Baloney

Roger and Heddy cringe, walking low to the ground as they sneak up the driveway to their car.

They can hear Viper Axton's dogs scurry across the dirt, banging against the wooden fence that shields them from their yard.

The dogs bark incessantly, intent on getting at Roger and Heddy.

“Well, trying to keep quiet didn’t work,” Heddy comments.

“Dogs have a great sense of smell.”

“When are we going to move?” Heddy whines. “Axton’s dogs bark if someone walks by. They bark when we take out the trash. They bark if the wind blows. Speaking of which, I can’t wait until the summer when the sweet smell of dog crap fills the air.”

“We just need to be patient and wait things out. A year from now, we’ll have enough money for a condo on the other side of town. In the meantime, we should be thankful that the place we’re renting has thick walls.”

“Have you talked to Axton about the noise?”

“Until I was blue in the face,” Roger replies.

Heddy squints. “I know you, Roger. You’re too nice. We need to file a noise complaint. It’s been two years of bark, bark, bark, and I’m sick of it.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him again.”

“There’s no time like the present.”

“I thought you wanted to see a movie.”

“We’ve still got time, procrastinator,” Heddy replies.

“Fine. You should come along since this is your idea.”

Heddy stiffens. “You know how I feel about fleabags.”

Putting his arm around her, Roger boasts, “I’ll protect you.”

“Aren’t you the same guy I saw get beat up by two sorority sisters in college?”

Roger Wilco smiles shyly, wondering how a skinny, laid-back nerd with glasses could land a raven-haired, ambitious beauty like Heddy Houston. His college friends warned him that Heddy suffered from manic depression, but aside from a few episodes where she’s pulled down the shades in the bedroom and gone mute, Heddy is sunny and glib.

Heddy basks in the excitement of being a travel writer. She supports Roger’s mundane but profitable job as the owner of a paving company but complains that his profession’s lack of status is a social embarrassment.

Heddy shivers as the dogs bark louder, scratching at the protective fence as she and Roger climb the steps to Varney “Viper” Axton’s house.

Unlike the couple’s home, Axton’s house shows signs of disrepair. Several shingles hang cock-eyed, and the house’s white paint is dingy and chipped.

Roger tentatively raps on the door. “Let me do the talking, okay?”

“Remember, he’s just a bag of wind. A bully.”

“Yeah, the kind of guy who used to shove my head in the toilet in high school.”

“You graduated. You’re a man now. Knock louder,” Heddy urges.

Roger continues to knock until a husky voice yells, “GET BENT, REVENUER!”

“Is he from the Ozarks?” Heddy asks.

“No, he’s from the National Football League. He was considered one of the dirtiest players of all time. He got his nickname because he bit opposing players, and his sting, the way he hit someone, ruined careers.”

Thrusting the door open, Viper’s intimidating form fills the archway.

The gigantic Black man tips the scales at a stocky three hundred fifty steroid-fed pounds.

Breathing heavily, Viper gruffly thunders, “What do ya want? You interrupted my me time.”

The dogs yap frantically.

“That!” Heddy snaps, pointing toward them. “Can’t you keep your mongrels quiet?”

“They’re my livelihood, little lady. They’re guard dogs. I have to raise them to be mean.”

“Well, my stepdaddy raised me to be mean, too. If your dung-spewing doggies can’t keep a lid on it, we’ll call the police!”

Viper’s mono-brow arches in anger.

“OH YEAH? YOU KNOW WHAT I SAY TO THAT?” Viper bellows.

Viper marches off the porch, heading toward the side of the house. They follow him at a safe distance, with Roger muttering, “What’s he up to?”

Viper yanks open the door to the protective fence.

“TEAR ‘EM UP!”

Half a dozen bloodthirsty pit bulls spew out, charging at Roger and Heddy. They stop at the edge of Viper’s property, still barking hungrily.

The couple sprint back to their house.

“I don’t care how long we live next door to that madman,” Heddy says breathlessly. “Promise me we’ll never, ever own a dog.”

                                               ***

“Hell of a story, dude,” Bramwell Baer says, puffing on a Camel cigarette. Everyone calls Roger’s assistant Pooh because of his congenial nature and cuddly physique.

