by Diana Orgain
“That sounds like fun,” Maeve beamed. “I’d love to go. You can introduce me to everyone.”
“I’ll introduce you to Officer Joseph Mont, in particular,” Gracie said with an over-exaggerated wink.
“Would you please stop?” Maeve said, but she couldn’t help chuckle at Gracie’s goofy grin.
Suddenly, Penny squealed and came running over to the table. “Ms. O’Dare,
you didn’t tell us you had a dog!”
Maeve raised a brow.
A dog?
It was a completely out-of-the-blue statement.
“Um ... I don’t own a dog, Penny.”
Penny laughed as though she thought Maeve was joking with her. “Um, yes you do. It’s in your car.”
Maeve and Gracie exchanged glances.
“I don’t own a dog,” Maeve assured them, pulling herself out of the rickety chair and crossing to the window where Penny had been doing her drawings. “Oh my goodness, there really is a dog in my car!”
They raced out of the building and toward Maeve’s Volkswagen. A large, brown shaggy dog was seated in the passenger’s seat of her car, panting.
“I’m confused,” Maeve said, as she stared at the filthy looking canine. “I locked my car.” She looked around the empty parking lot, expecting to see a giggly teenager poke his or her head around a corner somewhere to admire the unusual prank, but she saw no one.
“Are you sure you locked it, Maeve?” Gracie asked.
“I think so ...” Maeve second guessed herself. She opened up the passenger’s side door. “All right, come on out. Shoo.” The dog tilted its head slightly and perked up at her, but it didn’t move. “Go on, get!” Maeve said, but the dog’s ears merely twitched.
Gracie and Penny burst out laughing. “What a funny little fella,” Gracie said. “Where did it come from?”
“I have no idea. Do either of you recognize it?” Maeve asked.
“Never seen it before,” Gracie said with a shrug. “Must have wandered into town. Someone’s probably missing it.”
“Can we keep him?” Penny squealed.
“Your mother would kill me if I let you bring home a dog,” Gracie scolded.
“Actually, Penny, he is a she. It’s a girl,” Maeve said, attempting to drag the dog out of the car, but it leaned back away from her and then hopped into the driver’s seat to escape.
“Can I name her?” Penny asked.
“Okay, pooch, you’ve got to go,” Maeve said, crawling into her car to pull the dog out. The dog pressed itself against her driver’s side window, and Maeve sighed as she retreated from the car. “Sure, Penny,” Maeve said, making her way around to the driver’s side.
“I like Wanda,” Penny said. “Can we call her Wanda?”
“Wanda it is then,” Maeve said. “All right, Wanda, you’ve got to go. You’re shedding all over my car.” She flung open the driver’s side door, only to have the dog instantly hop over to the passenger’s seat again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Gracie, help me out, would you?”
“What are you going to do with it once you get it out? It’s obviously lost,” Gracie argued.
Maeve let out a loud sigh. “I don’t know. She’s got to belong to someone.”
“It’s too fat to be a stray,” Gracie suggested. “Someone’s been feeding her.”
“Is there a pound I can take her to?” Maeve asked.
Gracie shook her head. “Nearest animal shelter is about an hour’s drive—“
Maeve sighed. “Well ... it’s too late for that today. Maybe I’ll keep her overnight—”
The dog barked happily and shook its tail.
Maeve pointed a warning finger at the dog. “Don’t get too excited, pup. I’ll call the pound in the morning.”
The dog’s tail sagged and she let out a mournful yelp that tugged at Maeve’s heart.
“Looks like Wanda wants to stay with you,” Gracie teased. “I bet she’d be a cutie if she had a bath and got trimmed.”
Maeve held up her hand. “I’m not in the market for a pet right now. I don’t even know if my landlord will allow it.”
“Whatever you say,” Gracie said, “But I think you like her!” She ushered Penny over to her pickup truck and they both waved as they climbed in.
Maeve slipped into her car, shooing the dog into the passenger’s seat. As she started the engine, she turned to look at the dog. The dog wagged her tail and looked so content to be with Maeve, that for the first time in a long time, Maeve felt inexplicably happy.
