The Dog Lady

by Melody Hewson

Lady

  Written by: Melody Hewson

  Copyright: Melody Hewson 2012

  A flash of a shadow crossed the pool of weak light before disappearing once more into the night.

  “What was that?” a concerned voice called out from the shadows a short distance away, a small burst of red hovering in the air as the speaker took a pull from their cigarette.

  “Just the dog lady.” Another voice replied dismissively. “Just ignore her, she’s harmless.”

  As if waiting for just such an introduction, another figure peeled itself from the darkness of the moonless night, casually crossing the puddle of weak light from a decrepit street lamp, then melting away back into the darkness.

  The two shadowed figures continued along their nightly path, greeted by the familiar barks and howls of the neighborhood dogs as they passed. The nightly circuit almost completed, the pair of shadows shed the darkness like a cloak, the rest of the short walk back home well lit by a pair of newly installed street lamps.

  A small, shaggy mongrel of no certain pedigree darted back & forth excitedly, sniffing, peeing, sniffing, peeing, chasing some stray raccoon or skunk a short distance before losing interest & darting off in another direction, yet never straying more than a few feet from the old woman who walked behind him, her gait a slow shambling walk, occasionally pausing to place a hand on her arthritic hip, resting a moment before continuing.

  Annabelle Carson, known more commonly as the Dog Lady, was a familiar site around the rural neighborhood. Almost no one knew her real name, and she never went out of her way to make herself more acquainted with the other residents. Her short, black hair, obviously dyed, was almost always in disarray and she had a habit of mumbling to herself. Her clothes were always covered in stray fur & usually had smears of mud and paw print stains. Often when someone tried to strike up a conversation with her, she would simply stare blankly or give abrupt, one word answers. She was mostly a recluse, keeping to herself inside a small, rundown house with an ill-kept yard.

  And yet, she had a an uncanny way with dogs. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that if you had a problem with your dog, the Dog Lady was the first person to talk to. Everything from digging to excessive barking could be fixed with a visit from Annabelle, and she always seemed pleased to work with the misbehaving canine.

  Even the most vicious brute was quick to roll over for a belly rub when Annabelle approached, yapping cheerfully in a way reminiscent of the small mutt that always stayed nearby. Every dog loved the Dog Lady, & the Dog Lady had never met a dog she didn’t love. And she did love her dogs.

  While never asking for any payment for her services, often the dog’s owner would offer her a few bills, more out of pity than gratitude. No one knew much about the solitary old woman, but rumors were exchanged, as always happened in small towns. Often when the subject of the Dog Lady came up, someone would tap the side of their heads and nod, a knowing expression on their faces, to indicate that they thought she was feeble minded, likely from old age. But she never caused trouble or bothered anyone as long as they were never caught abusing a dog in her presence. She was considered a harmless, concentric old woman & mostly left alone. Just as Annabelle liked it.

  As Annabelle & the mutt finally managed to make it back home, they were both eager to be back inside the small, dilapidated house, though for different reasons. Annabelle was looking forward to a hot cup of fresh tea & a few minutes in her favorite chair with her favorite book before she finally went to bed. The mutt was simply looking forward to it’s nightly after-walk treat. They had been following the same routine for years, skipping their walks only if the weather was too bad to go out. One at noon, just before lunch, and one at eight, just before bed. Neither the Dog Lady nor her dog suspected the break in their routine caused by a pair of unexpected, and most unwelcome, visitors.

  Two men sat together at the shadowed end of a bar, talking softly to each other as they drank their beers. They had just arrived in town the previous night, renting one of the vacant houses on a short term lease.

  They never liked to stay in any place too long, and for good reason.

  “So I heard a rumor.” one of them said after taking a swig of beer from his bottle.

  “Already?” The other replied. “Man, Jake, you don’t take long.” He took a swig from his own bottle, thick, calloused fingers twisting the barbed cap idly across the scarred, stained surface of the bar. “What did you hear?”

  “I heard…” Jake paused for effect, taking another swallow of beer. “That we just might have a jackpot here.”

