The Silence of the Chihuahuas

by Waverly Curtis

  I must say, not talking has advantages and drawbacks. One advantage is that I am rediscovering my inner dog. It is liberating to just be a dog. When I heard those miscreants, no words could describe the primal instincts I felt. I barked and snarled and growled and barked. I was ferocious, wild, and free from the civilized constraints of language!

  However, I was not so wild that I neglected my duty. I memorized the license number of the big SUV that was outside our house. I do not think that Geri thought to do so. And that leads us to one drawback about not talking: how will I convey this license number to her if I do not talk?

  Aye, there is the rub, as the Bard would say. I stopped talking because people thought Geri was crazy because I talked. Now she is beginning to think she is crazy because I do not talk. But a vow is a vow and I am a dog of my word.

  I could use some of the corny devices I have seen on TV and the Internet. Writing letters in the sand. But how can I get Geri to take me to the beach? Hiring a skywriter to write the letters and numbers in puffs of smoke in the sky? Arranging for the fans at a Seahawks game to spell it out with flash cards?

  Perhaps I will find the solution on the Internet. That is what it is for, n’est-ce pas? (And yes, in case you are wondering, I do speak French, having spent several weeks soaking up the sun on a beach in Cannes during the famous film festival.) Also a bit of Italian: Ciao, baby!

  Chapter 6

  Felix helped me calm down. He’s always good in a crisis. Although I didn’t appreciate the fact that he kept asking me if I had seen the license plate. It was true that when I tried to look back in my mind, I thought there was something funny about the number. Like maybe it was an official license plate, not the usual string of three letters and three numbers assigned to civilians. But that didn’t make sense, either. The government doesn’t send men in suits to intimidate private eyes.

  Felix ended up spending the night and we reconciled some of our differences in bed, but when he left in the morning, after writing down the number for the Laguna Beach pet therapist, I was still puzzled about what to do next.

  I decided finding out what was wrong with Pepe was my biggest concern, so I pulled up the number for Dr. Mallard. The receptionist wanted to know what was wrong with my dog. I couldn’t tell her my dog didn’t talk. So I told her my dog was acting very strangely.

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like he’s usually very communicative about what he wants,” I said, “and now he isn’t.”

  “So he’s withdrawn? Isolating himself?”

  “Well no, he’s not isolating himself.” In fact, he was in the living room and I could hear the sounds of his favorite telenovela, Paraiso Perdido. “But he doesn’t seem to have any interest in being around me.”

  There was a moment of silence. “So he’s afraid of you?”

  “Oh, no, not afraid of me. Just ignoring me. Sort of like a child sulking.”

  “Did you do something to him?”

  “No, of course not!” I was indignant.

  The receptionist was clearly puzzled. “Well, the doctor doesn’t have any openings for several weeks but I will put your name on the waiting list, in case we get a cancellation.”

  “But—”

  “That’s the best I can do,” she said firmly, “Dr. Mallard has a very busy practice.” And she hung up.

  My phone rang almost as soon as I set it down and I snatched it up, thinking maybe Dr. Mallard had a sudden opening in his schedule. But it was my sister. Not Teri. But my other sister, Cheryl, who lives with her dentist husband out in a subdivision on the east side of Lake Washington. How odd that she would call the day after Teri called me.

  Without even thinking about it, I asked: “Did Teri call you too?”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Cheryl sounded offended.

  “Just that I thought she called me yesterday,” I said. “She sounded stressed out and frightened. I thought maybe she called you too.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That someone was trying to kill her. And then she hung up. The call came from a clinic and spa out near Duvall.”

  I could almost see Cheryl shaking her head. “Geri, I think your new job is having a terrible effect on you. You’re getting paranoid. When will you get a normal job and settle down?”

  Cheryl is my older sister and she had to become a mother to me and my younger sister, Teri, when our parents died. She was only eighteen and we were sixteen and fourteen, respectively. It was a hard job and she has never let go of the task of trying to manage every detail of our lives. Teri managed to escape her relentless pressure by running away. I just tried to stay as far away from her as possible.