Chapter Two
Chuck
My legs and feet ache, and I’m pretty sure I smell like rotten fish. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve been around fish, but all this fur makes a smell stay with you. I’ve been walking for six days straight, and the most I’ve eaten is some pizza I found in an alley behind a bar, not even a good pizza parlor. Never in my life have I ever imagined I would be dumpster diving for a meal! I used to be somebody.
I’ve been looking for someone–no one in particular–just someone ... anyone, who can help me. My situation is both dire and, I suppose, slightly comical, depending on the way you look at it. I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for yet, but I suppose I will know it when I see it. I miss my bed back home in LA. My big, comfy king sized bed with the satin sheets imported from Taiwan. My in-home hot tub. I miss being within walking distance of all the five star restaurants–being only a short drive from Beverly Hills. Is this really my life now? Leftover pizza crust and begging for scraps?
I’m not exactly sure why I left Los Angeles. I knew I needed to find someone specific–the witchy woman who did this to me told me that, but now I find myself walking along the side of the highway like a hobo hitchhiker. Today alone, I must have walked at least ten miles already; I certainly turned down the wrong highway because there has not been anything for miles. Just one long stretch of road–an occasional car speeding by, completely ignoring my presence. Do any of these drivers see my desperation?
Probably not.
I know I wouldn’t have noticed if it had been me behind the wheel.
Up ahead, I finally spot a road sign. I pray that it is a sign that civilization is near because I’m starving. An enormous sign reads, “Welcome to Wisteria Pines,” and I pick up the pace. Something about this place seems right already. Maybe I can get something to eat here.
I press on, and before I know it, I am in the middle of this gaggingly adorable little town in the foothills. Locals are all running about today on the Main Square–chatting and laughing among themselves. It’s one of those everybody-knows-your-name type towns. I try to remain unnoticed for the time being as I take a moment to observe the people.
“Fresh picked strawberries!” a street vendor calls out. I look to see a little market area where locals are selling their goods. Cute. I feel like I’m in an old movie or in Mayberry with Andy Griffith. The man behind the booth is an elderly man–I can tell he’s a farmer. He’s got all sorts of food out in front of him, and my stomach growls.
“Morning, Mr. Ether,” a young boy dressed in all black approaches the booth.
“Morning, Donnie,” the farmer smiles, but there is an uneasiness behind that smile.
“I heard you had a bunch of new calves born last week,” Donnie said.
The old farmer grins. “That I did. There were four of them. A set of twins. Do you have any idea how rare it is for a cow to have twins? I’ve been farming my entire life and hadn’t ever seen it, not once. I’m going to be in the local paper over it. One of them babies was breech, and we about lost it. My granddaughter wound up naming the twins. I always tell her to never name the cows, but you know how she is. I’ve decided I’m gonna raise up them twins as breeders–keep them around for a while. They sure are something special.”
I watch with a keen eye while the farmer went on and on about his twin cows. The little punk is swiping a peach right out from under the poor old man’s nose. I mean, truthfully, I was thinking about doing the same thing
, but I’m not about to let this kid pull one over on the old farmer. He looks like a spoiled punk whose mom probably paid for the designer jeans he’s wearing, so I know he’s scheming for a thrill, not because he’s starving for a peach.
I get a glimpse of myself in a mirror of a shop and sigh. I miss walking on two legs. The dirty fuzz ball staring back at me in the reflection makes me sick to my stomach. I look back at the kid, Donnie, and do what only a dog can do.
I start yapping. Ugh, even my bark is kind of lame. I’m a big dog, but jeez, I sound like an oversized Chihuahua.
Both Donnie and Mr. Ether look my way as I approach. The old man chuckles. “Is that yours?” he asks.
I keep barking at Donnie.
“Um ... no.” Donnie takes a step back. “Ew, it stinks! Beat it! Shoo!”
You don’t smell so great yourself, kid.
I lunge forward and show my teeth; he stumbles over backwards as Mr. Ether runs around waving his cane. I’m pretty sure he intends to hit me with it, so I back off and lie down on the ground.
