PW02 - Bidding on Death (9 page)

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “How long has that been going on?”

“Couple hours now. I keep thinking he’ll stop. I couldn’t believe you were sleeping through it.”

“What should we do?”

“How about taking him out to the barn? Use one of those cat crates.”

“Jack, it’s cold out there, and he’s a short-haired dog.”

“Fine,” Jack snapped. He heaved out of bed and went to the closet, hauling a sleeping bag from the top shelf. “Then I’ll go to the barn.”

I was too tired to get into a big thing. “Jack, I’m sure he’ll get over it soon and settle down.”

“But not here,” Jack directed. “Find an owner for him.”

And he stomped off down the stairs.

I flopped back on the bed. After a moment, I went to the bathroom and found the cotton balls and fashioned myself some ear plugs. I could still hear Paco, but it was fainter.
  Pity and a desire to strangle the little beast warred uneasily in my head.

Eventually, I slipped back to sleep. I dreamed I was back that the Beaumont auction. The tent was there, the office trailer, the BBQ Hut, and all the chairs and tables and boxes. But no people. The only sign of life was a little dog, racing frantically around the deserted scene, sniffing and whining piteously.

Having gone to bed ridiculously early, I woke up ridiculously early too. It was just after dawn, and beautifully still. I stretched luxuriously. The bed was all mine, the room was all mine…

Wait a minute. I sat up. No Jack. No Polly stretched out on the floor. I remembered that eerie dream and shivered. To break the silence, I spoke aloud, repeating the old Western cliché, “It’
s quiet out there. Yeah, TOO
quiet.”

What had happened to Paco? Had Jack strangled him? Did Polly get past the baby gates and dismember him? Did Jack get fed up and dump him outside, where he was running loose who knows where?

I slipped into my robe and slippers and headed downstairs.

In the kitchen I found Polly. She was asleep curled up against the baby gate into the laundry room. She raised her head as I came in, and then put her chin back on her paws. I looked over her. On the other side of the baby gate, Paco was curled into a ball, pressed up against Polly with the gate between them.

Awww. I love my dog.

Paco woke up then, jumped up and started shrilling. I sighed and went to the sink to start the coffee and soak some kibble. He’d at least be quiet while he ate.

Jack came in then, looking rumpled and heavy-eyed – adorable, actually. That set off Paco, and Jack winced. I gave him a hug and a sympathetic kiss. “Hon,” he said, trying to be patient,
“
I’m not a dog hater, but that high-pitched business is getting on my last nerve.”

“It is grating, isn’t it?” I agreed. “But maybe he’ll stop whining so much when he adjusts to being here. When I came down just now, Polly was over by the gate and he was being quiet.”

“I don’t want him to adjust to being here!” Jack objected. “I want him to not be here!”

“I’d turn him over to Rose’s next of kin or executor in a heartbeat, if I only knew who that was. But if I bother Luther about it, he’ll think I’m meddling again.”

“I’ll talk to Luther about it,” Jack vowed. “I’ll tell him I only want to know to get the dog where he belongs. I’ll explain that my sanity is at stake.”

I made us both an enormous breakfast to compensate for the trials of the previous night and fortify us for the trials of the day.
Jack left to check on his precious wine and then track down Luther, and I tried a bold experiment.

I let Paco out of the laundry room.

Tough Stuff had been sitting on the floor, tail regally coiled around his feet, staring at Paco coldly. Paco celebrated his freedom by dashing up to TS, barking hysterically. I know Tough Stuff’s capabilities; he was perfectly able to levitate out of Paco’s reach without breaking a sweat. Instead he stood his ground and, as soon as Paco got within reach, smote him a mighty blow to the muzzle.

Paco yelped in astonishment. Seems no one had briefed him about cat claws. Then he turned tail and dived back into the laundry room, with Tough Stuff right behind him.

