by KC Frantzen
I understand her body language. The humans do too. She trots up, happy tail swinging side to side. Sniff. Oh, one of the truck scents belongs to this creature!
“DAD! You have returned home.”
“Dad,” as April calls him, reaches out to pat her head. She sniffs his paw longer than seems customary. Perhaps that’s what security guards do. Her tail moves slower and slower.
“Something is amiss with my people. Wait – a dog in Mom’s arms?” Her tail transforms to stone. Her eyes narrow and she growls at me.
“YOU! Do you have clearance? If not, you will not stay.”
Lady, this creature is growling about clearance and you’re mad at me too. You said to be still, so I was. I was, I was…
“April! No growling!” commands “Dad.”
The security guard takes another long sniff, glares at “Mom,” and again at me. She grumbles, “Surely Dad had nothing to do with this breach. How shall I be responsible for protection when they refuse to follow protocol? I shall retreat under the shady rhododendron.”
Mom strokes my back while Dad says, “It’s okay May. She’ll come around.”
There’s a speck of blonde fur showing between the leaves. And a voice. “I certainly will not ‘come around’. I thought we settled this matter.”
Dad pats his thigh. “Apey, she needed a home and her name is May. Help her feel welcome. It’ll be okay.”
April growls, “Another freeloader.”
I gulp. “Another? Freeloader?”
“Correct. You have no purpose here.”
“What’s ‘purpose’?”
“Things are perfectly arranged. Hans manages indoors, I control outside. The last freeloader left within a week. You will be no different.”
“A week! But I have a new name, and beautiful new collar!”
“You have no clearance. Nor have I been informed of an unfulfilled purpose.”
Wish I knew about “purpose.”
Mom huffs, “April’d better come around! Alright May. Let’s go meet your brother. Hans is a Schnauzer too.”
So I am family? But April just said…
She reappears, eyes wide. “Brother? With everything going on? NO! I cannot be responsible for one more thing.” Her eyes burn at me. “The fact remains, YOU have no clearance, no purpose. I shall consider taking matters into my own paws.”
Oh no. What am I into?
Dad scruffles my ears. “Sorry May. We’ll give her time, she’ll come around.” He unlocks the door to the house and calls out, “Haahh-ahhns! C’mon boy.”
“AAAAaaaOOOOOoooohhhhh.”
What? A ritual greeting? This howling dog looks like me, except bigger.
“Hey Dad, hey Mom. I missed you! Welcome home! Hey Dad, hey Mom!” The ceremony stops when he stretches his nose for a closer sniff. “Hey…who’s this?”
Dad smiles. “Come meet your new little sister.”
“Be nice,” says Mom.
Hans bounces on his hind legs, stretching and sniffing. When all four paws finally hit the floor, he circles us again.
“AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaooooOOOOOOOOOO!”
I stuff my face under Mom’s arm. When Hans makes another pass, I claw over her shoulder. “He’s closing in for the kill!”
“Ouch, little one. Hans wouldn’t hurt anybody!” Mom grabs my front paws and unclenches them. Then in one smooth motion, she kisses my cheek and puts me on the floor.
Hans dances three quick steps towards me, then stops, and sits down.
I freeze, tail tucked, whites of my eyes showing, mind blank with fear. Thump thump thumpthumpthumpthump.
Mom reaches down and pats my back ever so gently, and steps away.
I squint and hold my breath for almost ever, but I can hold it no longer. I exhale…Nothing happens. I toughen my will and glance at Hans, then away, then back again. Is that understanding on his face?
I relax a little more, so he politely steps towards me. I step closer too and we circle and sniff each other’s nether regions in greeting.
“Now y’all be nice, and Hans, you be a gentleman and get acquainted,” says Dad as he and Mom fade into another room. “Time’s getting short. We’re moving Friday.”
Oh no! April said less than a week. What will happen to me then?
“Hi I’m Hans.” He touches his nose to mine. “You gonna be living with us now? You’ll like it. They are much nicer than the people I had before.”
“The humans seem nice. What’s with the grouch outside?”
