3.
Sandwich House, Babylon Gardens, Sunday at 08:40
“Good morning,” Peanut said, showing off his best smile, ears raised, within his limit of possibility, and tail wagging cheerfully.
Grape rubbed her eyes. “Gmghd mrnghn,” she mumbled. Instead of her usual stretch, the violet cat accepted the tawny dog’s embrace and repeatedly rubbed against his chest and throat. In return, he gently caressed her side and behind the ear. Hmm, he was such a natural for cuddling, and to think she’d wasted all this time avoiding him…
Happy thoughts, Grape Jelly!
Grape sighed, and got out of bed stretching her arms one last time. “We still have time?”
Peanut glanced at the clock on the wall. “We still have fifteen minutes...” His smile became more malicious, and he repeatedly raised his eyebrows like Wile E. Coyote.
She pushed him away playfully. “I know
you, wise guy: we’ll be done in the evening. Remember when you almost made us skip the documentary on the Savannah?” As a devout fanatic of the
Pridelands books and movies, Grape did not miss a single program related to the series, from the interviews to the specials and documentaries. And Peanut, caught in the mania since that time they went to the bookstore for the release of the series’ last chapter (of which the yet latest chapter was soon to be released!), was no less fanatical. In fact, it was him who kept track and advised her on many things she would have otherwise missed.
And you never let him read any of your fan fictions, said the bad voice. It was like a malevolent scale – the moment Grape would feel happy, a weight descended on that scale to compensate...
Peanut pulled her by the arm. “Come on, there’s only ten minutes to the party! I want to be among the first!” He stuck out his tongue with an amused grimace. “By the way, you didn’t seem to mind cuddling, then.”
Grape sighed, saying to herself he was right, after all.
Then why is the very idea of smiling to him in public turning your bowels into smelly jelly, honey?
Her expression fell like a sheet of wallpaper ripped off hard. She shook her head. What was with her, today? She was used to being cautious about public effusions, but it seemed the paranoia had shifted into high gear, today.
She joined the dog in heading towards the door. She was with Peanut, and he made her happy. They were going to a party attended by all of Babylon Gardens, the stars were to be Mr. ‘call me Martin’ Foster’s animals, and there would be as much of the best food that a former stray could ever want!
So, shut up, you silly bad conscience!
Peanut opened the door, and his smile sort of staggered. “Max..?!”
A flashback crossed both the minds of Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly: the memory of a rainy night, a night that, against every expectation, had taken an unexpected turn when Max had appeared on the doorstep of the Sandwich household, looking all sad, asking to spend the night there inside from the rain because his Dad had locked him out; a night that ended with Grape’s idea to devote herself to the false dating to hide their relationship.
But it was just a bad memory. This was not a rainy night, and Max, a handsome black cat with a belly tinged with gray, and two intense aquamarine eyes, was showing his trademark ‘Cheshire Cat’ smile. He was wearing his neck collar for big occasions. “I thought it would be unfair to get there first, for this joyful event.”
“Hello Max,” Grape simply said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. The agreement after their last ‘chat’, was clear: good friends, yes, but the merchandise is not to be touched.
Foster Mansion was a few footsteps away, right at the end of Overview Grove. Animals and humans already had formed a dense crowd. Talking in a normal voice was almost impossible.
“Snazzy today, aren’t you?” Grape asked her ex-wooer.
Max fixed his collar. “Apart from the fact that Mom would have made me regret not putting it on, I must look my best. And with this baby on, my appeal-o-meter skyrockets. Now that I am free, I will have to give numbers to manage the line of aspiring suitors!” Grape snickered. Max pouted. “If you want to keep breaking my heart, Miss, then…” Grape put her paw in front of his mouth, gesturing with the other. “Oh, it isn’t that, believe me. It’s… You haven’t seen the Foster pets yet?”
Max raised an eyebrow. “No. With all the preparations under way it would be easier to sneak into the secret Good Ol’ Dogs snowball event.”
Peanut remembered that event well – a pure, almost primitive demonstration of canine joy on a field thickly covered in snow, with the sole purpose of surrendering to the mere
physicality of the game with an impressive number of participants in a cacophony of barks, whining, howls and every other repertoire of the vocal and gestural catalogue of canines. It wasn’t surprising, that such an event was the antithesis of the relatively more sophisticated Yarn Ball, organized by the neighborhood cats in the courtyard of the local
Pizza Palace. The dogs of B.G. used the struggle on the snow to vent the tensions accumulated before, during and after the Holidays. The cats would wouldn’t have attempted it, not out of wickedness, but because no sane person or pet would stand in the way of an oncoming avalanche.
