Of Birds and Beagles

by Leslie O'Kane

  “Is Fang here? Or Malcolm?”

  “Not yet. But I’m expecting them to barge into my yard shortly. That’s another source of annoyance. It’s Magoo’s yard, not Fang’s, yet Magoo has to keep off the grass and stay above Fang’s reach.”

  “At least Fang chases the squirrels off your property, right? Is that why you allow your ex-boyfriend to keep his dog here?”

  “I don’t ‘allow’ him to. Malcolm drops him over the fence, then takes off. Once I chased Fang out of the yard and called Animal Control. But I don’t want to do that again and risk Fang getting hit by a car. I’ve also tried pulling nasty pranks on Malcolm. Sometimes I pick up Fang’s turds, then drop them on Malcolm’s doorstep. He just ignores whatever I do. So yesterday, I told Malcolm I was going to hire you to teach Fang to be better behaved in my yard, and that he was either going to pay for your services, or I’d take him to small claims court and sue him.”

  “Geez! Well, that explains the troll on my business Facebook page,” I grumbled.

  “Troll?”

  “I’ve been getting obscenity-laden posts from names like Magoo and Macaw on my Facebook page, ripping me and my career’s work to pieces. It started yesterday evening. And the posts contain atrocious grammar and spelling errors.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Malcolm. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. Other than his looks. I used to think it was so sexy that he was a cowboy...a rodeo rider, and so on. The man has that authentic-Coloradoan ruggedness in spades. As it turns out, though, he’s not just rough around the edges, but all the way through.”

  The woman couldn’t have picked two more opposite men to date than Malcolm and Russell, I thought.

  “In any case, you were way out of line by not running your plan past me prior to threatening Malcolm with a lawsuit. You’re going to have to tell him this was all your idea, and that I’m blameless. Otherwise, I’m not going to work with Fang today, or talk to Shirley.”

  “Fine, Allida. I’ll read Malcolm the riot act. And I’ll tell him that if he posts another time, I’m going to send a screen shot of it to his boss.”

  I sighed. “Something gives me the feeling that you’re not the kill-with-kindness type.”

  “Why would I be? It’s a stupid concept.”

  I laughed in spite of myself.

  Magoo flew up to Kelsey’s shoulder. Kelsey scratched his cheek with a finger, and he leaned his brightly colored little head into her strokes, just as a dog would have done. “Yesterday was the first time in the past year Magoo’s gone after an animal outside our property line without my giving him the command.”

  “And by command, you mean: ‘Go get that squirrel.’ Right?”

  “Right.”

  Just then, Magoo flew at one of the three squirrels on the fence. All three leapt to the ground on Shirley’s side of the fence and scattered.

  “Come here, Magoo,” Kelsey called. The bird swooped back toward her, landing on her forearm like a falcon. “Good boy.”

  “Good boy,” he parroted. Then he barked like large-chested dog.

  “Actually, Kelsey, I did look into parrot training on the internet last night. It’s fundamentally the same as dog training...using the clicker to get the bird to pay attention, and giving treats to reward the desired behavior, versus withholding treats for bad behavior. In other words, you should give him a treat when he says something you like. But when he barks, let him know you’re displeased. For instance, you could put the blanket over his cage or leave the room...assuming he doesn’t like to be alone.”

  “I can do that,” Kelsey said with confidence. “Huh. This dog-training thing of yours is pretty much just common sense.”

  “So are a lot of things. That doesn’t mean they’re easy to do consistently and correctly. Even I have to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t be lazy and let my dogs break my rules. And, truth be told, when my dogs get old, I will start cutting them slack and letting them up on the furniture and so forth.”

  “Huh. Makes my being a bird owner seem like a piece of cake.” She gestured at Shirley’s yard. “I really have trained Magoo to stay away from the neighbors’ dogs. And Magoo normally doesn’t bite the squirrels. I’m afraid they could give him rabies.”

  “Actually, small animals like mice and squirrels almost never get rabies.”

  “Really? I didn’t realize that. It’s lucky for Squirrelly Shirley.”

  “Because she feeds squirrels by hand, or something?”

