Me & Thee & She

{Adult language}

Well that lasted exactly two minutes. One mile.

My beautiful dream becoming reality – now apparently over. This was going to be our chance to re-connect, away from our busy work lives, away from our community commitments, away from our household responsibilities. A romantic getaway, just the two of us in a cozy cabin, looking forward to ten days of all the fun places and scenic splendors of central Wisconsin. But then, oh so close to the freeway and freedom, it all started turning bad.

On the side street that leads across the main road and right into the on-ramp, and while I was checking the map for our exit to the next freeway, the car came to a screeching, I mean screeching, halt. My hands plastered to the dash, my midriff straining against the seatbelt, “Danny, what the heck!!!”

“The dog!”

“What dog? Oh wait, yeah I see it, what about it?”

“Well we can’t just leave it there.”

“Ummm, why not?”

“Well he could wander onto this street, that road, or oh God, the freeway . . .”

“So, while he’s safe on the curb, we could just drive away real fast and never have to know.”

“Calli!”

“What?”

“You can’t really mean what you said.” And with that he was out of the car and heading for the mongrel. I called out the window, begged him not to approach that strange animal, he could be bitten, clawed, pushed to the ground. OK, that didn’t happen, and instead the greatest danger was being lashed with a wildly wagging tail. There was also a friendly woof.

And even as I yelled, Danny, no! in short order he and the creature were in the back seat, with him holding the collar to read the tag. “She’s actually a girl and awwww her name is Sweetie. Good, there’s a phone number.”

He called, and this is what we heard on the speaker.

“Yeah?”

“Ahhhhh, I think I found your dog, named Sweetie, looks like a golden retriever.”

“So?”

“What? . . .” He looked over at me, hesitation in his eyes. “I mean, if you want to give me your address I can bring her back.”

“Don’t bother.”

“What??”

“I’d just shove her out again.”

“What????”

“Listen, my piece of crap husband has put her ahead of me for all three years of her life. Now, as much as he claimed to love her he’s just left and didn’t take her with. What he did take with was his young blond secretary. And get this, he had the nerve to tell me she said,” and her voice goes soprano, ‘I don’t like dogs, they’re dirty, leave her with fatso.’” Voice back to bellow mode. “Fatso! Actually told me that. No respect. Then he says he knows I would take care of her.” In short order this woman had graduated from monosyllables, to multisyllables, to a full sentence, to full on waterfall mouth. And she wasn’t done.

“So, take care of the mutt that stole all his love and affection from me? Yeah, I don’t think so. It’s bad enough that he found plenty of reasons to away from home, leaving me to do stuff for the damn thing. Ha! like I’d give a rat’s ass if she had fresh water or her evening treats. He should have been here to do that himself. And whenever he did finally get home he’d take her for long walks, probably going by the bimbo instead of spending time with me. I showed him, ate all the pastries and candy, none for him! Ha! He had his Sweetie and I had the sweets.” Danny and I exchanged knowing looks.

Still not done. “Anyway, I told him he knows nothing of the kind. Care for her, that’s a big No. I would just throw her out. He said he knows me and that I wouldn’t do that. Again with the knows me. Wrong! Because guess what? ‘Me’ did exactly that. And she can just use her little doggie instincts to track him down, make him feel guilty. Then let him choose between the two bitches!” Well she was clearly on a landline because we both had started a little as the phone banged down.

***

And the dream recedes further. Because while we are finally on our way, barreling down the freeway – we’re now a trio. Sweetie sleeps for a while then wakes up, sits up, puts her muzzle on Danny’s shoulder and receives some head pats. She looks over at me, apparently doesn’t like what she sees and settles back onto the seat. I try to push away thoughts of kinship with the secretary.

Danny is strangely silent. I’m guessing he’s concentrating on getting onto the turnoff for the next freeway that will take us straight north. And then we’re on that route and still the silence persists. When he finally does speak it’s to say, “There’s a Culver’s at the next exit. Let’s get coffee and some water for Sweetie.” Of course.

It’s mid-morning, between breakfast and lunch crowds, so there are plenty of booths available. Danny steers us toward one that’s away from other folks. Again he’s wordless until we’re served our coffees and a to-go cup of water.

I’m not sure what’s going on, so have stayed quiet myself. But now I say, “Are you worried about what to do with the dog?”

There’s a funny look in his eyes. “What I’m worried about, Calli, is how you could even think of just driving past the dog without even trying to find its owner.”

“Well the owner didn’t turn out to be such a find.”

