“Give us a kiss, Precious. Give us a kiss.”
Sherlock fired off another warning woof. Apparently he didn’t feel comfortable with his daddy having a bird perched on his shoulder. What happened next had me gasping with surprise and alarm.
Ruby flew off my shoulder and landed… on Sherlock’s rump.
“Oh, snap,” I muttered.
Sherlock’s head started to turn. His neck slowly twisted until he was looking straight at the small parrot that was perched on his butt. There was a pregnant pause as I sucked in a breath. What was Sherlock going to do?
I was reminded of an afternoon I had spent at Turf Paradise, a horse racing track in Phoenix. Everyone would wait, with baited breath, for the gates to open and horses to take off. Well, that’s what he had here, only this time we had a single rider.
Sherlock took off like a bat out of hell. The leashes were pulled from my grip. I hastily retrieved Watson’s before she could bolt, too.
I have to hand it to Ruby. That little parrot was one helluva rider. The African gray parrot had partially extended her wings for balance but she managed to stay upright on Sherlock’s back.
Sherlock zoomed by us on his way to the kitchen. Ruby cackled with delight. The corgi literally spun around on Clara’s tiled kitchen floor and sprinted back by us. Ruby was doing her head-bobbing thing as they went by a second time.
Finally, after the fourth circuit through the house, Sherlock made it back into the living room, checked his rear to see if he had dislodged his rider, and once he saw that he hadn’t, did something that amazed me.
He dropped to the ground and rolled.
Before I could shout an order for Sherlock to stop – I didn’t want Ruby to be hurt – I caught myself yet again. Ruby apparently had another skillset besides being a bronco rider, and that was a being a log roller. The moment Sherlock hit the ground and rolled Ruby waddled off his back and onto his stomach. Sherlock was on his feet in a flash. Ruby had already returned to her perch on his rump.
Sherlock gave me an exasperated look and again rolled. Once more Ruby log-rolled the corgi and landed on his back as he rose to his feet. I burst out laughing, as did Vance and Clara.
“That is hands down the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” Clara squeezed out between laughs. “Just when you think you know your pet she goes and does something like that!”
I walked towards Sherlock and noticed I got both bronco and rider’s attention. On a whim, I tapped my shoulder and called to Ruby. Sure enough, the parrot flew to my shoulder and was back to nuzzling my face.
“You’re a little on the creepy side, Dr. Doolittle,” Vance quipped.
“You’d better take her,” I told Clara. “I need to make certain Sherlock is okay.”
Clara reached for Ruby, much to the parrot’s dismay. The little parrot squawked in protest. Loudly. Once she was safely back inside her cage I squatted down next to Sherlock.
“Are you okay, pal? You probably have never had a rider, huh?”
The look Sherlock threw me suggested he never wanted another and, should I disagree, I could go jump in front of a bus. I ruffled his fur and picked up his leash. Vance handed me Watson’s and we turned for the door.
We thanked Clara for the use of her home, while steadfastly refusing her offer to stay for dinner. We both desperately needed fresh air. Once we were outside I turned to Vance, made sure we weren’t being watched, and shuddered.
And then shuddered again.
“It’s too bad someone didn’t record that,” Vance lamented. “That could have gone viral on the internet. People pay big money to see that kind of thing.”
“That parrot sure took to me,” I recalled.
“Have you ever owned a parrot before?” Vance asked. “Maybe she could sense you were a bird lover?”
I shook my head, “Nope. Sherlock was the very first pet I’ve ever had, followed almost immediately by Watson.”
“Clara Hanson sure was something,” Vance decided.
“She creeps the hell out of me,” I admitted.
“She certainly seems to like you,” Vance said, with a smirk on his face. He gave me a grin. “So, tell me. Is she your type?”
I hit Vance on the arm. Hard.
FIVE
“Now what are you barking at?” I asked Sherlock as we pulled out of the library’s parking lot on the west side of town.
