by Rene Fomby
“But—but—you were here first! After all, this is your home as much as it is theirs. If your barking presents a problem for their new human puppy, then—they’ll just have to cancel it, is all. Squatters rights. And you are a squatter, after all. You know, being that you’re a girl—”
“I don’t think it’s that easy, Moose. I know you’ve never been around a human puppy—except for that one time, and the humans seem to have made a concerted effort to keep them away from you ever since—but the humans are really weird about their puppies. Remember Angie down the street? It wasn’t long after the first human puppy arrived in her house that they built her a dog house and banished her to the backyard pretty much full time.”
“But they didn’t try to sell her off into dog slavery!” Even the thought of that had my dinner already threating to visit me again. And I know what I said earlier about twice being nice, but this time I don’t think I could force myself to get it back down my throat again. “I remember when we were trying to locate a good home for Killer, after everyone got sprung out of prison, and some of the stories I heard about how some humans treat their dogs were just—sickening!”
“Nevertheless, Moose, it is what it is. If they decide to sell me off to the highest bidder—the word they like to use is ‘adopt’, like it somehow makes it all acceptable—then I don’t really have any say in the matter, do I?” The tears were still falling in a steady flow, forming a small puddle at her feet. Which are huge, by the way, given how short her legs are. “It’s all kind of funny in a way, you know, Moose? Because having a say in the matter is really why I’m in this whole mess in the first place. I can’t seem to just shut up.”
I was just about to suggest that solution to her, but now I realize it wouldn’t have helped the situation at all, given the circumstances. Bella is who she is, and Corgis are no more capable of being shy, quiet shrinking violets than I am of turning down a chewstick. If a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil, those Corgi ears of hers are going to hear it, and then she just can’t help but let everyone in the whole wide world know about it. A regular chatterbox.
And I’m pretty much the opposite of all that. I struggle to say anything at all, and even then it usually comes out all wrong, somehow. Like right now—I know I should be saying something to comfort her, but for the life of me I don’t have a clue what that might be. She just seems so pathetic, standing there with her whole life draining from her eyes… and suddenly it hits me. If Bella leaves, then I’ll have lost my bestest friend in the whole world, for the second time this year. First Killer, then Bella, and then who do I got left to hang out with? Who do I got left to talk to?
As the reality of all that finally sinks in, Bella suddenly starts getting all blurry in my eyes. I reach out a paw to grab the fence and steady myself, even as a strange, raw emptiness bursts open from somewhere way deep within my chest, tearing away at me. Everything around me starts to spin, and I just can’t help myself, I throw back my head in pain. And howl.
Home, 7:30 p.m.
M
y humans have just finished their din-din, but instead of watching television until bedtime like every other night, they’re standing in the living room, arguing. Something I’ve never really seen them do before. I’d snuck Bella in through the doggie door a little earlier so we could talk some more, since the night was getting too cold to stay outside, and now we’re hunkered down together under the dining room table, listening in.
My mistress, Helen, is speaking in a very loud voice, her words sounding like what you might expect a toy poodle to sound like if it was human. Squeaky, high pitched, but soothing in its own unique way. Howard, on the other hand, has a slightly nasally voice. Which is odd, really, given how short his nose really is. Back to Helen.
“Oh my stars! I never in my entire life expected to hear those words come out of your mouth, Howard McGillicutty!”
“Now, Helen—”
“Don’t you now Helen me! Of all the harebrained ideas—”
“I’m not trying to reach any conclusions about any of this tonight, I’m just saying we might want to consider—”
“Consider getting rid of Moose? Really?”
That certainly got my attention. I mean, it’s usually pretty hard to follow humans when they’re talking. Unlike animals, they’re known for having exceedingly poor enunciation, and half their words sound like a great many other completely different words, so it’s important to stay focused on context. But “getting rid of Moose”? That came through loud and clear.
“Listen, Helen, just think about what this all means to us. All of us, even Moose. I’m just saying the Pattersons might have the right idea, after all. Sometimes finding a new home for the dog might be the best thing for him, as well. Take the stress off of everyone, the dog included. I mean, you heard the howling last night. He’s clearly not happy here.”
“No, you mean take the stress off of you, is what I’m hearing! You couldn’t care less about the dog. You never have. It’s always about you, isn’t it? It’s always about your job, your career, what you need, and I’m always just supposed to go along with all of it. ‘Oh, yes, Helen. I got a new job in London, and we’re moving in a few weeks. So you need to sell the house, pack up our things, quit your job, and say goodbye to all of your friends. And, oh, by the way, get rid of the dog while you’re at it.’ Does that sound about right? Because that’s exactly how I heard it!”
Helen is darting jerkily around the room, dusting everything she comes across, something she always does when she’s angry. Which means this room rarely ever gets dusted. But it’s getting the grand treatment tonight, that’s for sure.