I whine.
Mr. Ether raises a brow. I stand up, let out a friendly bark, and look right at Donnie and then back at him. Mr. Ether follows my gaze toward Donnie, and spots the peach right as it rolls out of the kid’s front sweatshirt pocket onto the ground. Mr. Ether swings his cane and nails Donnie on his shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Donnie!” Mr. Ether shouts.
“That hurt!” Donnie jumps up, and the old man smacks him again in the side.
“Get out of here before I call your parents!” Mr. Ether says, raising his cane.
Donnie crouches and says, “If you hit me one more time, I’ll call the cops!”
“I’ll call your parole officer if you don’t beat it!” Mr. Ether threatens.
Ha! I knew he was a punk.
Donnie runs off, and Mr. Ether picks up the peach. He smiles at me, pats my head, and wanders around the back of his booth. “Come here, girl,” he says.
I roll my eyes. Come on, man. I know I’m a dog, but I’m not a lady.
He’s cutting up the peach that Donnie tried to steal, so I ignore the girl comment and hurry over. He tosses me cut up peaches, and I devour them.
“You sure are hungry,” he says. “Who do you belong to?”
I let out a little whimper, but, of course, he doesn’t understand me. He only pats me on the head again.
I wind up staying with this guy for a few hours. As customers approach the booth, he asks each person if they recognize me. No one does.
Sorry, old man, I’m an out of towner.
I stay only because he keeps tossing me a little something to eat. I know I have a mission I need to get back to, but I don’t exactly know where my next meal will be coming from, so a friendly old man with a giant cart of food in front of him is hard to leave.
“Gross,” one woman says, pinching her nose after buying some strawberries. “Mr. Ether, you need to give that thing a bath. That can’t be good for business.”
“You know the cows are my real business. This is only a hobby for a little extra cash,” he says, with a wink, and tosses me a strawberry. “Never known a dog to like fruit so much. Maybe I should take her to my farm and see if I can train her.”
Again with the her? Man, just check! Man, I’m a dog—it’s not exactly concealed.
The woman gives me one of the grapes she bought. I eat it. She laughs, “My dog can’t eat grapes. He has a hard time chewing them.”
The farmer talks with the woman for a while longer before she leaves, and soon he is half asleep in his chair. I begin to wander around, realizing I’m not going to be getting much food from the guy if he’s asleep. I get too close to the street, and out of nowhere this purple Volkswagen beetle comes charging at me. I yelp and jump out of the way; I can’t help but bark in its direction, and then I catch a glimpse of the driver.
She’s gorgeous. A strawberry blonde with big eyes, dimples, and perky breasts. In addition to being a looker, there is something oddly familiar about her.
Perhaps she’s the one I need to find?
Sorry, Mr. Ether, but I’ve got a gal to catch!
The car is far ahead of me, but running on all fours does have its advantages. Plus, its’ a small town, so even if I lose her, it’s not like it’s going to be hard to find a purple Volkswagen. I don’t imagine there are too many of those around here. It looks like every other person here drives a truck, so this little beetle sticks out.
Luckily for me, Miss Looker doesn’t have far to go. She pulls up in front of this abandoned building in this large parking lot. I keep my distance for the time being, taking a moment to observe her. She’s here meeting a friend, it seems. I watch as she interacts with her taller companion and a young girl. After a moment, the three of them head inside the empty building.
I strut across the parking lot and begin my investigation. I sniff around her car, and a familiar scent tickles my nose.
Magic.
There is magic here! Beautiful, wonderful magic! Perhaps this is why I felt called to come this way? Is this stranger the one who can help me? Maybe so. Time to make my move.
I head to the passenger’s side of the car and let out a gentle yelp. The door unlocks and opens, and I’m able to climb in. The door closes on its own, and I begin my waiting game. The witchy woman who did this to me was kind enough to leave some traces of magic for me, but I swear, it only works half the time.
I sigh. This is my life now. A dog that can turn a few heads with a silly magic trick.