“We didn’t know that at the time, did we! And when I was helping the dog you argued against it every step of the way.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well I could almost believe that because I’ve always known you as such a caring and compassionate person. That’s why it’s so hard to understand what I witnessed today. Is there something else that can explain it?”

How much do I want to say about this? Let’s try for minimal. “When I was twelve years old I was bitten in the face by a dog that looked a little like this one.”

“Oh my gosh, was it a bad bite?”

“Very bad. I had to have surgery which led to an infection, which led to strong antibiotics and all the 'joys' they bring, and finally plastic surgery.”

“Oh baby, there’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Why haven’t you ever told me?”

“Just never came up. And no reason to re-live the past now.”

“But, how on earth did it happen.” Crap.

“I, uh, barely remember.”

“Calli?”

“OK . . . I was . . . a bit of a wild child. Every Friday after school our group would meet in the park and fool around. The boys were in charge of beer, the girls cigarettes, gum and mouthwash. Mr. Andy who owned the little neighborhood grocery store would sell us anything we wanted. He was usually high on weed and probably regarded us as prime prospects for his backroom stash. And eventually he was right.”

The worst of the story is over, so I continue. “One time one of the guys brought his dog. It seemed friendly. But at one point I turned my head aside to blow out smoke not knowing the dog’s face was right next to mine. He snarled and bit, hard. The whole story eventually came out and I was grounded for a very long time. You can believe I changed my ways pretty quick. But I also developed a deep fear of dogs and especially golden ones.”

“Well . . . ahh . . . umm . . . good for you, lesson learned.” Then, “And I bet Sweetie could help you get over that fear. She really is a sweetie.” No, no, no.

“Wait, are you thinking we’ll take her with us to the cabin?”

“It’s fine. We can take her to the shelter when we get back.” Someone tell me how this is going to be our romantic getaway with a scary four-legged interloper.

It’s raining buckets when we reach the town just outside our resort and stop at a grocery store. Danny unbuckles his seat belt and I say no, not staying alone with the dog, I make a dash through the rain and return with water, wine, food . . . and dog food . . and dog dishes . . . and a leash. Sweetie gives a gentle woof when her nose recognizes the bag of kibble. Sigh.

Just as I hoped, the cabin is cozy as can be. It’s dark out now and we’re all unpacked and sitting in the golden glow of lantern sconces and a hearty fire. Steaks are marinating as we relax with a glass of wine and Sweetie, her tummy now full, stretches out on the braid rug in front of the fireplace. Nice doggie, go away.

While we’re having our second glass the rain finally stops, so Danny heads outside to the grill. Soon the aromas of garlic-seasoned steak and baking potatoes float inside. Sweetie goes out the open door. Maybe she’ll run away.

But she just wanders over to him, takes appreciative sniffs at the grill, then settles on the covered section of the tiled patio. I'm busy setting the table, topping off our wine glasses, making a salad and dressing, when I feel something against my leg. I jump and brush at my thigh and in a flash think oh no it’s the dog and she’s going to react. And she does, with melting eyes and a wagging tail. She goes onto “her” rug, my heartbeat returns to normal, and I take the salad to the table, meeting Danny there with laden platters.

We’ve awoken to a bright sunny day, after sleeping soundly on an incredibly comfortable bed - all three of us. I know Sweetie does seem to live her name, but I’m pretty sure even in my deepest slumber I was determined to move as little as possible. Maybe we could find a shelter here.

After a satisfying breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast and coffee for us – bacon, dogfood and water for Sweetie – we’re off to the resort’s trail. Danny is a protective barrier between the dog and me as we take in the tall rock formations, little waterfalls, carpets of wild flowers, greenery everywhere, from thick groundcover to soaring pines. The retractable leash lets somebody’s busy nose read every scent along the way.

Hours fly by. Now back at the cabin, happy and tired, we sink into the cushioned patio chairs. Sweetie nudges my arm. I give her a quick pat, quickly withdraw my hand, and ask Danny to call her to him. We chill till lunchtime.

Ham and provolone sandwiches, chips and iced tea for us – ham and water for Sweetie. Now I’m really feeling tired and tell Danny I’m going to lie down for a while. I wake up three hours later with, damn, a scratchy throat. And I think a bit of fever. Double damn.

Could I really have gotten sick this fast from yesterday’s rain-drenched grocery trip? But as I think about it I realize I was already feeling a little run down with all the prep for this trip, packing, shutting down services, finishing up stuff for work, so maybe the rain was just the final straw. Danny was just as busy but he is a hardy one.

And a dear one, fixing us soup and crackers for dinner. I have soup, no crackers, take some aspirin, change into pjs, and back to bed. The dog will keep Danny company, as she’s always pretty much wherever he is. So tired.