“Look, Helen, I think you’re being a little unfair, here—”
“Unfair? You think I’m being unfair? Is that what you think? Well let me tell you something about fairness, mister. When you first asked me to marry you, you promised me I would always have an equal say in our marriage, that I would never be forced to take a back seat to your life, your career. But how exactly has that worked out, huh? You moved me out here to Chicago from the wonderful, comfortable world I had built for myself, for us, in Cincinnati. My family, my friends, my job. My career. But it was a great opportunity for you, the chance of a lifetime, the best thing for the both of us, you said. And I went along with it. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Divorce you? No, I did the dutiful wifely thing, I stuck by my man, moved out here where I knew not a single solitary soul, and tried to start my life up all over again.”
“But Helen, at the time we thought maybe you could stay home—”
I’m not really following any of this, but whatever he just said really must have set her off, because she started bawling just like Bella did earlier tonight.
“Thank you for reminding me about that! Thank you for reminding me that I’m sterile, that I can never have children. You have no idea what I would do to be pregnant like Susan. No idea!”
“Helen, what I meant was—”
“No, I know what you meant. I know exactly what you meant.”
“Listen—”
“No, I’m tired of listening to you. You need to listen to me for a change. I can’t have children. I know that, and I accept that. I have to, I have no other choice in the matter. But with you gone all the time, traveling, Moose is the only comfort I have around this house. I can’t have children, but I can have him. And you are not going to take him away from me!”
That part I got, and I’m starting to breathe a little easier right about now. But still—if Bella leaves the neighborhood, where will that leave me? Maybe I just need to think this one through a little better…
My master has managed to get in front of Helen and is holding her by the shoulders. And she’s refusing to look his way, her tears still pouring out down her face. “But—Helen. Let’s be reasonable. Please. You know, honey, when we get to London, we’ll have the entire continent of Europe at our doorstep. You’ll want to be traveling all the time,
to Paris, Rome, Athens. A dog would just be an anchor to us. And on a boat—”
“Yes, and that whole boat thing is your idea, mister, not mine. You think I want to live on a barge in the middle of the Thames River like some kind of vagabond? All because we can’t afford anything else closer in to the city, and you refuse to commute to work like everybody else? And don’t even try to talk to me about traveling. I’ve heard that particular tune before, a thousand times over, already. And just who winds up doing the traveling while I stay behind and keep everything neat and tidy for when you finally decide to drag yourself home like some conquering hero? No, I know exactly how London will turn out. I’ll be all alone once again, stuck on a cold, leaky barge, with no family, no friends. I can’t get a job in England because I’m just the spouse of a person who can get a work visa. And my family will be a ten or fifteen hour plane ride away, even if any of them could even afford the fare. I guess I should just drop down on my knees and thank you for taking me someplace where they at least speak English! Thank you, my dear husband. I am so blessed to serve you. Truly.”
My master looks like he’s run out of steam. Or at least out of arguments. But he seems to still have one last card to play, hidden up his sleeve.
“Helen, we don’t even know if we can bring Moose to England. The last I heard, we’d have to stick him in some kind of quarantine cage for six months or a year—”
“Well, unlike you, Howard, I’ve checked into that. When England joined the EU they had to change a lot of their rules, and one of them was the quarantine issue. The EU had a rule that animals could travel freely within the Union as long as they had a veterinary certificate proving they were fully vaccinated against rabies and all of the other serious diseases. And as it turns out, our vet is fully certified to sign off on one of those. So Moose is every bit as welcome in jolly old England as you and I are. Plus, British Air will let him travel with us in the main cabin, one of the advantages of having a smaller dog. So there. Either he goes with us, or I stay! You want to be the decider, here? Then decide!”
“You can’t be serious, Helen. Choosing a dog over—”
“I’m not choosing anything, Howard. It’s not my choice, it never has been. I’m perfectly content staying right here, continuing the life that I’ve finally built for myself here in Chicago, such as it is. It’s you that wants to stir things up, it’s you that’s forcing everything to change. All so you can get a fancy new job. Okay, then, go. Have fun. But I’m tired of always taking the back seat in our marriage. I’m ready to call my own shots for a change. And that all starts with Moose. At least he’s loyal. At least he loves me. I’m not sure I can say the same about you.”
“Oh, Helen, of course I—”
But he doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because my mistress Helen has stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. I signal to Bella and we sneak out of the dining room as quietly as we can, while Howard stands all by himself in the living room and fumes.
Fat Tony’s Office,
Early Monday Morning
A
fter breakfast I stepped outside to check on how Bella was getting along, but as soon as she saw me she burst into tears again and bolted for the inside. After all my howling last night, I can’t say I blame her.
Inside the house, the mood was scarcely any better. Last night’s argument was clearly still bothering Helen, my mistress. But not half as much as it was bothering me. First Bella, now me, sold into canine slavery like we were common barnyard animals? How could my world get any more upside down than this?
And as if things couldn’t get any worse, my mistress was now crashing around the house, busily packing away various things she’d pulled off of shelves and out of drawers into little brown cardboard boxes, cursing under her breath the whole time. Something about watching my humans packing stuff up really bothers me for some reason I can’t explain, so I figure I’ll be much happier checking out the action at PETSEC HQ instead. Find out what if anything they had located on Julia Strange’s computer.