“Lucky you two lovebirds are in shape. Pit bulls love raw meat,” Pooh continues. “Heddy’s right, though. You should get outta there. The Viper was a beast. He led the league in sacks three years straight. He punched a teammate who dared to laugh at him. And pit bulls shouldn’t be messed with, either. How’d Heddy become so afraid of dogs, anyway?”

“Her stepfather had a Doberman Pinscher. He trained it to guard their house. He taught it to believe Heddy and her sister Cissy were burglars. The dog would attack her if it wasn’t chained up. Heddy said she came home late from her first date, and the dog bit her hand when she opened the door. Her stepfather was watching and did nothing but laugh. She would have been mauled, but Cissy grabbed her stepfather’s gun and blew the dog away.”

Pooh blows out a haze of smoke. “Good for her.”

“It was the last time she saw her sister.”

“You mean the old man…?”

“He told Heddy he’d sent Cissy to reform school… But Heddy never heard from her again. No letters, no phone calls. Heddy was sent to live with an aunt and didn’t see her old man anymore either.”

Roger pulls the truck up a long, ruddy driveway.

“Wow. How long is this sucker?” Pooh asks.

“A little over a thousand feet. We’ll be here for a few days. I hired Manolo and his cousin to help out. They should be here in a few minutes.”

Roger stops the truck in front of a McMansion. A gray-haired, fashionable woman steps out of the house, waving at them.

Pooh’s eyes light up, and he spits out his cigarette as Roger backs down from the truck.

“Dude…DUDE!”

“What’s the matter, Pooh?”

A searing pain travels throughout Roger’s body.

He turns to see a German Shepherd attached to the seat of his jeans.

“Can you call off your dog, Mrs. Mauser?”

“That’s not my dog.”

Roger tries to shake himself free.

“I don’t want to have to do this, but…” Roger says, punching the dog on its nose.

The dog yips, backing away.

“First lesson. Don’t greet someone by biting them, especially where they sit,” Roger says to the dog, who seems to drop her head in shame. “If this isn’t your dog, Mrs. Mauser, who’s is it?”

Mrs. Mauser maintains a safe distance, forcing her to shout.

“She’s a stray. She’s been hanging around here lately. We felt sorry for her, so we’ve been leaving food for her.”

Roger steps toward the dog. She flinches before allowing Roger to touch her.

“Maybe you should call animal control.”

“She’s not vicious,” Mrs. Mauser replies.

“My butt begs to differ.”

“She likes baloney.”

“So do I. In fact, that’s what I’ve got for lunch. Toss me my bag, Pooh. And by the way, thanks for the help.”

“I warned you, dude.”

Roger gives the dog half of his bologna sandwich. The dog scarfs it down, her tail swishing back and forth.

“Looks like you’ve made a friend,” Mrs. Mauser says.

“What’s her name?”

“My children call her Dog. Not surprisingly, she doesn’t respond to it.”

“How about Baloney?”

The dog chuffs happily.

“Baloney, it is.”

                                               ***

Roger bonds with Baloney over the next three days, playing fetch, tug of war, and hide-and-seek with her.

“She’s more affectionate toward you than Heddy,” Pooh notes.

“I’d laugh, but it’s true.”

                                               ***

Mrs. Mauser hands Roger a check when the job is finished.

“Baloney lays around the yard sulking when you go home at night. It’s no coincidence she’s here waiting for you every morning. You should take her with you.”

Roger bends down and pets Baloney, ruffling her fur. Baloney licks Roger’s face.

“I’d take her in a heartbeat, but my girlfriend has a phobia about dogs.”

“Look at her, Dude,” Pooh says. “She’s waggin’ her tail at the thought of hangin’ out with you.”

“How about I keep her at your place?”

“No dice, dude. There’s a no-pets-allowed rule in our apartment building. You two are made for each other. Maybe Baloney can turn Heddy into a dog lover.”

                                               ***

Heddy seethes, so angry she can only speak in fragments.

“You know better!…Stupid!… No consideration!…”

Panting, Baloney pads forward, wagging her tail.

Heddy backs away. “Did you forget the promise you made, Roger? You agreed you would never, ever bring a dog in this house!”