  “I don’t work for Jimmy G any more,” I said.

  “Well, that’s good news,” Cheryl said. “So do you have another job?”

  “Actually, I’m freelancing,” I said.

  “As what?”

  “As a private detective.” Of course, Pepe and I didn’t have any cases yet. Just a bunch of business cards that read Sullivan and Sullivan.

  “You don’t even have a license.”

  How did she know that? “I know but I’m signed up for the certification course. It’s this Saturday.” I had been waiting for this class, which was only offered twice a year, since I first started working for Jimmy G.

  There was silence on the end of the line.

  “So you’re not coming to the wedding?” she finally asked. “I was just talking to Amber and she said you had never RSVPed.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Pepe could hear the tone in my voice and came running over to see what was up. “Do you really think it’s appropriate for me to attend Jeff’s wedding?” Jeff was the best friend of Cheryl’s husband, Don, as well as, briefly, my husband.

  “Yes, of course, it is,” said Cheryl. “It shows you have no bad feelings toward him.”

  “But I do have bad feelings toward him.” Jeff had divorced me after I put him through business school, which had qualified him to get a great job working for an insurance company, where he immediately hooked up with his secretary, Amber.

  “It would heal a rift in our family,” Cheryl said. “We could all hang out together again.” Like the old days, when we had double-dated after I met Jeff at Cheryl and Don’s wedding.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “You could bring that guy you’re dating,” Cheryl said.

  I knew she didn’t approve of Felix, who had been gracious enough to accompany me to a tense Easter dinner at my sister’s house on our very first date.

  “His name is Felix and the invitation didn’t say Plus One.”

  “So you did get an invitation!”

  “Yes, but I threw it in the trash.”

  “Geri, think about it,” said Cheryl. “We’ve only got each other now that Mom and Pop are gone. It would really mean a lot to me if you were there. And the kids have been asking about you.”

  Cheryl has two kids, Danielle and D.J., possibly the two most obnoxious kids in the world, but I do take being an aunt seriously. And I hadn’t seen them in months.

  Cheryl continued, piling on the guilt: “Danielle is the flower girl and she looks so precious in her pink tutu. And D.J. will be wearing a little pink tux. He’s the ring boy.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said sulkily. I couldn’t ask Felix since he was going to be filming. And I wasn’t going to go to Jeff’s wedding alone. Maybe I could find Brad and get him to go with me. He had accompanied me to my sister’s house once before and had sworn he would never go back—he claimed the furniture gave him a headache—but if I found him and cleared him of the suspicion of murder, he would owe me big time.

  “That’s great!” chirped Cheryl.

  “So you don’t think that was really Teri that called?” I asked.

  “Well, if you find her, invite her too!” said Cheryl with a dismissive tone in her voice. She clearly thought I was nuts. I guess everyone did.

  “Pepe
, what should I do?” I asked as he came scurrying into the kitchen while I was making myself a cup of tea.

  He ran into the living room where Paraiso Perdido was playing. In this episode, Conchita was in jail because her angry ex-lover, Oswaldo, has framed her for a murder he committed. Conchita’s little sister, Angela, commits a crime herself so she ends up in jail as well, smuggling in the evidence that Conchita needs to prove her innocence.

  “That’s not a bad plan, Pepe,” I said as I watched the drama unfold while I sipped my second cup of Darjeeling. “But how would I get into Forest Glen?”

  He gave a sharp bark.

  “I wish you would talk to me,” I said. “I miss our conversations.”

  Pepe just sat there looking at me. And that’s when I realized that I could probably get into Forest Glen through a referral from my counselor. She had been suggesting I check myself into a facility ever since I adopted Pepe and he started talking to me.