Peanut, indeed,
hadn’t attended that year. The circumstances had first pushed him to confess his feelings for Grape to Sabrina, in addition to telling her that Grape and he knew about her and Fido. Then fate had
literally pushed him into the arms of a very depressed Grape who was coming from a quarrel with Max. Finally together, alone, in the silence of a winter morning, they could talk again uninterrupted about their relationship, their feelings, to restore and strengthen the bond that had weakened so much in previous months…
“Well, are you in for a surprise, handsome,” said the cat. “And don’t worry, you won’t be the only one.”
“Did you…” Max shifted his gaze to Peanut. “Have you
met them? First? And what kind of guys are they?” If a cat had been able to wag its tail out of curiosity…
“Oh, words do not make them justice,” replied Peanut, as if reciting poetry.
Unfortunately, the crowd was too dense. The animals had to overlap to see near the gate that marked the entrance to the pathway to Foster Mansion. Then the gate opened and –
Plop!
Ploploploploploploploploploploploploplop!
Max looked around, positively amazed. The entire female pet population of Babylon Gardens had collapsed to earth as a single animal, their faces contorted in a rictus of pure bliss.
“Good day to everybody!” Martin Foster said, rubbing his hands together. “You all know who I am; therefore I won’t waste time introducing myself. Rather, it’s my kids, I’d like you meet before we begin the celebrations. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you Antares, Aldebaran, Mizar and Alcor, my beloved, my protected, my family.
Max had stopped hearing the words from the human before he even was finished speaking. “Crickey!” he croaked, suddenly feeling like the most wretched of strays, and he wasn’t the only one, judging from the expressions of the other males – dogs, cats, or otherwise. The Foster pets were simply
gorgeous. They were a category apart, and there was a certainty there would be a
marked increase in the sales of Valentines, next year.
A short applause greeted the presentation of the furry quartet, and Martin consulted the clock. “It’s time! Welcome, and have fun everybody!” He snapped his fingers, and from the park on which the villa lay came the notes of a classic disco piece of the 70s.
Yahoo! This is your celebration
Yahoo! This is your celebration
Celebrate good times, come on! (Let’s Celebrate)
Celebrate good times, come on! (Let’s celebrate)...
“The band is already on stage?” asked one of the guests, after shaking the hand of the house’s owner.
Martin shook his head. “Nah, the
Project ReFur Band will play the closing concert. You will be surprised,” and he winked. “Welcome, hello, good morning... Hey, hello there little Sandwiches! I insist you make yourself at home today, Hakuna Matata and all that stuff. Hello, neighbor...”
Max walked before the colossal twins Antares and Aldebaran. They might look docile and lively with those intelligent, brown eyes of theirs. But Max used to be an experienced fighter back when he was a stray, and he recognized two storms ready to explode if given the chance. And, wisely, decided to limit his greeting to a friendly, toothy smile. “Ah, hello?”
They responded with two
monstrous traps a whole grizzly could have fallen into, and Max felt as if he was about to faint. “Hello to you too,” they said in unison, with the tone of two oversized puppies.
“Don’t worry,” said the white cat, reaching out his hand while Mizar greeted the familiar Black Labrador, for whom the universal greeting was enough, “Hi, I’m Daisy!” followed by that radiant smile. “They don’t bite... usually, and for now they’ve had more than enough to eat.”
Max nodded weakly. He also realized he’d underestimated this dandy dude. He appeared as if he could be out of an illustration book, but he had a firm grip, and his body was made of much more toned muscles than those you would expect from a normal house cat. And though he didn’t have visible scars on his body, his eyes were those of a warrior. Max had a feeling if this cat had known Grape in the past; he would have won her heart in no time... “Oh, pleased to meet ya, Alcor. I’m Max, See you later?”
“Sure!” Then Alcor went to greet an enormous cat who more closely resembled an ocelot on steroids: Ivan. Instead of reciprocating the handshake, Ivan lifted him from the ground in a bear hug. “Ivan is
very pleased to know you Snowball!” Both Grape and Max felt reassured by seeing the usually composed ‘snowball’ send forth a stammering squeak. Judging by his expression, it seemed he would actually need a good massage, later…
“Nice place,” said Max, leaving the pathway to enter the actual park. In his mind, he was already seeing the place as the home for the next Yarn Ball. It was just… perfect, it was hard to believe that picture-perfect lawn was once a jungle of weeds grown around the dull gray ruins where they used to go to tell campfire horror tales. The “Haunted House.”
