by Bobby D. Lux
“Wanna trade?” Clay said, as we stopped, inches apart. Our eyes connected, every sense heightened. We were one dog in that moment. We shared the same emotions, the same fury, the same pain, and the same fear. We both fought the urge to walk away, but I wasn’t going to let him, and I wasn’t going anywhere. “My arm, your leg? What do you say?”
I’d never been in a fight like this, ever. Clay was a mess; he was covered in holes along his arms, legs, and face that all spilled blood with every heartbeat. I imagined I looked the same way. Probably worse. There was a gust of wind and the salt from the ocean stung as it danced across bite marks that I didn’t know I had. The warm blood trickled down my face. I couldn’t close my jaw all the way, but I could still bite.
I was next to the wall and braced myself against it to hold me up.
“Time to finish this,” Clay said.
“Take your best shot,” I said, as a last-minute idea showed itself in my mind.
“Looks like we know who the stronger dog is after all, don’t we, cop?”
Clay shot in at me with everything he had. He catapulted himself off the ground and aimed right at my throat. I took a breath and smiled. I put every ounce of my weight onto my bad leg.
My leg crumbled and I fell to the cold ground as Clay sailed over me. He implanted his nose, face, and cranium into the cement wall behind me with a dull thud. His dead weight landed on me and I felt his wilted body spasm in shock. I pushed him off me with my leg. Sure, the dog in me wanted to finish him. It would’ve been easy to take that one last bite, but Clay said it himself. He was right about one thing. I was a cop. The cop in me knew that wasn’t the right way to handle it. It was over. I won.
“Yeah, but we know who’s smarter,” I said. Like Nipper, I too heard the sirens approach.
Grand City PD was on the scene in minutes. An anonymous citizen reported the gun shot, and they were chasing after Nitro, who, it turns out, had escaped from his partner at the dog show. That won’t look good in the final report. Nitro managed to swim towards a breakwater and got himself stuck out there.
I took cover around a corner as animal control treated Clay. They scooped him up and took him away. The Grand City guys stood around and tried to figure out how to get to Nitro without getting wet. They decided on calling in the harbor watch, who were only twelve minutes out.
“Suspect down,” a voice piped up, over the officers’ radios. “He’s in custody at the end of the pier. Request backup. Looks like he was taken down by a German Shepherd. Uh, definitely not one of ours.”
Good dog, Nipper.
I was done taking cover. A sunset had formed in the direction back towards Grand City proper. I had another hour or so of good light left in the day. I figured that was as good of a direction as any to limp towards. I’d see Nipper and Ernie back at home.
“Hey wait,” Nitro said, barking to me. “Come on, Fritz. Help me get out of here! I’m freezing.”
“Sorry,” I said, knowing he’d be dry and safe in a few minutes. “No can do, pal. I’m going home. Besides, I’m retired. By the way, I appreciate the assist out there. Thanks, Nitro.”
EPILOGUE - One More Place Left to Mark
“Ten?” the beagle said, to a trotting, plump Pekinese as they picked up the pace to keep up with the rest of the pack, “Are you sure? I heard it was more like a gang of fifteen.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me, either way,” the plump Pekinese said.
The two fell back into the group of dogs that followed Nipper around the dog park, but remained at a respectable distance from Nipper and Scarlet. She clung to Nipper’s side and took every chance she could to nuzzle into his neck while they walked. Some of the dogs simply said hi to him. Some welcomed him back. A few apologized to him. One even said he secretly liked Nipper’s song. Some had questions about what kind of gun it was and if Nipper saw any pound time. Others still asked if there was anything they could do for him. Scarlet stopped and addressed them all.
“Look fellas,” she said, as the reigning queen of the park who’d finally found her king. “All you need to know is that this dog standing here next to me is a hero. He was brave and strong and quick and ruthless and he alone saved me from certain doom. If you’ve heard a rumor about what happened, let me tell you, I promise that it doesn’t do justice to what Nipper did. Now why don’t everyone here leave us alone and think about what you might have done if you were in a similar situation. And then you think about what Nipper here did for me.”
I saw Nipper smirk to himself. Sure, he happened to save her in the process, but she’d never know that Nipper had to save himself first. Scarlet planted a nice long kiss on Nipper for everyone to see and gawk at. The dogs soon scattered and resumed their miscellaneous dog park activities while Scarlet led Nipper to one of those quieter parts of the dog park.
Ernie and Saucy had found a corner of the park back around by the trees where they roughhoused together. Ernie let her win, and suddenly, with him lying on his side, he stopped flailing his arms like an eager puppy and looked at her. She too stopped and sat down next to him, genuinely wondering if something was wrong.
“You’re not a street fleabag,” Saucy said.
“I know,” Ernie said, as he rolled over and looked as sophisticated of a dog as he was ever going to be. He placed his paw on top of hers and just kept it there. “It just sounded cool at the time.”
I’m positive that the same thought passed though all three of our heads: it’s about damn time, Ernest Tubbs.
There was one dog oblivious to any of the drama and intrigue at the dog park that day. Missy was allowed in for her first official visit within the hallowed outer fence. She had a stick, some dirt, a grass stain across her back, and plenty of room to run. I’ve never seen a dog so happy just being a dog. I’m not saying I got emotional watching it, but then again, maybe I did.