  I picked up the phone and left a message on her answering machine. Then I went to my computer and looked for information about the price of a week spent at Forest Glen. Nothing. Apparently you had to have a private conversation with one of their facilitators.

  I called Forest Glen and scheduled an appointment for 3 p.m. for an assessment. The phone rang as soon as I hung up. It was Suzanna returning my call. I told her that I was considering checking myself into Forest Glen and that I had scheduled an assessment.

  “Geri, this is wonderful!” Suzanna said. “I’m proud of you for taking this step.”

  “Do you think they will let me bring my dog?” I asked.

  “You know, I can call them and make a referral. I will strongly suggest that Pepe is an integral part of your recovery and should be there with you.”

  “Thanks, Suzanna,” I told her.

  “Good. I’ll phone Forest Glen right away. Does that sound good?”

  “Sure.”

  “And do I have your permission to fax them your records upon request?”

  When I agreed, Suzanna said, “Remember, even if things get a little rough while you’re there, think about how great it will be to have a normal relationship with your dog again. Won’t that be nice?”

  “It sure will,” I told her. Then we said goodbye and rang off.

  Pepe seemed disappointed when I interrupted his TV watching. I was surprised to see he was no longer watching Paraiso Perdido. It took me a moment to realize what he was watching: One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Nurse Ratchet filled the screen, a giant needle in her hand and a sinister smile on her lips.

  “Very funny, Pepe!” I said, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV.

  Pepe’s Blog: How to Communicate with Humans

  I’m going to take a break for the moment from my usual advice on detecting to talk about a subject that is much on my mind these days: the clumsiness of communicating with humans. I had forgotten how obtuse they are. They seem to require the most obvious clues before they are able to discern what we want. We must escalate to a sharp reprimand of a bark, a lively dance in front of the food dish, or a vigorous scratching at the front door to get their attention to attend to our basic needs.

  I am trying to communicate through the television shows I choose and these blog posts, but my partner remains clueless, seeing the television simply as a vehicle for mindless entertainment. For instance, she likes to watch something called Downton Abbey and cries over the perils of life as a maidservant in a mansion. I have much more entertaining stories about my life as a servant; for instance, the time when I was employed as an assistant concierge at a hotel in Cabo San Lucas. Those tourists could get very irritable if a little dog did not deliver the right brand of tequila for their margaritas.

  Until recently, I was able to use words with Geri because she had the ability to hear me. Now that I am reduced to the same communication channels as other dogs, I often get frustrated. Geri tries hard. I can see that. She is so eager to please. It is one of the things you must love about humans. That and their loyalty.

  All in all, what would we do without them?

  Tips for Managing Humans

  • Behavior modification is the most effective way to train your human. I learned about it when Geri’s animal trainer boyfriend tried to use it to train me. It involves rewarding only behavior you like and ignoring behavior that displeases you. For instance, when your human says, “Do not eat the cat food!” just continue eating the cat food. (For some reason, manufacturers of food for pets seem to think cats deserve a richer, meatier diet than dogs. Does that make any sense? Cats do nothing but lie around in the sun all day and sleep, whereas dogs go for many walks and chase squeaky toys.)

  • Speaking of squeaky toys, you can train a human to toss one for you by dropping it at their feet. They will eventually realize that you want them to throw it for you. Bring it back to them if you want to continue the game. Sniff it and then walk away if you are tired of the game. Or pick it up and stash it somewhere out of reach of your human playmate.

  • I used behavior modification to train Felix. When he wanted me to do something, I ignored him. He finally gave up and now he devotes all his time to Fuzzy. Fuzzy is not the brightest penny in the fountain but Fuzzy is a good sidekick for a detective dog like me.

  • The best sidekicks are a bit dimwitted. Think Doctor Watson. I won’t say that’s why I chose Geri to be my partner but I will say this: if your sidekick is a bit slow, is always asking questions, and needs constant instruction, then your brilliance shines by comparison. Think Sherlock Holmes. Think Pepe Sullivan.