“Enjoying the view…” a voice, said from behind the trio. An unpleasantly familiar voice. “…because here the Good Ol’ Dogs’ Club will be holding its regular meetings. No cats allowed.”
“Hello to you too, Bino,” said Max walking toward the group composed by Fido’s younger brother, the grey-and-silver furred Fox, and Rex the big bulldog.
Max looked around, puzzled. “Hmm, interesting, isn’t it, since I don’t see any signs reading ‘No cats allowed’ here abouts.”
“Be funny as you wish, fleabag, but Mr. Foster-”
“Call him Martin,” mocked Grape.
“-Has promised to allow us the use of his property for our weekly gatherings
every Sunday, barbecue included.” Bino folded his arms to his chest pompously. “If I feel like it, I will take a vote to leave you the leftovers, so don’t take advantage of my generosity.”
“Speaking of Martin, you forgot to tell Max that he was asking you to look for him so he could talk about his annual ball,” Mizar said in that moment. Fox and Rex looked at her with two large hearts for eyes their tongues drooping to the ground. The white female German shepherd approached Bino and tickled the bridge of his nose with a claw. “*Tee-hee* you’re such a naughty boy, Biney.”
“Guhbuh,” gasped the poor fellow with dot-sized pupils. In his own way, Peanut understood what Bino was going through.
Max instead brightened up. “Does this mean that he..?” he didn’t dare hope. The reason for which the annual dance was held at the Pizza Palace’s courtyard – and believe it, asphalt and concrete in winter was almost
worse than ice – was because it was the only place in Babylon Gardens with enough room to entertain all of the local cats. Although the other animals were welcome, technically speaking, should the dogs also join the ball, the courtyard would have exploded.
This park was a perfect replacement! There was enough room for everybody, and there was hope they needn’t scavenge here and there for passable snacks...
Mizar nodded, giving him a nice smile and tail-wagging, “If you hurry, you’ll find him at the main buffet. He’s waiting for you to discuss the details. And don’t worry about interrupting him; he always gives priority to pets.”
Max darted away so quickly that only his shadow on the lawn was left behind.
Bino snorted. “Couldn’t you have waited for me to roast him a little longer? Sometimes, that smile of his makes me want to take an eraser and remove it.”
Mizar stared at him curiously. “You live with him; he’s your friend, isn’t he? Why do you act like that over an annual ball?”
In response, Bino flashed her those green eyes that were better suited on a cobra rather than a dog. “Just why don’t you mind
your own business!?” He snapped, then walked away, followed by Rex and Fox. “Sorry for that,” said the husky passing by her.
Mizar shrugged and turned to Grape. “
Der Fuehrer, huh?” She said, referring to him as Grape described him the first time Bino was mentioned. “I see. Oh, well. Come on, let’s have some fun rather than staying here all alone. Hop, hop!” She grabbed her neighbors by the arms and took them with her. Grape was grateful, very grateful that this female had not made mention of her and Peanut, not even jokingly.
So you can trust these four stooges, Grape!
---
They found Max talking to Martin, who seemed to care little about the people with whom he was speaking a moment before. They arrived just in time to see the two shaking hands. Max’s whiskers were trembling with excitement and his entire tail was acting like a metronome. Easy to imagine how the conversation went. Indeed, a moment later, Max ran to hug Grape, lifting her off the ground. “He said
yes! All night long, all the music we want, all the
food we want, and fireworks at will! It will be
amazing! I love that human!” Saying so, he improvised a few dance steps with her in celebration.
Grape was happy to see that Peanut was sporting a smug as well as sincere smile. To Max, when he put her down, she said, “I’m really happy for you Maxie. For all of you… although I imagine there
won’t be any catnip, right?”
He sighed. “The way Mr. Foster put it, if I insisted on it, we’d end up dancing behind the landfill.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, we’ll survive without it. Fester, maybe, won’t.” Fester was the supplier of the forbidden… grass. Supplier and monopolist. The Yarn Ball was a big business day for him every year, but this time he was destined to remain stinted..!