It was time to break this up. I followed them into the laundry room to find Paco at bay between the washer and dryer, and Tough Stuff guarding the pass. I picked up TS and dumped him out the back door, then went back and squatted in the laundry room to assess the situation. There was a scratch on Paco’s muzzle, and a few drops of blood. He started whining again.

Polly started whining in sympathy, but then lifted her head and raced to the back door. The infallible dog alarm. Now I heard it too, a vehicle engine, coming to a halt in the back yard. I looked out the window. It was Julia.

I flung open the door and called dramatically, “Save me!”

Julia was out of the Expedition and heading up the walk. She knew exactly what I was talking about. “Paco?”

“Paco. He whined most of the night. Jack took a sleeping bag out to the barn.”

We were in the kitchen now, and Julia was helping herself to the coffee pot. “Where is he?”

I pointed to the laundry room. She went to the door and looked in. “There’s blood on his face.”

“Tough Stuff punched him in the nose.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I guess that sounded unsympathetic,” she admitted. “But the truth is he just doesn’t know better. He’s spoiled and doesn’t know how to behave. About time he learned.” She fished in her enormous purse and pulled out a videotape and handed it to me. “Here. This will help.”

I looked at it. “Sirius Puppy Training? Paco’s not a puppy.”

“No, but it will be a good guide anyway. This is the new training. Off-leash, with treat lures rather than leash corrections. You really have to be careful with leash corrections with a dog that small. And frankly, leash-popping is considered pretty old school these days for all size dogs.”

I looked at the videotape curiously. “I’ll watch it,” I promised. “But I don’t want to train this dog, I want someone to take him!”

“Sure,” Julia agreed. “I don’t blame you. But as long as you have him, you might as well try to make him a little easier to live with.”
  She gulped the rest of her coffee and stood up, making departure motions. “Hey, how are your auctions doing? I’ll be seeing Amy later, it’s our day to man the desk at the church thrift, and I know she’ll ask.”

“They seem quite promising,” I told her. “I’ve got over a hundred dollars in bids already and this is all stuff I thought was worthless. Say, would you ask Amy if I could borrow her camera again? I got one just like it on eBuy, but it’s not here yet and I’m anxious to do some more listings.”

“Sure, I’ll pass it on.”

After Julia left, I went back to the office. I still had that document to finish proofing. When I finally completed it and e-mailed it on its way, I was at loose ends. A whine from the kitchen reminded me of Paco, so I gave him another small meal (by now I was making the meals larger and further apart) and then went to the living room with the videotape.

Well, it was adorable! The video takes place in a puppy training class, with a group of puppies with their owners being taught obedience commands for the first time. Polly came into the living room and joined the viewing, watching the television with intent interest. It occurred to me that this was the first time I’d had a movie on where she understood some of the dialog. There were dogs there, and that was interesting and they were being told to sit and stay, she understood that. And she certainly understood “Good girl!” It was definitely a feel-good movie.

Me, I was skeptical. It can’t be that easy! I remembered teaching Polly to sit. I’d say “sit”, while pushing down on her butt and up on her leash. Over and over and over again. Eventually she got it. But according to this, using the food lure teaches the pup in a few iterations! I’d believe it when I saw it.

So let’s put this to the test. I filled a jeans pocket with bits of freeze-dried liver, put Paco on his leash and harness and brought him into the living room.
No, this wasn’t going to work. Polly was dancing around beside me, intent on the liver. Tough Stuff was sitting on the back of the sofa looking baleful. Changing course, I took Paco into the office, and shut the door with the rest of the menagerie on the other side.

I looked down at Paco
and unsnapped his leash
. He was looking bewildered, but hadn’t been actively yapping. Perhaps the confrontation with Tough Stuff had been a valuable object lesson. “Paco,” I said. He looked up
at me. Well, at least he knew his
name. “Paco, sit.” He stared at me. Nope, he’d had no training at all.