“Oh April’s alright. Serious about her job though. Best give her some space. With the humans, I’ve gotten into trouble only once, and…uh, it was my fault.” He grimaces and talks to himself. “Why did I bring this up? It’s embarrassing but perhaps it’ll help. Somehow.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Figures. Okay, I’d lived here for several months. They even let me sleep in their bed for awhile. Then one day, I saw Dad’s suitcase on the floor. Again. He was putting his clothes in it. Humans do it before they leave for days or weeks. Odd.”
I look into the other room. “Humans are odd. Look at these! Pulling things off shelves, wrapping them in newspaper, and placing them into cardboard boxes.” I smile at Hans. “So that’s what you and April call them, Dad and Mom? They’re chatting and laughing and happy.”
“Yeah, it’s a real family, a Forever Home.”
“That would be great! What’s that big paper with the lines and colors they pulled off the wall? They’re folding it.”
“They call it a map. It’s pictures of what the land is like. I don’t know how to make sense of it myself.” He moves off to the side.
“I’ve never been anywhere like this. Even with everything, your house smells clean. Oh. You got quiet. I’m sorry. Go on.” I move to sit nearby.
“That’s okay, I was hoping we’d change the subject. Uh, anyway, I hate when they leave me in charge of the house. It only happens when they’re gone. I’d much rather be doing my usual job.”
I look at him, puzzled.
“You know sitting in Mom’s lap, bumping Dad’s leg to let him know I’m near, that sort of thing – a companion dog. Mom says I’m good at it.”
Huh. Maybe that’s what a purpose is, a job.
“Well, this time I got kind of mad about being left behind–”
Is he blushing under those magnificent whiskers and beard? “What’d you do?”
“I uh…snuck into Dad’s suitcase and peed all over his stuff.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did,” he says in a glum voice. “I was pretty mad.” He gives me a quick glance from under his thick eyebrows. “They didn’t find out until the next morning. I hardly slept. But some things you can’t take back, you know? When the racket-maker sounded–”
“Huh?”
“You know, the thing that buzzes and disturbs your sleep? ‘Alarm clock’ they call it.”
“Got it. What happened?”
“When it buzzed, I rushed away as soon as they opened the bedroom door. They thought I had to go out. Then they smelled it I guess, it was real strong. I heard Dad bark something, and Mom commanded me to ‘Come!’
“But I didn’t. I was real sorry…and quite ashamed. I did it when I was mad, you understand…. But mostly…I think…Because…I was…afraid.”
Fighting tears I whisper, “What did they do to you?”
“I was horrified when they drug me from behind the recliner. Dad shoved my nose into his disgusting damp clothes, and yelled a lot. But you need to know something.” He turns, looking at me earnestly, clearing his throat with a soft growl. “They didn’t hit me or kick me. I was real surprised too. That’s when I started trusting them. Mom had told me they’d never beat me or kick me, like where I came from. She’s kept her promise, so far. Dad too.”
I whimper back more tears. Could this be true for me?
“And May, I’ve never done anything like that again. I want to earn their respect. So, like I said. It
’s a good family. I’ve been blessed.”
I find my voice, barely. But I can’t look at him. “I’ve felt a foot in the ribs too, more than once.”
“No one should have to endure abuse. May, I am terribly sorry. But it happens.” He hesitates, nods, then walks a few steps towards the wall and flap flap vanishes!
“Hans! Where’d you go?” Wow. Things sure can change for the better with a shift of a whisker…or a phone call! As I’m smelling the spot where he disappeared (which smells like outside – odd), he pops his head back through, bumping my cheek. Yikes!
“Oh I apologize! Have you used a doggie door? They’re GREAT! Anytime you want outside, walk through. Dad showed me how it worked. He smashed my face into the wall but then the wall moved and I was out. Try it!” Flap flap.
I can bask in the sun and listen to birds any time I want? Righty-o! I burst through flap but I’m one step high flap so I trip and roll.
“MAY! I forgot to mention the step. Please forgive me!”
I find my legs, then shake it off. “That’s okay.” But I stiffen when I hear a “Ggggrrrrrrrrrrrr.” April!