The last time Grape had nipped, it was exactly at the Yarn Ball where she had come to know Max better. One cigarette, and she’d gotten revved up like a Ferrari. And it took the nip’s aroma to push her for the first time to go confess her true feelings for Peanut… But it was when she was finally ready for the big speech, that Morpheus had taken her into his arms. Then, it would have been months before finding the courage again – and thankfully not with that crap clouding her mind!
Martin turned back to his furless guests. “Where were we? Ah yes, the shelter. First, the name.” He drew an imaginary arc with his arm, “
The Lucky Charm Garden. A little tacky, maybe, but I wanted to give you a first idea: no more squalid names such as ‘shelter home’ or anything related to a pound. You’ll see, it won’t even be recognizable–” He stopped in midsentence at the sound of a scuffle, unfortunately unmistakably canine! Martin swore and ran toward the source of the racket. Just what he needed, not even an hour and already someone was dying to lose some fur! And with all the animals, the risk that the brawl could extend to the others was magnified! And should that happen, this would be the last collective party for a long time to come...
Martin heaved a sigh of relief to himself, at the sight of Aldebaran and Antares each holding back a enraged dog. Bino he recognized, and another, an orange pitbull with possessed eyes, was that... Oh yeah,
Tiger.
“Let me go, you oversized mutt!” Tiger was barking, hair straight, his fangs bared in a murderous snarl. He even seemed to want to unsheathe his claws like a cat. “When I’m finished with him–”
“Finished!?
Hah!” Bino seemed to be having the time of his life. In fact, Aldebaran should have covered his mouth rather than just holding him. “You can’t even
start anything! If someone stepped on your tail, you would just spend the time cursing, you son of cat!”
It was like lighting dynamite with a short fuse. The pitbull actually succeeded in making Antares sweat! If Tiger had been able to tear off those arms to bite Bino, he would have. Bino realized this, and lost some of his boldness. This time he’d truly overdone it…
“Enough,” said Martin, putting himself between the two contenders, and then squatted down… “Enough. With. This.” He reached out and grabbed each dog’s ear... and gave them a terrible pinch, just where it hurt most! The other pets started upon hearing the yelps of pain from the two dogs.
The two suffered, but they stopped fighting, for now. Committed to throwing each other dirty looks as they tended their ears, Tiger and Bino listened to what Martin Foster said, with what seemed like an angry tone, something that they never would have imagined he could show, “Boys, this is
my territory,
my rules and
my responsibilities. Now, Tiger, you come inside with me, where you will give me your story of what happened. Then Bino will give me his, are we clear?”
“Mr. Foster–” Jerry Arbelt, Tiger’s owner, tried to say.
Without rising from the ground, Martin lifted a hand for him to keep silent. “I said…
my rules. No one shall toss out any animal from here unless
I say so. I did not put together this party to make it a bouncer competition. Are we clear on that?” then he stood up. Everyone present was silent, fascinated by that radical change of mood.
Earl Sandwich was one of those witnesses. One part of him was pleased to learn that this young man harbored some other emotion besides his unconditional devotion to animals, the other found the speed with which this new aspect appeared was, well... alarming.
“Jerry,” Martin said, then turning to a man with a goatee and a not-so-shaven beard, “Jake, one more thing. Whatever happens, even if I come out of my house with a dozen stitches in my arm, there will be
no punishment for these two dogs, got it? Not even a slap on the wrist. Consider it a personal favor.”
The owners of Bino and Tiger looked at each other perplexed, and not only them. Their thoughts had gone for a moment to the possible damage lawsuit that anyone else, other than Martin, would have gladly brought down on them. Did this guy act like that because of the moneyloads he had, or was he some kind of masochist?
“If you’re ok with it, boss,” said Jerry.
Martin nodded. “I’m good. Tiger, please, would you follow me into the house?”
Little by little, the participants returned to what they were doing, gossiping, dancing, well… partying.
Every once in a while someone cast a worried glance toward Foster Mansion…
“Oh, this can’t be good,” said a nervous orange cat wearing a blue collar with a medallion showing a large stylized ‘M’. He seemed resigned to the idea that Tiger would be punished. “Why does he keep falling for Bino’s teasing?”
Max waved a five-dollar bill before his friend’s face. “Instead, I bet it’ll go well.”
Marvin the cat, Tiger’s housemate, raised an eyebrow. “If by ‘well’ you mean that he’ll no longer set foot here around, yes.”
“No, by ‘well’ I mean he’ll come out of this with shining colors.” Max said taking out two other bills.