Roger kneels next to Baloney, who licks his cheek.

“Look at this face. I swear, she’s smiling at you. Humorist Josh Billings once said, ‘A dog is the only thing on Earth that loves you more than he loves himself.’"

“That’s one reason why they’re considered dumb animals,” Heddy replies, shaking as she looks at Baloney.

“Baloney’s peaceful, friendly, and faithful. Besides, dogs can be helpful. There was a Retriever in the 1930s named Swansea Jack who lived near the docks. He saved a twelve-year-old boy. A few weeks later, Jack saved another swimmer. Over a six-year period, Swansea Jack was credited with saving twenty-seven people.”

“Great. When we get a pool, Rin Tin Can be your lifeguard, not mine. I don’t care if this tail-wagging bag of fur placed first in the Westminster Dog Show; I don’t want her here. I’m going on an assignment to Vegas tomorrow. While I’m away, you need to think about whether you want a dog or a human being as your girlfriend.”

                                               ***

Heddy waits on the porch for an Uber to take her to the airport. Taking Baloney for a walk, Roger slips by her.

“Good morning, babe.”

“Three days, Roger. No Baloney.”

Groaning, Roger takes Baloney for a walk.

Viper’s dogs bark madly as they pass his house. Baloney sits down in the street, barking back.

“Trust me, Baloney. The dogs on the other side of the fence don’t want to be friends.”

The animated dialogue between Baloney and Viper’s dogs intensifies.

Roger pulls at Baloney’s leash. “We’d better move on before the neighbors get angry.”

Roger looks back at Heddy, who has her arms crossed and is tapping her shoe against the wooden porch at warp speed.

She reaches for her phone. “I’ll fix him. Him and our knuckle-dragging neighbor.”

Heddy calls the police. “…Yes, I’d like to report there’s a group of dogs making an excessive amount of noise at fifty-six Pelham Park Avenue… What? Would I like to fill out a report? No! I’m a busy woman. I’m on my way to Las Vegas on business… I’m calling because I’m a conscientious neighbor. These dogs are pit bulls, and their owner is a hothead. We’ve got a lot of little kids around here… They could get hurt if they get loose… Okay, thank you.”

Moments later, a police cruiser stops in front of Viper’s house.

Viper bursts through his front door, confronting a stupefied Roger.

“Cheap shot, Poindexter, callin’ five-o on me!”

The yapping pit bulls capture the responding officer's attention.

“How many dogs have you got in your backyard?” Officer Malakai Mannix asks.

Viper shrinks under the weight of the black officer’s grim expression. “C’mon. From one brother to another, I’m just tryin’ to earn a livin’.”

“How many?” Mannix repeats.

“A dozen or so.”

“Sounds like two dozen,” Curt Columbo, the second officer, notes.

“Suppose we take a look, eh, Viper?” Mannix says.

“You recognize me?”

“Yeah. You cost me a fortune in the Colts - Saints game when you knocked their quarterback out with a cheap shot.”

“Not a fan then, eh?”

Officer Mannix adjusts the belt carrying his weapon, staring defiantly at the taller man. “Let’s put it this way. If we go into your backyard and there’s more than twelve dogs, and they’re unlicensed, the only signature you’ll be giving me will be on a voucher when we collect your belongings and throw you in jail.”

Officer Columbo glances at Roger, then at Baloney, who wags her tail, commenting, “Now that’s a nice dog. Stay here. We’ll be needing a statement. Roger, Wilco?”

Roger laughs at Columbo’s joke about his name, pretending it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

Minutes later, Officer Mannix pushes Viper past Roger Viper in handcuffs.

“You’ll pay for this, you pipsqueak squealer! You and your mutt!”

“There’s got to be two dozen dogs crowded together back there, all malnourished,” Columbo says to Roger. “You did the right thing by calling us. It’s a first-class case of animal cruelty.”

                                             ***

Roger marvels at the change in the neighborhood over the past three days. Kids are speeding up and down the street on their bikes, neighbors are out gardening, and he’s playing fetch with Baloney in the front yard.

As Baloney retrieves the ball, it dawns on Roger that he’s out of dog food.