  She nodded. “All the time. I’ve been worried Toofroo was going to wind up catching rabies from all of the squirrels with free run of the house.” She gave me a smirk. “Just so you know, Shirley’s the one who’s to blame for starting our troubles. Magoo is simply keeping the squirrels from climbing over the fence.”

  “In other words, you trained your parrot to chase the squirrels off the fence that you share?”

  She snorted as if she thought my question was portraying my admiration. “And she thinks her dog is in jeopardy as a result. But, like I told you, Magoo’s biting the beagle was an anomaly. And, trust me, Shirley wouldn’t hesitate to throw something at Magoo, if he were to fly over there one of these days.”

  I let out a groan, which I tried to cover for by clearing my throat. Her bird had no more right to enter the neighbor’s property than the neighbor’s beagle had to enter hers. Meanwhile, the innocent pets were at risk of injury, and not their blameworthy owners. This was far from the first time I’d mediated an angry-neighbor issue. Squabbling pet owners sometimes made me question whether or not I was just too impatient with human beings to do a good job as an animal trainer.

  “I know you find the squirrels annoying, Kelsey, but can’t you just retrain Magoo to chase them away from nibbling at your eaves? Sorry if I’m being too blunt, but unless you’re running a nut farm and the squirrels are stealing your inventory, I don’t see why this is such a big problem.”

  “Because I can’t leave my own door open for more than ten minutes. They don’t differentiate between my house and hers.”

  “The squirrels come inside your house?”

  “Mistaking it for Shirley’s,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “The squirrels must have some way of communicating with one another when they’ve found a chucklehead who’s willing to feed and house them. But apparently, they sometimes get our house numbers confused.”

  I studied her features, trying to determine if she was pulling my leg. Just then a man who looked like a male model for a romance cover opened Kelsey’s gate. A Doberman trotted into the yard, his nose to the ground as he picked up on my scent. The man glanced in our direction and locked eyes with Kelsey.

  “Whoops,” he said. “You’re home.”

  “I am indeed.” She put her hands on her hips. “I took the day off so we’d be here when you tried to sneak Fang into the yard. This is Allida Babcock, Malcolm.” She pointed at him and said, “That’s Malcolm Norfolk. Stop harassing her, Malcolm. You are not to send her one more disparaging message on her webpage! You hear me?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Malcolm asked, striding across the lawn.

  “She told me you’ve been being a troll on my Facebook page,” I said.

  He furrowed his brow as if puzzled.

  “Posing as Magoo or Macaw or Parrothead,” she explained.

  I did a double-take. I hadn’t repeated that final name to her, yet it had been one of the names the abusive poster had used. Damn it! I’d been right the first time. Malcolm wasn’t behind the nasty posts on my business page. Kelsey was my troll.

  Malcolm shifted his gaze to me. “Lady, she’s lying through her teeth. Those are all Kelsey’s online names. I ain’t gonna waste my time cursing out people on Facebook. I got too little free time as it is. Furthermore, I ain’t gonna waste it now on you two.”

  “He’s the liar,” Kelsey said to me, pointing at Malcolm. “He thinks he can take anything he wants, come and go as he pleases. He treats my home like it’s his ashtray.”


  “Hey, Kell, it’s like I told you already. You give back my rent money for the four full weeks this month since you booted me out...right after my rent check cleared, plus my damage deposit, and my last-month’s-rent deposit, and I’ll stop putting Fang in your yard. Till then, I’m gonna keep bringing Fang over till you paid the debt through all your doggie daycare.”

  Malcolm’s response seemed reasonable to me, yet Kelsey gaped and spread her arms in a do-you-see-what-I’m-dealing-with? gesture.

  “Whatever,” she then said to Malcolm. “But Fang is damaging my peace of mind. Therefore, I am hiring Allie to work with Fang, and I’m subtracting that total from your damage deposit.”

  “No, you’re not,” Malcolm and I said in unison. I continued, “This is my one and only session with you. Malcolm is the only person who can hire me to work with his dog.”