“I didn’t think you believed in miracles,” Marvin said, adding the money from his allowance, “But I hope you’re right.” And he was sincere. Tiger was regularly degraded because of his feline name, and having Marvin as his best, if not only, friend, did not help things in a neighborhood where dogs made a real fuss over the ‘species barrier’ thing. Tiger had become ultra paranoid and extremely aggressive, and calling him a ‘son of cat’ was like pointing a gun at oneself. If it hadn’t been for those two gargantuan twins, blood would have flown today...
Max looked at Grape. “I
always hope for miracles,” he commented, winking at the lavender cat.
How could I survive one mock after another, and not merely because of a weird name, but for being in love with a dog? Grape sighed.
---
“Please have a seat.”
After, literally, years of psychological harassment by other animals, and the consequent punishments imposed by Jerry for his reaction to said abuses, Tiger had learned to put on a tough mask. If others, Marvin excluded, didn’t want to make him happy, he wouldn’t bother to make others happy with those silly smiles like some compliant puppy.
So why did he feel so mortified, as he sat in that lounge chair? Tiger looked around. There were three other chairs, and all five lay in a circle. A large clock, dark wood like almost all the furniture, ticked away pleasantly. There was a brick fireplace, a large library done in briar root, a glass table on which were placed a bookmarked Stephen King novel and some kind of remote next to the book. Only there didn’t seem to be any device that would require a remote control, in the room...
“Cable radio,” said Martin, making him wince. The man had taken a large volume from the highest shelf of the library. “This is our reading room, and the only media allowed here is a good classical music channel. The recreation room, however, allows one to experiment with any kind of music.”
Tiger listened. The acoustic insulation was really good, he had to strive to perceive the high-volume broadcast from the recreation room. What was that...
Mazinger Z? Whatever it was, it was delivered in a nonsense language, and it was still almost overshadowed by the excited barking, unmistakably recognizable as Joey and his four strange friends. It had to be Japanese animation; only those guys were so ecstatic about that stuff.
Martin sat in the chair in front of Tiger. “I promised those kids a couple of meetings a week, Tuesday and Thursday. While Wednesday night is for Ryan – Fido’s owner, you know – and his D&D fellas. I hope to engage them in some session of MTG, someday–”
“What was it you had to say to me?” broke in Tiger, who in the meantime had had time to flesh out his boldness.
Martin showed him
that smile, and Tiger blushed slightly, ashamed of being rude. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” He slapped a thick volume in black leather with a decorated gold edge. “I am a strong supporter of the new technologies, and I think that the Internet is a great thing. But when it comes to saying things as they are,
nothing has the dignity, solemnity and seriousness as a noble encyclopedia” He repeated the slapping gesture. The light from the window illuminated the volume.
Tiger snorted. “I’ve already searched the internet for all I need to know about a tiger. It’s a stupid cat... just a little bigger. And I don’t like being called a cat, and Dad doesn’t understand, and all those stupid dogs that expect me to catch yarns, and...” He couldn’t believe it, he was
cracking. He felt those stupid tears piling up like he used to do when he was a puppy, when he didn’t understand why his name was so funny and everyone treated him as if he was a weirdo...
The sound of fabric tearing brought his attention back to where he was... and he found he’d gripped the armrests in such a way as to rip the covering. If he had not kept firmly in control, he would have wet himself out of fear.
Now he was in trouble…
Martin took him gently by his shoulders. “Tiger? Hey, boy, look at me. Tiger.” His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. His face was an inch from the canine muzzle, and he pointed at his eyes like John Travolta in that movie... “It’s all right, okey-dokey?
It’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Come on; take a deep breath and... theeeere, good. Better?”
Actually, Tiger was feeling better. A bit. His ears were flattened onto his skull and he did not dare make eye contact with Martin. “I’m sorry for the chair, I didn’t...”
“I know you didn’t mean to do it, and I budgeted for damages like this when I bought and furnished this place. Did you think I wasn’t planning on spending more money after this party? Or didn’t you notice that there aren’t any vases in this house?” Actually, now that he’d pointed it out... “Mizar and Alcor look may look like good, perfect kids, but when they begin their wrestling... well, they take off. During said sessions, they pass more time jumping and bouncing like those magic rubber balls than staying on the ground. And the other two, well, I’m afraid that someday the seismic waves they produce will drop the vases from our
neighbors’ tables.” He chuckled, and Tiger with him. How long had it been since a human made him feel this
good?