“Gotta go to the store, Baloney. I’ll only be a few minutes,” he says.

Huffing, Baloney moves to a tree by the side of the house and lays down, resting.

                                         ***

Dragging her suitcase up the steps, Heddy calls out to Roger. “I’m home! I got an early flight.”

Heddy enters their bedroom, noticing Baloney’s stuffed toys on the bed.

Cursing, Heddy sweeps them aside.

“Gifts for that skanky shepherd and nothing for me. He doesn’t even have the decency to be here when I come home early to surprise him.”

Reaching into her suitcase, Heddy forages around for her anti-depressants. Forgetting she’d taken two pills to ease her fear of flying, Heddy doubles up on her dosage.

She dials Roger on her cell phone.

She doesn’t know Roger is looking at dog food brands in a store and left his cell phone in the car.

Heddy shouts into the phone, “No one but a selfish wimp would pick a dog over me!” and then hangs up.

Feeling dizzy, she curls up on the bed.

Curious about the noise inside, Baloney uses her snout to open the screen door.

Climbing the steps, Baloney enters the bedroom.

She licks Heddy’s ear. Muttering, Heddy swats at the air.

Baloney nuzzles her, licking her cheek.

Heddy moans, spitting up a white foam.

Baloney spots Heddy’s cell phone, putting her paw on it.

A voice on the other end says, “Hello? Emergency Services…”

The dispatcher hangs up after a few seconds of dead air.

Baloney puts her paw back on the phone.

“Hello? Emergency Services…”

Getting no response, the dispatcher hangs up.

Baloney dials the number again.

“Hello? This is Emergency Services. Is anybody there?”

Heddy groans, turning over on her side.

“Can you hear me? Are you sick? Okay, we’re sending help!”

                                               ***

An ambulance arrives at Roger’s house as he pulls into the driveway.

“Did you call for Emergency Services?” an EMT asks.

Before Roger can answer, Baloney’s barking grabs his attention.

Baloney continues to bark until Roger and the EMTs follow her upstairs.

                                               ***

“So, what do you think of Baloney now?” Roger asks, snuggling up to Heddy in her hospital bed.

“My opinion of that hellhound hasn’t changed.”

“But she saved your life!”

“I’ll send her a chew toy. Hope she chokes on it. Look, Roger. I realized something while I was in Las Vegas…”

“That love conquers all? Even a fear of dogs?”

“No. That our relationship isn’t love.”

Stunned, Roger asks, “Then what is it?”

“Convenience. We were kids when we met. Everything was new and exciting. But I’ve come to realize you’re safe, boring. I met a guy online recently, another writer who is ambitious, smart, funny, and not afraid to take chances. We got together while I was in Las Vegas. I’ll be moving there as soon as I’m discharged. Don’t feel sad. You’ll still have a girl that loves you… Your dog.”

                                               ***

Roger tosses a ball to Baloney in the front yard. It’s been a week since Heddy left him, but the disappointment lingers, causing him to absent-mindedly toss the ball into the street.

Chuffing contentedly, Baloney races after it.

A battered SUV coming up the street picks up speed, ramming into Baloney. It backs up, running over her again.

Viper pops out of the driver’s side.

“TOLD YOU I’D GET EVEN!”

                                               ***

Roger sobs as the Animal Control team wraps up Baloney’s body.

A pleasant-looking woman holding a clipboard approaches Roger.

“Was she your pet?”

“Yes. My Baloney.”

“What a fun name.”

“She was a fun girl,” Roger responds.

“I bet. I love animals, especially dogs, so I feel your pain. I know you’re in shock right now, and it’s okay to grieve, but you shouldn’t blame yourself or shut out the rest of the world.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to. I’m going to see to it that the animal who killed Baloney goes to jail.”

“He just might,” the woman replies. “Mister Axton was out on bail. Two of your neighbors saw him accelerate when he saw Baloney. He’s going to be charged with animal cruelty… Again.”

The woman hands him the clipboard.

“I need a signature for our records. I don’t normally say this, but I can see you need support, maybe counseling. I’d like to help.”

“That’s very kind. I could use a friend. Do you like baloney?”