  Chapter 7

  I headed back to Forest Glen after packing a few items in a suitcase—some clothes for me, some treats and his iPad for Pepe. I thought we might not be returning home for a while.

  We arrived at Forest Glen a few minutes before my scheduled appointment. I was pretty nervous. Pepe, on the other hand, seemed calm. But he immediately lifted his leg and peed on my Toyota’s right rear tire. I couldn’t tell whether he was just marking his “mobile territory” (as he called it when I first got him) or demonstrating his displeasure over our current circumstances.

  “Ms. Sullivan!” said Justin as we walked in. He frowned when he saw Pepe trotting beside me. “Dr. Lieberman will be doing your assessment, but he’s running a bit late. That should give you plenty of time to fill out the necessary paperwork.”

  He handed me a clipboard with four or five forms attached to it. As I took it, I said, “I hope it’s OK that I brought my dog.”

  Justin tried to smile. “As long as he behaves,” he said.

  I figured I should start playing it up now that I was here, and told him, “Pepe says he will be muy bueno.”

  “Your dog speaks to you?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, his bright smile returning like an expression he could paste on and off his face at will.

  “Are there any questions on these forms that my dog should answer?” I asked.

  “Uh . . . I don’t think so,” he said, his smile staying in place this time. “But if there are any questions for your dog, I’m sure Dr. Lieberman will ask him. He’s very thorough.”

  “Good.”

  “Well, have a seat.” He gestured toward a grouping of black leather chairs across the way. “I’ll call the doctor and let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I chose to sit in one of the Stress-less Recliners since I was feeling somewhat stressed. I wasn’t used to pretending that my dog spoke. I was used to pretending that my dog didn’t speak. But it had gone pretty well so far; I just had to calm down and get through the paperwork. Pepe, on the other hand, seemed surprisingly calm; just lay quietly on my lap, soaking up the sunshine that came through the tall arched window behind us.

  The paperwork was pretty standard—much the same as I’d filled out for Suzanna when I first started seeing her: personal history, medical history, etc. When I came to the bla
nk for insurance information, I balked. I didn’t really want my provider thinking I was nuts. So I wrote in “private pay.” I had enough in the bank to cover a short time at Forest Glen (I hoped) and it would be more than worth it to find and protect my sister.

  “Ms. Sullivan!” It was Justin heading my way. “The doctor will see you now.”

  “Thanks.” I stood and handed him the clipboard. Justin didn’t even look at it, just said, “Follow me. I’ll take you up to Dr. Lieberman’s office.”

  Pepe and I followed him up the stairs to the second floor where he knocked on a door marked “Intake.” The door opened, and a tall, grey-haired man, with tortoise-shell glasses, wearing a crisp white shirt and yellow tie, beckoned me inside. Once through the door, he offered me his hand, introduced himself as Dr. Lieberman, and motioned me to a green leather chair opposite his desk.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sullivan,” he told me, looking through the paperwork Justin had handed him. “How are you today?”

  “I’m fine,” I told him. “My dog hopes you’re doing well, too.”

  “Ah, yes.” He glanced at Pepe, who had jumped up onto the other chair, then at the paperwork, then back at Pepe. “This must be Pepe, yes? It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well, little pup.”

  “He says gracias.”

  “Da nada,” said the doctor, evidently understanding Spanish. “So what would you say is the reason you are here, Miss Sullivan?”

  “Well, I hear my dog talking to me.”

  He looked thoughtful. “And this disturbs you?”

  “Well, no, actually Pepe is very helpful.” I looked at Pepe. I knew what he would say. He would say that he was more than helpful. In fact, if I was to be honest: “I think he actually sees me as his assistant.”

  The doctor was silent.

  I dug around in my purse and pulled out one of our business cards and handed it to Dr Lieberman. “In fact I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s the first Sullivan in Sullivan and Sullivan.”

  Dr. Lieberman set it down carefully. “And how does that affect you?”