When I get to Fat Tony’s office, there are well over a dozen people packed into the room, moving back and forth seemingly at random, and I have to step back for a moment to take it all in. I’m about to decide that I should just take off and head back home, when out of nowhere someone grabs my shoulder from behind.
“Moose! I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth. I already put out word on the squirrel network, asking Sammy to find you and haul your hairy butt down here. We need you!”
It’s Fat Tony, in the flesh. Well, what flesh he has left, after losing all that weight.
“Hey, Tony. Sorry. Some problems at home I needed to take care of this morning.” I tilt my head toward all the hustle and bustle in the office. “What’s up?”
Tony’s smile was so wide it could probably light up the room all on its own. “Well, to start with, Moose, that bait-and-switch caper you pulled off with Tommy yesterday worked like a charm. Julia Strange dumped the contents of the fake SD card onto the Internet without ever once checking to see what was on it, and now all the news shows and pet blogs are lighting up with how progressive PETSEC and its leadership really is. Especially toward feline empowerment. We may have just turned the tide on the whole election!”
“Hey, that’s great news!” And obviously, from Tony’s perspective, it really is. If the detective business has really been as bad as he makes out, he really needs a steady job right about now, and they don’t get any cushier than president of PETSEC. “So, are we done then?” I wag my head in the direction of all the people racing madly around us. “What’s with all the activity all of a sudden?”
Tony managed to smile even wider. “The bug Q’ute stuck in the fake SD card paid off big time. We know where the Russians have holed up in the city, and now Tommy is organizing a raid on their headquarters to put them away for good. Before they can stir up any more trouble around here.”
I can’t help but swallow an involuntary lump in my throat at that news. “A—raid? That sounds—dangerous. But hey, I’m happy to help out any way I can. Maybe I can hang back here and help man the radios…”
“No way I’d ask that of you, Moose,” Tony exclaims, slapping me harshly and unexpectedly between my shoulder blades. “No, you and Tommy are the real heroes, here, so you deserve to be in the thick of the action when we take them all down! Without everything you two pulled off yesterday, we’d probably all be packing up the office and writing my concession speech right about now!”
Just at that moment I see Tommy heading our way, the crowd parting ever so slightly to give him room.
“Moose! Glad you could finally join us! Have a little too much late night fun last night? Morning come way too early for ya?”
I bump paws with Tommy as he finally works his way through the mayhem. “No, just had some things pop up with the day job I needed to handle before I headed on over.” No way I was going to spill the kibble on what was really going on back home. Some things are just too personal, if you know what I mean.
Tommy twitches his tail knowingly. “Gotcha. Yeah, I know how it is. Even with all the useless leeches I’ve got hanging around on my payroll, sometimes a problem pops up that just needs el jefe to weigh in and take command of the situation.” He raised an eyebrow in Tony’s direction. “You catch him up on what’s been happening around these parts while he’s been catching up on his beauty sleep?”
“Some of it. I was just getting to the part about the raid on the tearoom.”
Tearoom? Suddenly the raid didn’t seem all that scary, after all. I mean, how scary could a bunch of old ladies sitting around sipping tea and eating finger sandwiches really be?
Tommy twitches again, this time in my direction. “Good. Then it’s all set. We’ll hit the tearoom HQ inside the hour. I’ll take the lead with the commando team, and Moose can cover the rearguard action, just in case any loose ends try to slip past my little dragnet.”
Rearguard?
This is starting to sound better and better. “Just point me in the right direction, then, and I’ll get it done. Loose ends are my specialty.” That didn’t exactly come out the way I intended, but no one seemed to notice. Or at least no one decided to comment on it. And for Tommy, that was a major improvement from the day before. Maybe he didn’t see me as such a big loser after all.
Tommy appears distracted, and glances briefly over my shoulder at someone, then holds up a paw, a single claw poking out of it. “Super. Okay, then, we meet outside in five, and go from there. You need to step into the little girl’s room in the meantime?” he asks, staring pointedly at me with a small smirk showing on his face. Maybe I was too quick to judge the change in our relationship, after all. But no way I was going to let my irritation show.
“Nah, I’ll save it all up to mark up the tearoom nice and smelly when we’re done. Cover up anything those Wolfhounds have left behind so there won’t be any record left that they had ever set paw in there.”
“Good thinking, Moose,” Tony says, giving me another unexpected slap on my back, as Tommy somehow manages to melt away back into the crowd. “But don’t forget, your stuff isn’t encrypted, so watch what you say, right?”
“Don’t worry, Tony,” I promise him with a tellingly serious look. “I think we’ve all learned our lesson about that!”
Russian Tearoom
O
ur objective is laid out straight across the street from us. All in all, it doesn’t look all that imposing, just a glass-fronted restaurant, like pretty much any other restaurant in downtown Chicago. Which I guess is pretty much the point—what use is a secret headquarters, after all, if the place screams Secret Headquarters just by looking at it?