“Remember, you can come here anytime if something bothers you. I have a gym, so you can vent a bit in a constructive way, and put on a physique more appropriate for a creature with a tough name like yours.”
Tiger did not like, among
many other things, to be reminded of the fat that he had inevitably put on. Since he couldn’t beat up anyone, unless he wanted to spend another month in the garage, he ended up venting frustration with food. Pizza and cookies were the lion’s share of his diet by now, and the regular walkies he had couldn’t prevent the calories from gaining victory after victory. Dad put him on a diet, but it didn’t seem to do much good, and dry diet food
sucked... “You have a gym?”
Martin nodded. “Aldebaran and Antares use it to keep themselves in shape. I like to do some sessions with them when I can, but I can barely survive their pace. I’m sure they will be happy to have you aboard. Indeed, with a little luck you could soon be running your own super exclusive fitness club, in da face of those jealous lazy dogs! “
That was an idea that Tiger did not mind at all. He
had to see the place, but first it was time to give voice to the tenant of his bad conscience. “Ah... you,” he gulped. “You said I have a tough name?”
Martin sat back down. He put the volume in his lap, and gave it another slap. “It’s your turn to get up and find out why. Believe me, handsome, you’ll
never have to be ashamed of your name again.”
A small cluster of animals was waiting at the entrance. Swarms of assumptions rained down from mouth to mouth, along with uneducated small jokes against Tiger, and black humor about the human who was trying to console him. “The poor thing,” someone said, “just arrived and already going to be sent to the hospital…” or “perhaps, in one day, he’ll manage to go through an entire year’s provisions…”
Marvin just wanted to kick them all into silence them. For once, even Zachary, the gray rabbit who lived with him and Tiger, felt solidarity with the dog that, in turn, tormented him nine times out of ten because of his paranoia about losing those last favors he enjoyed to the ‘newcomer’...
The mahogany door opened. Everyone shut up, in a small sea of stunned expressions and pinhole-eyes.
Tiger emerged from the porch.
Tiger was... smiling. Not a ferocious smile, not threatening, or seasoned by any hostility. No, Tiger was
happy. A grin of renewed confidence stretched his muzzle. His pace reflected his renewed inner confidence. He passed by animals like Caesar paraded before the peoples he’d defeated, his chest all puffed out.
It was something so
new that even Bino, who had reason to fear a bloody retaliation for the words he had spoken before, looked at Tiger approaching him without running away. Then, Tiger took him by his shoulders, making him jump, ears straight up... and planted a kiss on his cheek!
“I am Tiger,” he said without letting Bino go, staring straight into his eyes. “I am Tiger, the terror of the jungle, the king of the Panzer tank divisions, the hero of Mompracem, and you are… a yapping cur with a funny name.” He concluded by giving a light pat on the cheek he’d just kissed, and let him go. “I am Tiger, I am tough, and I love that human,” he said one last time, heading for a group of females who only at that moment seemed to have noticed his existence.
Marvin paid Max the thirty dollars, adding thirty more. Goodbye hard-earned money, but
man was that moment worth it! “Tell me that you didn’t arrange that with Mr. Martin.”
Things had gone even beyond the most optimistic forecasts. Max himself pocketed the money without even enjoying it as he usually did. “Frick, that guy is awesome. I wonder if he’s still adopting.”
Among the spectators of that absurd metamorphosis, there was Fido, who repeatedly had to rub my eyes and ears. Then looked at Martin as if he came from another planet. “Sir, you... you...”
“Call me Martin.”
“Martin, what did you
do?” He wouldn’t be surprised if the man had said that it had something to do with some
very strong drugs.
Martin shrugged. “The miracle of good ol’ correct information, my boy. Tiger didn’t need a lecture, or a biscuit. He needed to know what his name implies, beside etymology.”
“Do you have something just as cool, for mice?” Said a voice so tiny that it seemed Fido had played a ventriloquist game on him.
“Did you say something, my boy?” asked the man.
Fido sighed and pointed to the tuft of fur on his head. From there, came a small gray figure no taller than 8 inches. “Martin,” said Fido, “this is Spo.”
Spo extended a paw to the human. “Honored.”
“Oh, I guess I am too.” Martin held out his pinky. “You have a nice name.”
“Thanks, boss! My younger brother is called Spp. Mom hopes to baptize at least one ESPN.”