As I wake up this morning, I can feel Danny next to me, facing me, close, and my first thought is oh no I shouldn’t be breathing right at him, making him sick too. I open my eyes to protest, but instead of Danny I’m looking into the soulful eyes of Sweetie. And now I’m realizing I hear Danny in the kitchen. Oh my gosh, my little nursemaid. Eventually I reach out a tentative hand and lightly scratch her chin, and her tail thumps the bed. I hear an mm-hmm and look up to see a smiling Danny in the doorway.

He’s holding a glass of water and cup of tea and comes over to set both on the nightstand, telling me the resort has a doctor on call and he’ll be here shortly. He helps me into my robe, settles me back into bed against a pile of pillows. The water and tea help my throat a little. I decline food for now, so Danny goes back into the kitchen to make breakfast for himself. Sweetie stays.

The doc has come and gone, after giving me a shot, pills, and of course instructions to drink lots of water. Don’t know what was in that shot, but hooray, feeling a bit better. Hope it doesn’t wear off, but maybe the pills can keep up the good work. I still want to sleep a lot, and Sweetie is right with me more often than not. I’ve graduated to, in succession, scratching her ears, rubbing her head, stroking her silky coat.

***

It’s now the fifth day of our trip and the doc’s magic has me pretty much back to normal, lots of days still to enjoy here. While Danny starts dinner I take Sweetie for her evening walk. She bounces along just thrilled with everything she encounters. I cannot believe how much this precious girl has now captured my heart.

She takes care of business, and with a couple joyful woofs walks on, full of wonder and curiosity. The woodsy perfume becomes ever more intoxicating the deeper we go into the woods. But suddenly Sweetie’s entire demeanor changes, stops in her tracks and looks at me, eyes wide, serious. On no, this is it! Far away and out of sight her true nature is going to come out and attack me!

But no, instead she’s pulling me hard, back the other way. When we’re almost to the large clearing around our cabin I hear crashing behind me, and even though now at a full run I glance over my shoulder and almost stumble. Bear!

I can hear it getting closer and I’m screaming "Danny! Danny! Danny!" He bursts out the door and at that moment Sweetie jerks her head out of the collar, and takes off back into the woods. My momentum propels me into the clearing but I get to a stop and turn around to run after her, but Danny catches me and all but carries me into the cabin, door shut and bolted.

I can’t stop crying. Danny is doing everything he can to hold it together. “Maybe she’ll be all right,” he whispers. “Against a bear! Oh God, it’s all my fault, I should never have walked her that far.” Danny hurries into the kitchen, returning with a small snifter of brandy. “At this point,” he says, “there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. We left home without a dog, we may well return without a dog. Meanwhile, however great the odds, we can only hope for the best.”

We remain sitting quietly by the fireplace, lost in our own thoughts. The brandy has calmed me down a bit, but it wouldn’t take much to bring on another flood of tears.

Time passes. And then . . . scratching? Danny does a Jesse Owens to the door, flings it open, and in strolls Sweetie, a happy woof, tail as enthusiastic as ever but maybe with a bit of swagger? I am on the floor, my arms around her neck, tears now of pure joy.

Danny says, “If you could disentangle yourself for a nanosecond I’d like to see if she’s hurt at all." He checks her, pink nose to still wagging tail. “Amazing, not a mark on her. And, hey, we have quite a turnabout here. Just days ago you wanted to be protected from her. Now you know she will always protect you.”

I look at her, up at him, and even I’m surprised at what comes out of my mouth. “She chased off a fuckin’ bear!”

“Calli!” I don’t know if his face is registering real or mock shock but it transforms into a grin. “She did chase off a fuckin’ bear,” and with that he hugs her too.

“I’m going to blame that on you, giving me brandy when I’m still on a prescription. But you know what, add in our Sweetie back home all safe, I almost I feel like I’m ready to party." Danny grinned again, but this one’s a little different.

***

Now we’re almost home, and no question it’s going to be a home for three. I’m googling on my phone, and say to Danny, “I think you’re right about Sweetie being a golden retriever. The AKC describes the breed as eager to please, joyous and playful, with puppyish behavior even as adults and, oh I love this, a tail that shows ‘merry action.’” “That's her,” he says, “our golden treasure.”

We’re on that same side street where our doggie venture began and Danny says she probably lived near here. We look at each other, then toward the houses, and both give a ppppfffftttt! Sweetie looks out the window too, then joins in with a woof.

That one didn’t sound so friendly.

-- end -