"HOUNDINI" A SHORT STORY

HOUNDINI

I was dog-tired. LITERALLY!!! It had been an exhausting week in the City walking my furry clients. Finally, today was Friday and a couple boarders and I were off to Upstate New York for some R & R.

It was a win-win situation at my home in the country for everybody. The pooches had fenced acres on which to , safely, run and frolic with their pals. The barbeque pit was constantly fired up. And word had gotten around the canine circle, that if you waited just long enough at this cook's feet, from time to time, smoky tidbits would, accidentally, jump off the grill for the taking. Needless to say, they enjoyed this mini-vacation and I, likewise, was happy as a clam. Not once would I have to pick up a leash or pile of poop. And the money wasn't bad either. How could you lose?

Largo and Olaf barked excitedly and pressed their wet noses against the glass, as I turned into the driveway and they saw my girlfriend and their buddies Gumbo and Gaytor awaiting them.

I got everyone inside the house, fixed myself a cool drink, and suggested to the wagging foursome, that if they'd let me relax and put my feet up for a spell, I'd make it worth their while. When they spied me going for the rawhide chews, I knew I had no argument and so, out we went to the upper deck.

It was a beautiful afternoon and I knew the sun's warm rays would be a soothing tonic for my weary bones. I was more fatigued and achy than I had imagined.

I handed the treats out to the "kids", took a seat on top of the picnic table, and propped my outstretched legs on the deck's railing. Before I could emit a sigh of relief, it happened. My life passed by me in a flash. And, so did Olaf!

In an instant, he had leapt over my head, the wooden railing, and teetered precariously on an adjoining roof. I truly believe I saw what seemed to be a mischievious smile on his muzzle, as I strained to reach and pull him back out of harm's way. Because then, to my horror, the dog jumped, fearlessly, off the ledge.

Dreading the worst, I made myself look down. There, cushioned on top of a bush, Mr. O was sprawled. He was winded, but didn't appear to be hurt whatsoever. "Olaf, Olaf," I, frantically, called. He glanced up at me and, I swear, shot me the bird with his left paw. Then, before I could say, "Aw shit!" he scrambled from his leafy perch to the ground and took off like a bat out of hell.

"Damnit! That little bastard could have, at least, sprained something," I cursed. "I should have known he'd pull one of his schemes. Now, I have to track his ass down." The remaining trio of mutts momentarily lifted their heads from their chews to watch Olaf galloping towards the woods. "Don't even think about it," I warned them. They could have cared less, not when there was an extra rawhide treat to fight over.

"Lisa! Lisa! HELP!!!" I screamed. My housemate ran to my assistance with questioning concern. "It's Olaf. He's escaped," I breathlessly informed her. "We've got to catch him before dark. He's almost to the woods. You take the car and I'll head out on foot."

I heard the jeep speed away with Lisa calling for the dog at the top of her lungs. Armed with honey-baked ham, I raced in the direction I had seen him run. Following his trail was not an easy task. He seemed to have gone through each and every mud hole he could find to throw me off. Knee deep in the muck, I swore I'd get even once I got hold of his butt.

I caught up with Lisa, as I exited the woods. I was filthy, exhausted, and smelled awful. We were both dogless, but she had a look of optimism on her face. "Cherie, I think I've got him cornered," she excitedly told me. "Where? Where?" I desperately asked. "You know that mansion we admire down the road? Well, he's in the yard by the pool," she told me, "Get in and let's hurry over there before he takes off again."

Within seconds, we screeched to a halt in front of the home. The owner greeted us, though he didn't look too impressed with my appearance. I don't think my scent was that appealing either. He guided us to the back of his property and there was Olaf sitting as smug as could be.

"Don't spook him. I can't chase his anymore and he knows it. If we don't corral him now, we're screwed," I whispered. Crouching low, we took a breath and sized up the situation.

"Hey, O," I cooed, "Look what I've got for you." I tossed a piece of meat in his direction. He glanced over at it, but was preoccupied with something on the ground. I threw another slice of ham closer towards him, but still he didn't budge from whatever it was. "It's a trick. I know he's going to grab the food and bolt. I just know it," I whimpered. "This isn't the time to freak out, Cherie," Lisa said sternly, "Get a grip."

I slowly began to rise. Come hell or high water, I'd get that dog on his tether. It was now or never. I'd had it. I stood up and helped Lisa to her feet. Olaf stared at me and me at him. He defiantly turned and began to quickly retreat from us, then stopped abruptly.

With tail between his legs and head downcast, he came over to where we stood. He looked so contrite, so sorry, so wiped out from running. At our feet he placed a peace offering. It was a dead turtle.

I grabbed his collar, scooped him and the road-kill up in my arms. We profusely thanked our neighbor, hurried to the car, and headed home.

"Give me a cigarette," Lisa demanded. "But, you don't smoke," I argued. "I do now. Hand one over," she snapped, "Christ, I don't know what stinks the most-you, the turtle, or this afternoon."

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, since Mr. AWOLaf played in the solitary confinement of the small yard and was forbidden any deck privileges.

As I started up the car and prepared to leave on Monday, Lisa told me in no uncertain terms, between puffs on a Marlboro, that Olaf had worn out his welcome and no longer could come for visits. Of course, she was right, but what was I going to tell his owners?

Wayne was at his desk when I delivered O back to his residence. "We have to talk," I began, "Is Judy here?" He told me no, which was for the best. She was the most well-respected and level-headed psychologist I'd ever known, except when it came to her Norwegian Elk Hound baby. Then, she could be as neurotic as her patients.

"He's done it again, Wayne. Olaf took off and gave us a real run for our money this time. Lisa says he is puppy-non-grata at the house from now on. I wish it could be different but I'm in the dog-house too." I went on, proceeding to tell the owner, in detail, his dog's latest escapade. When I finished, Wayne just shook his head in empathy. Since he had chased O, more times than he cared to remember, when the front door was left open, or the leash had broken, he, totally, could relate. He would talk to his wife about what had occurred, but we both agreed it would be better to leave out the part of her precious boy jumping off the roof.

As I was leaving, I turned and chuckled. "One good thing has come out of this, you know." What's that?" Wayne asked puzzled. "I've often heard how the boys are embarrassed to walk Olaf because he squats to pee and they think he's a wimp. Well, the next time they bring the subject up, tell them something for me. Olaf may not lift his leg to take a leak, but their dog can do something other dogs can't. He can fly!"

THE END

THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU AND THE BOYS, JUDY AND WAYNE. NO DOUBT MR. O IS RUNNING AMUCK IN HEAVEN AND KEEPING THE ANGELS IN SHAPE.