Martin snorted a laugh through his nose. At Fido, he said, “Your little friend is cool. Have you eaten anything, Spo?”
In response, came an over-sized rumble from the belly of the mouse.
“I brought some cereal for him,” said Fido, “but he doesn’t seem to be hungry.”
“Don’t tell
me!” snapped Spo. With his tiny arms, he tried to embrace all the tables about which humans and animals swarmed like polite locusts. “Can’t you
see? It’s as if Dracula had to choose the mummy when he had the over-fat lady already under his fangs! Is there no one who has a little
pity for the only mouse at this ‘party’?”
“Spo,” said Fido, patiently, “you know as well as I, for how much this is a pet-friendly place, feral mice are not exactly the guests of honor at the buffet.”
“Awful prejudice,” said Martin, “but there is a remedy for everything. Come on inside, Hop hop,” and pushed Fido and his ‘cargo’ toward the entrance.
Once in the kitchen, where several people and pets were replenishing the supply of salads, seasoning, drinks and whatever else was going down the maelstrom of mouths outside, Martin quickly greeted them all, and then went to a doll-sized cupboard placed by the side of the regular one. A perfect, black-lacquered replica. “When I added this, I thought there were other owners of mice in the neighborhood. In Japan, what with the little room they have, it’s the fashion among students. In New York, instead, the upper class finds pet rats to be the latest fashion.” He got a pair of tweezers hanging in the cupboard and used them to extract a tiny bowl already provided with a spoon. Then, in the same way, he took a tiny bag readable only with a magnifying glass. “Ah, just what the doctor ordered for us… I mean for you, Spo.” He used the tweezers to open the bag and pour the contents into the bowl. Then he went to the sink, and used a drop of water to moisten the powder and rapidly stirred the contents with the doll-spoon. Finally, he served the dish to Spo. “Here. It’s not a sandwich, but the guy who sold it to me told me that mice go crazy for this. If you don’t like it, I promise that I’ll let you take a dip in a tray full of food, what do you say?”
“Hmm, why not?” Spo took the dish. At first he
was tempted to cheat on the guy, but having this dish between his paws was really heartwarming, in a way he rarely experienced.
He’d never had a tiny bowl all for himself. Yes, it was stupid, it was just an object where one placed the food, but it was his own first tiny bowl...
The mouse cleared his throat before he’d give up once and for all to his feelings. However, that mushlike stuff didn’t smell bad... He quickly swallowed a spoonful... and his taste buds went into overload! “OhmygodohmygodIloveitmorethanlifeitself! It is
exquisite! “He finished what was left in three very generous spoonfuls, then handed the empty bowl to Martin.
“Spo...” Fido admonished him.
“Relax, boy,” said Martin, repeating Fido’s action. “What kind of party is it, if one cannot enjoy oneself? Help yourself, I have provided enough for your big appetite.”
“Mr. Martin..?” said a shy voice from the entrance.
The man turned. “Oh, Zach, right?” There were not many rabbits in Babylon, either. And those few used to keep themselves aloof, even from each other.
Zachary nodded. “C…can I, uh, speak to you a second?”
“Sure! Fido, you’ve seen how it’s done. Keep refueling your little friend until he asks to do himself. Excuse me. “And he walked toward the rabbit.
Watching him leave, Spo exhaled a happy sigh, his eyes dreamy. “I love that human.”
“He has that effect, it seems.”
“Hmm, you sound uncertain. Has the king of B.G.’s police dogs sensed something fishy?” Suddenly, the adrenaline started to run rampant in the mouse’s veins. That was the most dangerous moment, when he was likely to go motormouth, with a volume that didn’t seem physically possible for those little lungs.
And there were too many prying ears in the kitchen, though so far no one seemed to have noticed that rambling speech. Fido shook his head slightly to unseat Spo against his ear and silence him, then went out. “Hey, I want some more mush of the Gods! Where are we going? I see, it’s time for a baddies hunt? The jackets are already inside the ring, eh? Kevin is dying to tackle someone today...”
Normally, Spo was not the subject of much attention, so Fido went down the aisles at a brisk pace but without running so as to not attract attention
himself. If someone had asked him where he was going, he would tell the truth: That he was going to the bathroom.