I should back up just a moment. It was now Tuesday morning, just past 10am. I had just anonymously donated a stack of my books to the local library, just to see if there might be any interest in them here in PV. As I was getting back in my Jeep I noticed a vendor had set up shop selling Christmas trees in the far corner of the library’s parking lot. A pickup truck, complete with a full-sized camper, was parked nearby. Curious to see how Sherlock would react, and also remembering that I still hadn’t put up a single decoration back home, I purchased a tree.
Ever try to haul an oversized item in a vehicle with no room to haul it? What a pain. I will be cleaning needles out of my Jeep for months to come, I’m sure. Thankfully, I could roll the back window of my Jeep down and stick the part of the tree that didn’t fit through the opening. I had to laugh once I saw what it looked like. It looked as though I had an unfortunate run-in with a tree while going in reverse. Down a hill.
Sherlock and Watson absolutely loved it. They knew something was up and kept rearing up on their hind legs to peer over the back seat. Thankfully I knew they couldn’t get back there, but it was funny watching them try.
As soon as we had made it back to Main, traveling east, Sherlock and Watson finally tired of peering at the tree poking out of the back window and settled down on their seats. However, at the exact moment Sherlock curled up, he was suddenly back on his feet and barking for all he was worth. Naturally Watson had to join him.
“What are you barking at?” I had asked. We were driving down PV’s busiest street, at the busiest time of day. There were cars, people, and all kinds of activities happening all around us. There was no way to tell what could have set the corgi off. “If there’s something you’d like me to check out then I don’t suppose you could help me out and point at that which you’re barking at? Whaddya say?”
Surprisingly Sherlock rushed over to the right side of the Jeep and thrust his nose out one of the small gaps I had left in either passenger window. He barked several times. Watson pushed her nose through, too, and also added her two cents.
I looked right. We were just passing Gary’s Grocery and the demolition crew hard at work taking down the old Square L convenience store. All the same machines were still there and were presently in use. The backhoe was busy loading up the debris from the bulldozer, which was busy turning the store into a pancake. One dump truck was half full and the other was empty, awaiting its turn. The cargo van was also there, but parked farther away.
“I’ll be glad when that place is gone,” I said aloud, to no one in particular. “Then maybe I’ll be able to drive by it without the dogs going ballistic. Sherlock? Care to give it a rest? There’s nothing there to report, pal. It’s just a demolition zone now, that’s all.”
Once we made it home I unloaded the tree, tried to vacuum up as many of the needles as I could from the back of my Jeep, and promptly gave up once I saw that somehow each needle must’ve super-glued itself to my Jeep’s mats. I dug out the tree holder I had seen in the garage on more than one occasion and set the tree up in my living room, to the left of the fireplace.
There. Now, with a tree currently sitting indoors, in my own house, I was curious to see how Sherlock would react to it. I had left both corgis in the master bedroom and had closed the door during the setup process. Now that the tree was upright and inside the house, it was time to, if you’ll pardon the pun, let the dogs out.
Sherlock trotted out of the room, headed straight to the living room, and gazed at the newest addition to the house decor. Then he promptly turned his back on the tree and ambled towards his basket of doggie toys. I sta
red at the tree for a few moments longer, half expecting Sherlock to return to it for a closer examination.
Nothing.
The little booger didn’t have the slightest interest in the house’s newest decoration. Nor did Watson, for that matter. Well, maybe the tree needed to be decorated. My house’s predecessor must have had Christmas decorations somewhere around here. Maybe in the attic? I certainly hadn’t seen anything else in the garage.
My cell rang. It was Jillian.
“Hello, Zachary! Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I just put up a Christmas tree and was about ready to go on a scavenger hunt for some decorations. I figure old Aunt Bonnie must’ve had some ornaments somewhere around here.”
“How very festive of you! Would you like some help?”
“You won’t catch me turning down free help. I’d love some.”
“Excellent! We’ll be right over. See you in a few.”
I looked at Sherlock and hooked a thumb towards the stairs.