I sat down on the floor and fished some liver out of my pocket. Paco was right there. I was a bit concerned, I’ll admit, remembering what Rose had said about him biting ‘sometimes’. I held out a piece of liver and let him take it. So far so good. He liked it a lot. I held out another piece and he moved to snap at my fingers. I gave him a nose tap, to startle, not to hurt, and said, “Off.”

He pulled his head back and looked affronted. One more tap, and he seemed to get it. Then he knew, take the treat when it was offered, and don’t take any fingers with it.

Encouraged, I held out the treat. Like the videotape promised, his nose was right there. I moved my hand back over his head. He reared up on his hind legs. Whoops, that meant my hand was too high. I tried again, moving my hand just above his head. And Paco sat! Just like that, his head followed the treat and his butt moved to the floor.

I gave him the piece of liver and got another one. This time, when I moved the liver over his head, I said, “Sit.” He sat. He got liver. Several more times, I moved the liver, I said “sit” and Paco sat.

Now came the real test. I had a piece of liver in my closed hand. I looked at Paco, he looked at me. I said, “Sit,” and I didn’t move the liver over his head. Paco looked at me, a long considering look. And then, slowly, he lowered his butt to the floor. Yes! I gave him the liver. Good Paco!

Remember that scene in The Miracle Worker?  Where young Helen Keller suddenly realizes that the hand gestures that Annie Sullivan was making weren’t just random, that it meant ‘water’? This was like that. It was an Aha Moment, I could see it. It was dawning on Paco, maybe for the first time in his life, that this two-legs wasn’t just making random noises, she was actually trying to communicate with him.

Moving on. I told Paco to sit and he sat. I held a piece of liver in front of his nose, and then moved it down to the floor, a little ways in front of him. He subsided onto the floor in a beautiful down. This was so cool! I did it several more times, adding the “down” comman
d. And then without the liver lure
, and Paco went down. By George, I think he’s got it!

Polly had been whining softly outside the office door, but now she set off the dog alarm, and scrambled to the back of the house. I heard the kitchen door open. “Jack?” I called out. “Come look at this!”

After a moment, Jack came in. “What is it, hon?” He saw my little pupil and scowled.

“Watch this!” I told him. “Paco, sit!”

Paco sat.

“Paco, down.”

Paco went down.

“Huh,” said Jack.

“He’s trainable!” I told Jack excitedly. “I think he’s really smart!”

“So he can sit,” Jack said. “Does that mean he won’t whine all night?”

“Maybe not right away,” I had to admit. “But he’s learning how to learn. He doesn’t have to be an annoying little pest.”

“I’m sure Rose’s brother will be glad to hear that.” Jack leaned against the door frame looking smug.

“Jack! You’ve found a next of kin?” I jumped up and gave him a big hug. He deserved it.

“I sure have,” he told me. “Tracked down Luther finally, and he tells me that the brother is nex
t of kin and also executor. The brother is
Myron Blankenship
, and he’ll be here tomorrow. Coming in from Texas.”

“G
reat! So we have a possible Forever Home
for Paco.
And then there’s the ex-husband?
”

“I wouldn’t count on the ex,” Jack warned. “Luther says Rose was married for five years and then divorced for twenty, so it’s not like this little guy was ‘their’ dog. The ex has probably never met him. And unless he’s a candidate for sainthood, I don’t see him being willing to take the annoying little dog of the woman he divorced two decades ago.”

“The brother, then,” I said. I looked down at Paco. “I hope he’ll take him.”

“He’s got no choice,” Jack said sternly. “It’s his responsibility, not yours.
If he doesn’t want to keep the dog, it’s up to him to find it a home.
”

I agreed, but privately hoped the brother would at least want Paco or know someone who did.

SIX

That night, I put Paco into his laundry room fastness again when bedtime came. He’d been following me around all evening, to Jack’s disapproval. “That dog had better not be bonding with you,” he warned me.

“That’s good, I think,” I suggested. “It could mean he’d bond with whoever feeds him, which would make his transition to a new home easier.”