“Grrrrr. I have grave responsibilities as head of security. There have been zero attacks from enemies, foreign or domestic. Grrr. We shall not start a new trend, Pest. You have no place with us. Grrrrrrrr.”
Hope this doggie door works both ways. Flap, flap.
Just after supper, Dad is all smiles, sitting pushed back from the table. “You’re right, Babe. The turkey sandwich and salad was quick. Thanks.”
Then he calls us Schnauzers.
“Sit Hans,” says Dad in a simple plain voice.
Hans sits, eyes shining, intense and bright.
“So polite. Here’s your bite of turk with a dab of cranberry to top it off. Good boy.” Dad reaches down with a Hans-size portion.
“Wow,” I yip, and spring to snatch a bite of the best-smelling-thing ever.
Dad jerks his hand back, turkey still in it. “Ho, young lady!”
“MAY!” Mom squeals.
What’d I do NOW? You’re just grown up Monsters! All of you! As my front paws skid, Hans shoots me a dirty look and steps aside. I duck into the hallway and face them, away from paws, teeth or claws. You offered food. I was getting it…That pep talk Hans gave me about how wonderful it is here. I should have known better…
“May, where are your manners?” demands Mom.
But I don’t know what “manners” are. Where would they be? I’ll get them if you tell me where they are.
But they all ignore me. Except Mom. Her eyes are still squinty.
Hans resumes his position, having avoided my teeth which could have mistaken him for turkey. And Dad starts again. I watch the gentleman Schnauzer politely receive it, making certain his whiskers don’t get cranberry on them.
“Mmmmm.”
Dad turns to me. “Now it’s your turn, May.”
I look at Mom who is looking at Dad. Then I peek at Dad. That bite smells soooo good.
Mom frowns. “You’d better learn some manners!”
“COME May,” he commands.
You calling me? I look behind, but no one is there.
“May. Come.”
I stay, and allow myself to think. Since Hans was here first, he got his first. Maybe that’s “manners.” I watch my new brother washing his whiskers, then I glance at Dad. He doesn’t seem to be playing Monster games, and, he does seem to have some for me. I rise and put one foot in front of the other, skulking along. (But I can still feel Mom’s eyes.)
“May. Come May,” Dad coaxes.
I adjust to half-speed, and close the distance. Oh…myyyy…Thank you.
“It’s good to see your nub wagging again,” says Dad in his kind voice.
Mom smiles. “Good girl. Very polite. Let’s remember to mind your manners next time.” She reaches down and pats my head.
What’s that sound? The crinkly bag Dad tossed in the back!
“May, we have something special for you. It’s family tradition. You will have a toy all your own.” He pulls out a very interesting item. It has a purple body with a pair of orange and purple claws and six small orange legs, three on each side, plus two orange antennas.
For ME? I LOVE it! (Whatever it is…) Even though I messed up four times today – but who’s counting – you have a gift? I don’t know what to say.
Mom’s paws jerk to her mouth. “Ohmygosh. A stuffed toy lobster!”
With a flourish, Dad presents it. I cautiously take hold by the antennas, trying to remember my manners.
While Hans circles in a happy dance, Mom giggles. “So that’s what else was going on in the truck. Look how she’s carrying it. The claws bob up and down. Hilarious!”
I growl and shake it. The padded claws smack me around, but it’s worth it. Dad’s grin is almost ear to ear.
“I couldn’t leave it there. It was in the sale bin by the register. Just a dollar. Uh oh, Babe. Someone is staring us down. Here bud-dog, you know we wouldn’t forget you.”
“Thanks Dad. Nice chewy,” Hans mumbles, mouth full of rawhide.
“Babe, let’s go take Apey a little turk and her new chewy. I figured she wouldn’t be too accommodating to our newest addition.”
Mom shakes her head. “No kidding, but you go ahead. I’ll clean up since you cooked. While you’re out, would you please get the extra bed from the garage for May?”
“Sure. Be right back.”