She was under the watching and moderately concerned eyes of Officer and Mrs. Hart, who stood together along the outer fence. Simon played a video game in the Intimidator. They didn’t give us any grief about escaping. The fence was repaired, Ernie’s hole was covered again, but it was okay. They were more concerned with getting me fixed up… and not in the way that Ernie was afraid of (which also did not happen). My wounds looked worse than they were. I healed up nice and good. I’ve had worse.
They weren’t talking, but Officer and Mrs. Hart stood next to each other at the fence. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him. I don’t know any better about the human way of doing things, but that seemed good enough for now.
As for me…
The outline of the moon shined down on me through the clouds, but there was no time to ponder its meaning. I was back in pursuit. Flat terrain, grass. A piece of cake. My target would be in my grasp in another step or two. All I needed to do was jump. I’ve been here before.
I suppose Grand City wasn’t as bad off as I’d thought. So what if there’s nowhere new for me to mark? What that really means is that this city was mine. I’ve claimed every inch for my own. I could go anywhere and know who’s who and what’s what without thinking twice. Some of the streets and buildings weren’t what they once were, but who was? And who’d want to be?
It wasn’t that Grand City stopped growing; it was me who stopped looking for something new. I was afraid of running out of wisdom. That’s one thing you learn when you think you’ve said everything you have to say: it’s time to go out and find a new story and some new wisdom. So, on second thought, I think there are still a few places left in Grand City where I haven’t left my mark yet. I suppose I should start looking.
Before I could do any of that, it was time to take this guy down. He didn’t need to help me by hanging his arm out in my direction, but I’ll take it. Down you go, good sir. I’ll never get used to the taste of metal, cotton, and dried leather, but that’s what Grand City made their protective training suits out of; same as when I was a pup. For all I know, I bit into this same arm piece years ago when I was the
trainee.
Officer Hart blew his whistle. I let go and sat down next to him as we faced a fresh line of K-9 recruits and their prospective partners. For my effort, Officer Hart fed me a few treats from the bag around his waist. The officer in the training suit got up and said he was fine. Of course he was. I took it easy on him.
“Good boy, Fritz,” Officer Hart said. The prospective officers lightly applauded me while the line of new K-9’s stood still at attention. I nodded to them.
“That’s how you do it,” Officer Hart said. “Just like Fritz there. Clean, quick, and effective. I’m biased, but he’s the best dog to come through this academy, and there’s no one better to learn from. That’s it for today. Class dismissed.”
Officer Hart rubbed my ears while the prospective officers continued to practice basic commands with what daylight was left. I looked forward to showing them the obstacle course in the morning.
Grand City isn’t going anywhere. And neither am I.
THE END
Acknowledgments
With many thanks to:
Laura Lux, Ben Lux, Mike Lux – Family, love, support, the usual.
Zachary Locklin – The music for the Dog Duty Podcast is great.
Jara Jones – Thanks for the years of support and input.
Katie Lamberton, Joe Hogan – Thanks for letting me borrow your dogs for the story.
E. Van Lowe, Shelly Lowenkopf, Aram Saroyan – Thanks for showing me the ropes.
Stephanie Gardellis – Thanks for loaning Queenie and Laika to help with promotion. They’ll be in sequel, I promise.
Author’s Note
For those interested in such trivia, Nipper, Ernie, and Missy were my family’s dogs when I was growing up. Nipper was some sort of German Shepherd mix, and Ernie was…. Ernie. He was billed as a Golden Retriever, but he was orange and that was the extent of any resemblance. He was a tough little guy who was furiously loyal to his family. Nipper could be a grump when wanted to, but I’ve never seen a dog so happy to see you every morning. The two of them spent their entire lives, nearly fifteen years each, together as best buddies.
Missy came later into the fold, and as such, she stayed inside the house while Nipper and Ernie had our backyard for their home. Their paths only crossed when Missy would bark at Nipper and Ernie through the window while the two of them couldn’t be bothered by her. Only after Nipper had passed away and when Ernie was much older (and far tamer), did Ernie and Missy strike up a friendship of sorts. Or at least they would nap and eat spaghetti together.
In a bit of a creative role-reversal, it was Nipper who would escape from the backyard any chance he could, even as an old dog who could barely walk at the age of fifteen. If the gate was open, he was going to make a run for it. Ernie had no interest in an escape. His backyard was his backyard and he liked it that way.
Full disclosure, my father was a police officer (and an emphatic NO to the question if the rocky marriage between Officer and Mrs. Hart was a reflection of our home life), and briefly considered becoming a K-9 handler. One of the reasons he passed was because we weren’t sure how Nipper and Ernie would react to having a new “friend” at home. As an adult many years later, I thought what if? This book is the answer to that question.
I suspect this isn’t the last we’ve heard from Fritz. During my “research” phase on this novel, I kept hearing stories and rumors about bodies turning up at the cat races. Maybe Fritz will investigate one of those down the line. We’ll see…
About the Author
Bobby D. Lux has a Master of Professional Writing Degree from USC. His fiction, non-fiction, and poetry have appeared here and there in online and print. He co-wrote the screenplay for “Up the Valley and Beyond” which played at the Cannes Film Festival in 2012.
You can visit him online at www.bobbydlux.com.
