Mark, There's a Beagle in My Bedroom!

by Michael Ciardi

At first glance, gazing at perfection and rainbows had quite a bit in common. Each was pleasurable to observe in short intervals, but prudent-minded viewers eventually realized that they’re both merely optical illusions. Before the end of the fourth day of Mark’s arrival, Kip’s presumed pot of gold revealed its first hints of corrosion.

  Occasionally, Bed Mania advertised mattresses and other furnishings at prices that kept the store open until after 10 P.M. During these “Super Sale (Spelled “Sail”)” events, Kip worked until closing. As usual, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be home when he entered his townhouse at quarter past the hour. This time, however, he was only half right.

  After flicking on the light switch in the foyer, Kip noticed that Mark’s windbreaker was draped over the staircase’s banister. Since it was still a bit chilly outside, he assumed that Mark had the night off. Calling out his name a few times didn’t solve the riddle though. Maybe Mark had either forgotten his jacket or fallen asleep. Either way, Kip logged enough hours at the store and was ready for some shuteye himself. At the top of the staircase, he detected a sliver of light cutting beneath the half-open bedroom door. Because he distinctly remembered shutting this door before he left that morning, Kip stepped cautiously toward the room.

  Kip kept reassuring himself: it couldn’t be an intruder, not in this nearly crimeless community. A more likely explanation was that he simply forgot to turn the light off and a cross breeze nudged open the door. He didn’t see any advantage in leaping to any farfetched hypothesis of robbery. But after Kip paced into the bedroom and stared at the center of his bed, he wished he hadn’t been so optimistic in his presumption.

  Squatting on its hind legs in the middle of the mattress, a medium-sized beagle eyeballed Kip as if he had every right to lounge exactly where he pleased. For its breed, the dog was commonplace in appearance: tricolored in black, tan, and white fur. Its gumdrop nose was probably too large for its muzzle, and it’s ears a bit floppier than normal. The dog also displayed one triangular tooth that stuck out from its bottom jaw. He wagged a white-tipped tail like a sign of truce, but Kip still wasn’t having any altruistic thoughts about pet sitting.

  “How the heck did you get in here?” Kip questioned the dog. If he expected a curt reply from the pedigree, he didn’t get one. Kip tried to shoo the dog from his bed, but the beagle seemed rather obstinate for an unannounced visitor. He wasn’t budging, and Kip didn’t wish to scuffle with a stray hound with a sense of entitlement. Obviously, Mark hadn’t been as forthright as Kip presumed. Before he determined what action to take next, Kip heard the front door opening. From this point, he’d let Mark propose the solution to this glitch in their agreement.

  Kip greeted Mark at the top of the stairs in an obvious state of bewilderment. After all, his tenant cradled a bag of dog food under his arm and appeared oblivious to their previous discussion in regard to keeping pets in the townhouse. A tongue full of punitive words sputtered between Kip’s lips in these seconds, but he only managed to blurt out a single statement in exasperation.

  “Mark, there’s a beagle in my bedroom!”

  “Oh, he must’ve gotten out of my room. Sorry about that.”

  “Your room? You mean my room, right? This is my house. We talked about you not bringing any pets in here. Don’t you remember?”

  Mark looked humbled by the inquiry. “I remember. But that dog isn’t mine.”

  Kip’s nostrils flared like a bull being goaded by a matador, as they often did when he was confronted by an illogical argument. “Well, he sure the hell isn’t mine. If he’s not yours, where did he come from?”

  “Don’t worry, Kip, I’ll explain everything.”

  “Please do.”

  Kip needed a few minutes to process this situation, and he even rechecked the beagle’s whereabouts to ensure that this wasn’t a prank. Eventually, he found himself on the couch downstairs engaged in deep breathing exercises to induce tolerance. Mark, still toting the bag of dog food, joined him. He remained as sturdy as a steel pier as he relayed the details of his canine encounter to Kip.

  “So I was on my way home late this afternoon, and I saw that dog running around aimlessly in the road. I thought it was gonna get hit by a car or something.”

  “Did the dog have a collar?”

  “Nope. No tags or collar. I decided to bring him here. What else could I do?”

  “How about calling the animal warden? They pick up strays.”

  “I figured I’d do that tomorrow. This is probably some neighbor’s pet. I didn’t think you’d mind if we kept him here for one night.”

  At the risk of being branded insensitive, Kip raised his eyes brows. “You could’ve called me at the store, y’know. At least I wouldn’t have been shocked to find a dog on my bed when I came home.”

  “You’re right. I should’ve at least done that. I must’ve lost track of time.”

  “Are you usually prone to doing these sort of things?”

  “Nah. This is a first. I just got a flashback to when I was a kid. Honestly, I had a dog that looked a lot like that beagle. It got loose from its leash one day and challenged a garbage truck to a joust. The truck won.”

  If conjuring sympathy was Mark’s concoction of choice, it worked better than a sorcerer’s charm. Inherently, Kip was about as fierce as a wingless hummingbird; Mark skillfully exposed this telltale characteristic. His pouting eyes and puckered bottom lip only served to enhance his chances of manipulating his new landlord.

  “Don’t make me feel guilty about this,” Kip said. “Come first thing in the morning, I want you to take that dog to the shelter downtown. Understand?”

  Mark’s frown dissolved faster than an aspirin in hot water. “Sounds fair,” he agreed.

  “But you’ll have to get him out of my room right now. He can stay in the spare bathroom.”

  “I knew you’d show a little compassion, Kip. Thanks.”

  Kip didn’t believe he merited any badge of praise. However, he now wondered what other surprises his tenant had stockpiled at his disposal. The conversation might’ve ended there, but Mark had another question lingering like an aftertaste to his token victory.

  “Hey, you never did tell me why you don’t like any pets around?”

  “I don’t have time to take care of an animal,” Kip insisted. “Not even a fish.”

  “Keep an open mind. Dogs make good companions, especially after a divorce. And unlike a wife, they never expect more than a bowl of food and a pat on the head.”

  Kip grinned at that shot of wisdom, but it wasn’t nearly cogent enough to alter his opinion on the matter. “Just make sure the dog’s out of here in the morning, Mark. It’s been a long day. I’m tired and going to bed now.”

  Before Kip finished brushing his teeth, Mark coaxed the beagle out of the master bedroom with the open bag of dog food serving as his lure. If this was the worst thing that ever happened between his boarder and him, Kip could’ve rolled with it. After all, it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to lodge a dog in his house for one night. What could possibly go wrong? At 3:00 A.M., Kip found out.

  Chapter 5