“I have to go to the attic. Will you two be okay down here or would you like to…”
Sherlock trotted off before I had time to finish my sentence. He glanced at Watson as he passed her and walked towards the stairs. After a second’s worth of hesitation, Watson joined him. I found the two of them waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs. Once I had carried each of them up the flight of steps we headed to the bedroom with the attic access in the closet.
“I won’t be long,” I told the dogs. “Wait for me.”
Tucked away in a far corner of the attic I hit the proverbial jackpot. I found over a dozen boxes all labeled ‘Xmas Decorations’ in a neat scrawl written across the top. I took at least half a dozen of the boxes down the attic stairs when it hit me. Jillian had said ‘we’ll’. So who else was she bringing over? It’s not like her to pull any surprises on me.
I hurriedly carried the dogs back down to the first floor and then brought my boxes down. A quick check of the house had me cringing. I had little bits of trash and dirty dishes all over the coffee table and I could see that I hadn’t tidied up the kitchen since… since… well, probably since the last time I had Jillian over.
The next 15 minutes disappeared in the blink of an eye. The kitchen was cleaned. The dishwasher was unloaded. I even took the trash out. Satisfied with the house’s current condition, I returned to the living room and, in a rare moment of inspiration, turned on the TV and set the channel to one of those digital audio channels. I heard a car pull up outside just as Bing Crosby began crooning about white Christmases. It had to be Jillian.
I started towards the door when I heard three distinctive thuds as three separate car doors were slammed shut. I looked down at Sherlock. By this time both corgis were staring at the front door, having heard the car approach as well.
I held up a finger, “No. No barking. They’re guests, okay?”
I heard Jillian knock. She never seemed to enjoy ringing the doorbell. Sherlock started with his warning woofs. Watson stared at her packmate, as if to say that she was okay with whatever course of action he deemed to choose.
I opened the door and was surprised to see Jillian, Hannah, and a young boy I had never seen before. This had to be Colin, Hannah’s son. Both Hannah and the boy appeared to be quiet and withdrawn. I groaned silently. Something must have happened with Hannah’s jerk of a husband. I looked at Jillian and opened my mouth to ask a question when she quickly shook her head no. Her eyes met mine and I could see that they were pleading with me to be okay with this. I gave her a slight nod. I opened the door as wide as it could and gave my guests what I hoped was a welcoming smile.
“Hey there! Come in! It’s cold out there.” A few woofs sounded from behind me. “Sherlock, Watson, come here.”
Two corgis appeared by my side, as if they had been waiting for me to issue that particular command.
“Guys, we have some guests. This is… Sherlock? Stop woofing. They’re friends. Hello, Hannah.” I looked at the boy and offered him a friendly smile. I held out a hand. “You’re Colin, right?”
The boy sullenly nodded. He gave me a lackluster hand shake.
“Hannah, Colin, bear with me. I need to make introductions or else I’m going to have a canine mutiny on my hands. Guys, this is Sherlock and Watson.”
Both corgis craned their necks to look up at our two guests. Sherlock looked at Hannah, whined, and raised a paw, as if he wanted to shake hands with her. Hannah smiled fleetingly at the dogs and gave each one a pat on the head. Colin seemed to perk up the moment he noticed four sets of canine eyes now watching him.
“Can I pet your dogs?” the boy timidly asked.
I nodded, “Sure. But, I should warn you about something.”
Alarmed, Colin looked up at me.
“What?”
“If you pet them, or pay any amount of attention to them, they won’t leave you alone as long as you’re in this house.”
The boy smiled at that. I ushered him into the living room, gestured for him to take a seat on the floor, and waited for everyone else to sit down. Jillian, who knew what was coming, stifled a giggle.
“What is it?” I heard Hannah ask in a hushed voice. “What’s the matter?”
“Colin likes dogs, right?” Jillian asked.
Hannah nodded, “Yes. Why?”
“Watch this. Okay, Zachary. You can release the hounds.”
Both corgis were watching me. Waiting. I grinned and squatted down to drape an arm around each of them.
