NEW DOG IN TOWN

Diane yawned and stretched luxuriously, welcoming Saturday’s early summer breeze carrying birdsong.  After a brief shower, during which she sang Oh What a Beautiful Morning, while duly recognizing how corny she was being, she toweled dry and turned to select her outfit for a lazy stay-at-home day.

She opened the closet door, switched on the light and stared in disbelief as a knee-high dog ran into the bedroom, frisking in apparent abandon.  Her first thought was that a portion of her walk-in closet wall had been breeched, but investigation proved that not to be the case.  She lived in a condo complex which opened off the second floor.

Her next thought was that someone had invaded her condo while she was out, inadvertently forgetting their dog. What else? A creepy notion, surely.  Ever since the town’s serial rapist had attacked her last year she had been doubly careful about everything, she thought. She checked the windows which were all on the second floor and assured herself that her single double-locked entrance was still secure. Although it was unlikely a serial rapist would strike the same place twice, there was always the fear.

She sat down to finish waking up. Surely she was not processing correctly this morning?

It was then that the light caught the reflection of a thin collar around the dog’s neck, bearing an engraved nameplate with the word Messenger on it.  Diane burst out laughing.  Who could be playing such a complicated joke on her?  She shook her blonde head in surprised disbelief and patted the smiling—yes, he seemed to be smiling—dog’s own light brown head.

Of course she had no dog food, for she had no dog, but poured milk into a cereal bowl and watched as Messenger lapped it up.  Studying the canine, she wasn’t sure what breed he was.  His ears were long, floppy and soft like a cocker spaniel’s, but his coat was short and had a tan sheen.  And oh, his eyes were as endearing as a hungry child’s. He wasn’t a mess, but Mess would have to be his name for now, she decided.

He apparently had very short nails since he had moved silently into the kitchen with her, but now she heard hungry lapping noises. Her energy suddenly returned with a spurt of memory.  Drink equals pee!  Returning to the closet, she hastily put on a summer frock and grabbed a bathrobe belt for a leash.

“Let’s go, boy!”

The two of them hastened down the outside steps and paused by a bit of lawn.  She had no plastic bag so was thankful one wasn’t needed at the moment.  However—if Mess was going to be even an overnight visitor she realized a trip to the grocers was in order, and was pleased to note the dog was a calm front seat passenger as well, watching the scenery out the side window with apparent interest.

It had been decades since Diane had owned a pet, and it was a cat at that.  She returned to the car after purchasing the necessities, and immediately clipped on Mess’s new leash.  A walk would be indicated, as soon as they returned home.

After Diane put away the groceries she and Mess set out for the leisurely walk she anticipated.  They walked past yards with blooming flowers, bird baths and the pleasant accoutrements of a quiet early summer morning, Mess at her side as though he had just finished training school.

They had gone several blocks when he began pulling, unexpectedly determined.  Diane gripped the leash tighter, but Mess appeared to have discovered a scent he lusted after.  The leash was hurting

Diane’s hand, and he ignored her words.  Perhaps he hadn’t just graduated from training after all.  Finally she gave up, and let him run, and soon he was out of sight.  Diane turned slowly and headed home, surprised at how lonely and abandoned she felt. She realized she had already bonded with him, but apparently the experience was not reciprocated.

It was two nights later that she heard scratching at the door.  Looking out the peep hole she could only make out the dripping wet tail of Messenger since he was so close to the door.  She was torn between wanting to embrace him and fending him off. He had been into mischief, perhaps with a rooster, and bore the cuts,  bloody mouth bloody patches on his coat and tail as a result.  He still wore his leash, and after re-locking the door Diane led him into the bathroom, where he was shampooed  twice, and his bloody teeth soaped off.

He was not a happy camper, nor was she at first, but gradually warmed to the fact that he had found his way back home, even in a new neighborhood,  which she recognized as a rare accomplishment. It was late by the time she had towel dried the dog, and had taken a long shower herself.  Yuk—she hated to imagine the fight Mess had been in.  She decided not to take him to the veterinarian for fear Mess might be mis-perceived as a dangerously aggressive dog, and labeled as such.   Maybe he had tried to play with the wrong animal.  Diane smiled into his trusting eyes and stroked his soft ears before heading to bed.

She didn’t have to invite the enthusiastic pup up onto the bed to snuggle.  Perhaps he was a harbinger of good times ahead.  There were no more reports of the serial rapist, either.

 

THE END

This CAN’T BE THE REAL END.  HOW CAN A MYSTERY HAVE NO END?

Feel free to finish it for me….