At least I got in the car. Now I’ll just have to see how the woman reacts to it. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a way to communicate with her.
I wait around for a while. I can’t imagine what they could possibly be doing in an empty building for so long. At last, I see the door open, and the two women and the young girl come pouring out into the parking lot.
“I’m confused,” says Gorgeous as she looks at me from behind the glass window of the car.
I try to look adorable; women love cute dogs, right? I wag my tail.
“I locked my car,” she says and then starts looking around the parking lot.
No, honey, no one put me in here.
“Are you sure you locked it, Maeve?” the tall woman asks, looking just as confused as Gorgeous, whose name is apparently Maeve.
“I think so ...” she says as she opens the passenger’s side door. “All right, come on out. Shoo!”
Well, that was not exactly the greeting I was hoping for.
Come on, man, look cute.
I perk up slightly and tilt my head–I let my tail pick up speed too. I can see her fighting off a grin as she adds, “Go on, get!”
The other woman and the girl are both laughing. “What a funny little fella,” the tall woman says. “Where did it come from?”
Hollywood, doll-face. That’s where.
“I have no idea. Do either of you recognize it?” Maeve, Miss Gorgeous, asks.
“Never seen it before. Must have wandered into town. Someone’s probably missing it.”
“Can we keep him?” the little one pipes up.
Um, no, sweetie, you can’t. Trying to go home with cutie over here.
“Your mother would kill me if I let you bring home a dog,” the tall woman says with a slight huff in her voice. She looks at me with her nose turned up a bit.
Okay, I get it. Believe me, you are not the only one who has informed me I stink today.
“Actually, Penny, he is a she. It’s a girl,” Maeve says, as she attempts to pull me out of the car.
Excuse me? I hop over into the driver’s seat to avoid her.
Baby doll, I’m a man. Why does everyone keep ...?
I take a peek downstairs. Oh no ... no she didn’t.
I’m a b— ! I’m a female hound! What happened? It’s bad enough I’m a dog now, but she took my manhood! Oh, that witch. I’m going to kill her. I swear.
“Can I name her?” the little girl squeals.
> Please don’t.
Maeve is now crawling into the car, reaching for me, saying, “Okay, pooch, you’ve got to go.”
Uh. No. I don’t.
I press myself up against the driver’s side window to avoid her. Maeve sighs and says, “Sure, Penny,” as she climbs out of the car. She heads around to the driver’s side to get at me. Kind of a waste of time because I’m just going to hop into the passenger’s seat if she tries to get me out of this car.
Sorry, toots, but I’m going home with you! You and your car reek of magic.
“I like Wanda,” the girl says. “Can we call her Wanda?”
Wanda? Seriously? What kind of a name is that!
I’m not going by a woman’s name. It’s not happening, and there is no way they’re going to let you name a dog Wanda, sweetie, so you can—
“Wanda it is then,” Maeve says, and I whine softly. “All right, Wanda, you have got to go. You’re shedding all over my car.” She flings open the driver’s side door, and I bolt for the passenger’s seat. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Gracie, help me out, would you?” she looks to her friend for assistance, but her friend is hesitant.
“What are you going to do with her once you get her out? She’s obviously lost.”
Yeah, Maeve! Listen to Gracie! Take me home with you! I’ll be a good boy ... girl ... stupid witch.
“I don’t know. She must belong to someone?” Maeve says.
“It’s too fat to be a stray,” Gracie says. “Someone’s been feeding her.”
I instinctively look at my gut.
Fat? Really?
If someone had called me fat back home, they would have lost their job. I haven’t eaten in days until I got into town! Except that pizza crust ... ugh, my life.
“Is there a pound I can take her to?” Maeve asks.
A pound!
No sweetheart, now you’re talking nonsense.
I whine and whimper and Gracie says, “Nearest animal shelter is about an hour’s drive—“
“Well ... it’s too late for that today. Maybe I’ll keep her overnight—”Maeve says, and I bark and wag my tail. I swear, that tail has a mind of its own sometimes.
Maeve points a warning finger at me. “Don’t get too excited pup. I’ll call the pound in the morning.”