  “No shit!” the younger man exclaimed, flicking the cap away. “A jackpot?”

  “No shit, Hank.” Jake confirmed, reaching up to tousle his little brother’s mop of carrot-colored hair. “Said she’s loaded, LOADED! Made it big way back when on some dot com scheme or something, but she’s loony-tunes. Keeps it all stashed away under her mattress like a squirrel sitting on a pile of nuts. Never spends a cent of it, like some batty Scrooge or something.”

  “Man…” Hank muttered darkly. “Why do people do that? Horde away perfectly good cash like that? They don’t need it, right man?”

  “Right you are.” Jake agreed with a growing smile, taking another pull from his bottle, his small pig-like eyes narrowing as he pictured the thousands of dollars worth of cash that he had been assured were there, like a ripe apple, just waiting to be harvested by someone willing to expend a little effort. “Why it’s downright selfish of people to keep all that money all to themselves like that, when deserving, hard working folks like us could make such better use of it.”

  “We could live like kings! No more petty jobs & petty junk!” Hank joined in. “So who’s this loony scrooge who is being so kind as to have a jackpot waiting around for us?”

  Jake chuckled softly & finished off the last of his beer before signaling for another. “Some old cunt they call the Dog Lady.”

  Annabelle gasped as she opened her door, left unlocked as always. Standing beside her, the mutt began to growl. The place was a mess! Her meager belongings had been strewn around the small living room, her favorite chair had been slashed open, it’s stuffing pulled out & thrown carelessly about. In the connecting kitchen she could see that shattered glass & porcelain littered the linoleum floor. There were sounds coming from her tiny bedroom.

  Confused, Annabelle stepped further inside, concerned that some wild animal had somehow gotten trapped inside the house & was trying to get out, the destruction merely a side effect of it’s panic.

  The mongrel growled even louder as he joined her in the living room, his small pointed ears perked and facing the direction of the bedroom where the sounds were coming from. He tried to put himself between Annabelle and the threat, leaning back against her shins as if urging her to leave the house rather than continue.

  “Easy, boy.” Annabelle cooed softly to the little dog, reaching down to stroke his bristling fur. “What ever it is that got in here, it’s already scared half to death. We don’t want to make things worse. I wonder if it’s a coon. Those little buggars do have a way of getting into things. Or it might be a cat. Oh the poor thing, I’ll get the broom, maybe we can shoo it out the door.”

  The mutt stayed glued to her legs as Annabelle retrieved the broom from the floor & slowly made her way into the kitchen, trying not to startle what she assumed was an already terrified animal.

  What she found instead was two men in black ski masks, their backs to her, destroying her room. “That crazy bitch has got to have it stashed around here somewhere, damn it!” one of them was muttering.

  Annabelle was first shocked, then enraged. The small dog at her side gave an angry bark, causing both men to turn & look at the pair in the doorway. “Just what do you think you’re doing?
!” The old woman screamed, brandishing the broom like a weapon. “Get out of here this instant!” The dog yapped furiously.

  The men stood frozen for a few seconds in surprise. “There she is!” One of them said. “Let’s get her!” They rushed the old woman, who swatted them with the broom until one of them managed to rip it from her hands & throw it away. The small dog lunged, throwing itself at the closest target & getting a mouthful of pants, which began to tear away, but a harsh kick sent the small animal slamming into the wall. It yelped once & then lay still.

  “My baby!” Annabelle screamed. She tried to shove the men aside & rush to the injured dog, but a sudden punch threw her backwards, back into the kitchen. The breath left her lungs with a whoosh as she landed on her back amongst the shards of glass & shattered crockery.

  Suddenly a masked figure was standing over her, grasping a fistful of her shirt & jerking her forward, his other fist raised threateningly. Annabelle could only cower helplessly, raising up her frail arms to protect her face, her struck eye already beginning to swell shut.

  “Tell us where the money is, you old bitch!” He was screaming at her, his fist waving eagerly. “Tell us where it is now! Where the hell did you hide it?!”

  “Th-there’s a small glass jar on my bedside table! I put