call you Sassy’ and that was that. In three days, Sassy had a carrier, her doggie passport and health certificate, a plane ticket and a new home. Alright, give me the ball.”