  “Yeah,” Malcolm said. He looked at me from head to foot and said, “But I ain’t going to hire you. You’re the girlfriend of that pipsqueak Kell used to date. She’s just using you to get him back in her life.”

  “That’s not true,” Kelsey snapped at him, “and even if it was, what’s it to you?”

  He smirked at her. “You wrecked my relationship with Jana. Turnabout’s fair play.”

  “That was different.”

  He snorted. “Because it was me, not you.” He pivoted and started to walk away, but my inner flags had gone up at the name of his former girlfriend.

  “Are you talking about Jana Bock, by any chance?” I asked.

  He stopped and turned again to face me. “Yeah. She’s my girlfriend. She’s got a gig training hunting dogs,” he said, eyeing me a little suspiciously. “Is that how you know her?”

  “Yes. We were both at the Pets! Pets! Pets! Expo yesterday. And Kelsey said you were there, too. The manager also mentioned that a Doberman ate a presenter’s dog-food samples. Was that Fang?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not like a dog’s gonna worry about his damn thighs getting fat and eat just by overeating.” He walked away.

  “You’re such a turd,” Kelsey called after him. “Magoo.” She pointed at Malcolm. “Go poop on Malcolm.”

  Malcolm held his middle finger aloft without breaking stride. Magoo, meanwhile, stayed put on Kelsey’s shoulder. Fang, meanwhile, was barking at Magoo, who started barking back.

  “Stop barking!” she shouted, stamping her foot.

  “Stop barking!” Magoo echoed.

  Kelsey watched Malcolm until he was out of sight. Then she rolled her eyes and looked at me. “My life sucks. Teach me how to get Fang to quit barking. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars just to give me the basics for an hour...then to go next door. Forget about Toofroo and Fang not getting along. I just need you to tell Shirley that all I’m asking is for her to quit tossing sunflower seeds in my yard to lure the squirrels over here. Swear to God, that’s all I want from you.”

  I peered at her pretty features, doubting very much that she wanted just an hour of my time. “It would be more effective if you talked to her yourself. You need to establish communications with her.”

  She shook her head. “That won’t work. I get the heebie-jeebies at the squirrels, and she gets offended.”

  “Speaking of being offended, I’ve convinced Tracy not to continue with a lawsuit in exchange for a check for four-hundred eighty-four dollars, which will cover the charges for the vet at the show and a consultation with Bailey’s regular vet, and only a hundred dollars for her time and aggravation.” I started to reach for the vet bills. “She gave me the—”

  “No deal. But thanks for the effort.”

  “But at the time, you said you’d cover her vet expenses plus two hours of therapy from me. That would have cost five-sixty-four.”

  “After what she said about me on the radio, I’m not giving that woman a dime. I’ll take my chances in court.”

  I looked at Fang and sighed. He was a pretty dog, obviously well-cared for, despite his owner wielding him like a weapon to get back at a former girlfriend. Kelsey, meanwhile, seemed to have problems with everybody she came into contact with.

  I found myself reminiscing about my first meeting with Baxter McClellan, in June, less than three months ago. After introducing himself to me, he’d said, “Would you be willing to speak at a pet show in Denver that I’m organizing? I can guarantee you’ll get new clients.”

  So far, my lone new client was someone who didn’t even own a dog. Furthermore, if anyone were to ask me out of the blue to speculate on what person I would never want to meet, my answer would have been: “One of my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends.”

  “I’ll take my chances in court,” Magoo repeated.

  “You’ll get birdseed,” I muttered.

  Chapter 7

  Dogs who bark in deserted yards are often bored and trying to alert their absentee owners that they’re out there and want company. I gave Kelsey a ball to fill with kibble where Fang could get the kibble out one piece at a time by batting the ball around with his paws. I also ran Kelsey and Fang through the basics of getting Fang to stop barking—training techniques to enable Fang to identify the behavior that led to his getting a reward, in this case, not barking.

  Kelsey proved to be a surprisingly good student; I’d long since verified my expectations that Fang would be a quick study. After forty-five minutes, Kelsey and I agreed that Fang had made remarkable progress.