“Are you ready?” I asked them.
“Awwwooooo!” Sherlock howled. He only had eyes for the boy.
Watson was wriggling. Kinda. She was in the process of doing this slo-mo crawl across the carpet, all without breaking her ‘down’. I looked over at Colin and grinned at him.
“Ready to be properly introduced, corgi style?”
“Uh, sure?”
“Okay, guys. Go get him.”
By the time I said ‘him’ both corgis had launched themselves at the boy and had knocked him over onto his back. Sherlock had draped himself across Colin’s chest – as though he was afraid he’d get away – and was licking the boy’s face with well-timed licks. Watson was barking excitedly and was darting in every time Colin, in an effort to get away from Sherlock’s long tongue, would look her way. Then he’d get another kiss on a different part of his face.
“Ack-pbth! What the… Geez, these dogs are strong!”
However, no one could mistake the laughter or the joy which was emanating from Hannah’s son. He was smiling, giggling uncontrollably, and rolling around on the floor while both corgis circled him like lions circling their kill.
The dogs loved it.
“We needed this,” I heard Hannah confidentially tell Jillian in a hushed tone. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Zachary,” Jillian said.
I let Colin suffer under the ‘corgi-attack’ for another minute or two before I called them off. Colin sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of an arm. He looked over at the dogs, smiled, and then twisted around to look at his mother sitting nearby.
“Mom, do you think we could get a dog? One like that?” he finished, pointing at Sherlock.
“We’ll see, sweetheart,” Hannah told the boy. “We’ll see.”
I clapped my hands together and stood up.
“Okay, look at all the slave labor I have at my disposal.”
Hannah smiled at me and nodded.
“We’re here, ready to help. Put us to work.”
I pointed at the boxes I had brought down and then I pointed at the tree.
“I’m looking for decorations to put on the tree. I figure they’ve got to be in there somewhere. Feel free to go through those boxes and see if there’s anything good in any of them. There’s probably half a dozen other boxes in the attic, waiting to come down. I’ll go get them.”
By the time I had the rest of the Christmas boxes sitting in the living room, alon
g with a few others I found after conducting a thorough search of the rest of the house’s closets, I had nearly two dozen dusty boxes of various sizes sitting inside my living room. Jillian and Hannah were slowly and methodically going through the boxes, while Colin kept the dogs entertained.
Turns out Aunt Bonnie really enjoyed decorating. It also looks as though Bonnie must’ve either been part Scandinavian or else she really enjoyed red and white decorations. Blankets, trinkets, candy dishes, rugs, tree skirts, and all manner of bric-a-brac were there.
“So how would you like to do this?” Jillian asked me.
“If you’re asking how I’d like things decorated,” I began, “then I can say that I haven’t a clue. I wouldn’t say no to some creative input.”
Jillian opened another box and pulled out a large red table cloth with white snowflakes all over it. She automatically moved towards the oak dining table. Hannah began clearing it.
“Do I have free reign to decorate how I’d like?” Jillian asked.
“Have at it,” I assured her. “I like how you’ve decorated your store and your house. Feel free to work your magic in here.”
Several hours later it looked as though Christmas had blown up in my house. While a few of the decorations found their way to other parts of the house, the vast majority of the decorations were in the living room. The tree, after finding a box of carefully packed hand-blown glass ornaments, had been decorated with care.
Even Colin helped. I appointed him duly-designated master of candy canes. Every time I checked on his progress he had a piece of candy cane sticking out of his mouth. I had to assure Hannah, after she pulled me aside, that I had picked up a box of candy canes the other day and he was more than welcome to the whole thing if he wanted.
A solid red tree skirt, trimmed with faux white fur, had been placed beneath the tree. The lights, I had noticed with dismay, were the old fashioned C7 bulbs. I hadn’t seen bulbs that size since I was a kid back in the early 80s. Next year I’d replace them with the much more cost-efficient LED strands.
Case of the Holiday Hijinks Page 7