Hans smiles at me and says, “I understand special toys. When I first arrived, things were awful. Every time Dad or Mom saw my tennis ball lying around, they threw it at me! I scrambled for my life until April said they call it ‘playing’. When I figured it out, I relaxed and had some fun. Yawn. I’m going to bed. C’mon.” He grabs his chewy and takes off in a different direction.
I follow him, slinging Lobbie. But then there are four dogs in the hall. One looks exactly like Hans! And there’s another one with a lobbie just like mine. Where’d they come from? When I set Lobbie down to ask Hans, the other dog does too! Wonder of wonders!
“Hey Hans…” I sniff but it doesn’t smell like a dog. It smells like glass. But there’s something familiar. I move, it moves. HEY! That’s ME!
When he sees me standing nose to nose, he laughs. “That’s a mirror. It shows what we look like.”
“I’ve seen a reflection in the stove door, but never noticed myself before.”
“Yes, you look good. Time to move on and get to bed.”
After Dad gets me settled in, I lie awake, thinking about stuff.
I still can’t believe April did that for Hans. She grouches at me. I snagged her tail earlier, just playing, but she sure wasn’t happy about it. She scowled and said, “There are only two dog beds at the new place. No room for you, Pest.”
It makes me wonder. I scent other dogs on this bed they gave me, but they aren’t around. So…Where they will send me? Surely not back…to them…
This morning I decide to have fun with my first toy, my favorite toy, my Lobbie. I grab it and head to the kitchen to be near Mom. “It’s my very own!” I yip, slinging it side to side by the antennas. She smiles and continues to work, filling up a big box and listening to the box that talks and makes music.
Then I hear an awful sound – Mom gasps.
I drop Lobbie and slink to the corner. I lay my ears flat and turn to the wall, look back, then to the wall again. Please! How can I fix it? Don’t return me to them! I don’t know how…how to measure up, like Hans or April. They are real members of this family. Permanent.
I try to be very small, invisible maybe, to show the hurt in my heart.
But Mom doesn’t even notice me. After a few moments, she continues filling the box. Then she stops.
“May, I don’t hear you playing. Where are you?” She spots me trembling in the corner, tiny as I can be.
“May-Muffin, you’ve done nothing wrong – that I know of anyway. You’re okay, sweetie.” She scoops me up, kissing my closest ear.
I give a tentative kiss to hers. Thlp. I want to trust you, to please you. I’ll try and be good.
It’s Friday and I just realized what the deal is with all the packing. This won’t be my Forever Home any more.
Three days. Hardly forever.
Dad arrived awhile ago and April’s been supervising. She thinks she’s so smart, but I know how to supervise too. Dad looks tired. I’ve been watching him and Mom – out and back – to the truck and back again. Now it’s almost dark.
The truck seems stuffed already, but I spot Mom hanging clothes in the back. She says, “I’m arranging the last of it. Thank goodness it’s only for a few days until the house is finished. Nothing left to pack but ourselves and the dogs.”
He calls out, “Looks like it might rain. I’ll get the tarp. Glad we got one, in case.”
“Me too! Need help?”
“Nope, thanks. Go ahead.”
I watch him fasten a humongous blue plastic cover. “Tarp.”
Mom keeps talking. “The back seat is jammed! I’ll wedge my feet between my purse and the snack bag. You barely have room, Hon. The front seat only reclines one click. The four footers can make a spot atop the luggage and cooler. I’ll smooth these old towels for them to ride on. There. OW!” Mom just hit her head backing out from the truck.
Dad chuckles and kisses it. “Good thing you have a hard noggin!”
“Yeahhh. Takes one to know one!”
They stand a moment, arm in arm then Dad asks, “We ready?”
Mom takes a deep breath. “Let’s go!”
I dash away to hunt for Lobbie. Where is it? Can I take it wherever they send me? As I trot through the house, sounds echoing off the bare walls, I keep thinking. Last night Dad kept putting things in boxes and Mom cleaned “so the house will be ready for its next occupants.”
He has his talents, Mom has hers. Wonder what my talents are, besides supervising? Uh oh! Mom’s calling. “AAAAprillll…Hhhaaa-aaannnsss…Maaayyyyy…Wanna go?”