  As promised, I then went next door, stood just outside the wide-open doorway, and rang the bell. Like Kelsey, I, too, felt a little squeamish as a squirrel scampered past me and into the house. Her flooring was a well-worn oak parquet, augmented with a pair of raggedy throw rugs. All of the furniture looked like it had seen better days in the previous millennium.

  An elderly looking Dachshund ambled toward me, his tummy wiggling with every step. I bent down and scratched his neck, just as a handsome man with white hair and a kindly smile followed Toofroo to the door.

  “Hi. My name’s Allida Babcock.” I stood up straight, ignoring how the Dachshund had rolled onto his back for a tummy rub. “Is Shirley home?”

  “She’s in the potting shed out back. She’ll be here in a moment. If the doorbell rings out there, like it’s supposed to.”

  “Do you live here?”

  “No, thank goodness.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Frank Zeller.” As we shook hands, he added, “Shirley’s my client. I’m a volunteer fix-it man. That’s Toofroo.” He crouched down to give the dog his much-anticipated tummy rub. “This sure is a mellow little feller. I’ve never seen a dog let squirrels into his house until I came here for the first time.”

  “Neither have I, and I work with dogs for a living. This is also the first house I’ve ever been to where squirrels are given free run.”

  “That makes two of us.” He gave me a big smile. “You’ve chosen a great profession, Allie. I love dogs. I have a yellow lab myself. His name’s Luna. Sweetest dog you’re ever going to meet. And Toofroo, here, is a cute little guy.” He lost his smile. “The squirrels are everywhere,” he said under his breath. “There’s one scampering around on her kitchen counter right now. One leapt from the cabinet to my head the other day. Wacked me in the face with his tail as he was jumping down to the table. Talk about creepy!”

  I laughed, but stopped when we heard the back door slide open. A spry-looking seventyish woman marched toward me. She was wearing mom jeans, gardening gloves, a Wildlife-Federation T-shirt, and had a mop of gray curls poking from the edges of her badly frayed kerchief.

  “Who’s this, Frank?” she asked as she stepped beside him.

  “I’m Allida Babcock. I’m a dog therapist and was just admiring your Dachshund. He’s amazingly complacent with the squirrels sharing his turf.”

  “Of course he is. I got him when he was only six-weeks old. He grew up with squirrels in the house. Just goes to show you that the animal kingdom can embrace their natural adversaries. It’s us people who can’t seem to accept different lifestyles.”
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  Frank jumped back as a squirrel ran over his foot.

  Ignoring Shirley’s chuckling at him, Frank said, “I replaced the phone wire for you. I don’t know how long it’ll be until the squirrels eat right through it again.”

  She bent down and extended her palm toward a squirrel that was chattering away at us. The animal ran up her arm and onto her shoulder. “The little rascals,” she said affectionately. She peered at me and pursed her lips, as if not especially impressed at my appearance. I was dressed more formally than she was; I tended to wear knit tops and khakis with lots of pockets to stash my dog treats and whatnot. “You’re working for the witch next door, aren’t you,” she said.

  “Not exactly. I met her for the first time yesterday at a pet expo in Denver. She hired me for some dog-training advice and asked to meet you. She’s of the opinion that you’ve been tossing sunflower seeds on her lawn, and that’s been encouraging the squirrels to inhabit her back yard.”

  “That’s nonsense. I’ve done no such thing.”

  “There are a lot of seeds and husks in her lawn.”

  “They’re probably from Magoo’s cage. She probably dumped them there herself. I don’t have any sunflower seeds, or any other kind of bird seed.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed her; something about her attitude made me suspect she might not be telling the whole truth. “Okay. I’ll tell her you said that. But she’d like to declare a truce. She’s afraid you’ll harm her parrot if he happens to fly into your yard. I’m here as an ambassador of goodwill.”

  Shirley let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I’d say you’re roughly two years too late. If she were sincere about that, she’s got a strange way of showing it. Lately she’s been worse than ever.”

  “Maybe she’s just been acting hostile lately because of other problems in her life that have nothing to do with squirrels.”

  Shirley scoffed. “Such as what?”