As soon as he entered, the Garden’s most famous hound started checking the room, bending and sniffing the stalls, to make sure not another soul was inside. Then he walked toward the corner farthest from the door and leaned against the wall. He took Spo from his head and, holding him in his palm, said, “I do not know what it is, exactly. It’s not the classic doubt from ‘everything is too perfect to be true’. That Martin is a
really dedicated person, and heaven knows that we need more people like him the world... But...” Fido bit his lip. Sometimes, the words were so difficult to find...
“He’s compensating,” said a pensive Spo suddenly.
That was the right word.
“Can you repeat that?” said Fido.
The dog saw the mouse was focusing hard, while usually, when he had an inspiration, he started going all Woody Woodpecker. This was going to be an unprecedented day... “You know, all those times when I speak nonsense at the wrong time and you get so angry? And then I stay quiet for the whole day because you have many other things on your mind? Well, that guy reminds me of myself when I do the same thing: only he does good deeds. He’s doing his damnedest, not to make a successful party, but because he is asking for forgiveness for something. What do you say?”
Fido was genuinely astounded... and a bit embarrassed to discover that his little friend was capable of so much attention. He made a mental note to keep him handy for the interrogations... “I say, well, you’re right.” If it was true, that human didn’t just have a skeleton in the closet, but an entire mammoth in the garage.
But he was so young! He was 35 years, according to the registry office. What could he have already done that was so
terrible it required so many means to unload his shame? Trying to imagine it sent a shiver down Fido’s spine. Some boys could be
very bad, after all…
"Hey there, Bino!"
Mizar’s cheerful voice had, finally, the effect of shaking the the Good Old Dogs Club’s President out of the trance that had befallen him. Of all the things that could cause somebody to lose their mind, in that day already full of surprises, to see Tiger reborn as a new, self-confident dog had…amazed him, to say the least.
Amazed, and scared. Tiger's tantrums were usually harmless, very loud...and a lot of fun. The neurotic Pitbull was his favorite target when he wanted to have a few cheap laughs and a bit of adrenaline. And if things threatened to go wrong, Marvin was the one who held Tiger back. Marvin. A cat. Which was good for more laughs.
And now this! A few sweet words from that meddling human, and Tiger could call Bino ‘a cur with a funny name’.
Tiger!
Sasha had tried to appease Bino’s holy wrath, but he hadn’t even paid notice to her. He had no time for the fuss, he was potting his revenge, the heck! Or maybe he could blow off steam at the expense of that freak of Peanut, yes, that cat-lover...! Grape and he could even be pretending to play with their sweethearts Tarot and Max, but Bino had seen him once, that stupid dog, thinking he was alone, while he was playing ' she loves me, loves me not' with a daisy…and then sighing Grape’s name in the way only a lover does.
Bino had to hold himself back from throwing up, while promising himself to wait for the right occasion to ridicule him in front of everyone...
"Hey, Bino?" Again the voice of Mizar.
Again, Bino was shaken from his megalomaniacal thoughts. "Hello, Miz. I'm sorry...I was reflecting."
The white female German Shepherd approached him. "I could see it. You were muttering something about Peanut insistently, at some point."
Bino blushed. "Hm, it's nothing important." No use to involve these strangers, for now. However, she was just a very nice young lady! She made Sasha look ugly too, and the male canines in the neighborhood were unanimous in their assessments. Of course, only Peanut seemed immune to the Mizar's charms...!
Mizar stood behind him, and began to massage his shoulders, with gentle movements that sent him into raptures. "I think so, anyway. Would you like to talk about it?"
"Hmmrr, it's nothing, Peanut is just a silly cat-lover. Club’s matters. I’ll fix it."
"I say that we will fix it," said a threatening male voice.
Bino opened his eyes which had closed in the ecstasy of that massage. And he found himself staring at Antares and Aldebaran. The BIG dogs of Mr. 'Call me Martin' Foster.
The speaker, however, was the fourth pet member of Martin's family: Alcor, the cat, white as Mizar, and whose golden eyes stared with an intense hatred for Bino. "You won't do anything, Bino, now or ever. You will leave Peanut and Grape in peace. Do I make myself clear?"
Bino didn’t understand. He tried to move towards insolent cat, but he was held tightby the shoulders, in the iron grip of Mizar! For being a female, she was as strong as Rex!
Alcor said, "Just for your information Mizar and I are good friends of Peanut and Grape. When you insult them, you insult us. When you think of making it difficult for them, we feel involved. Also because they are our good friends.” He approached Bino, who was about to say something, and laid a claw on his nose. His mellifluous voice was a whisper. "Ssshh, Biney. This is not a debate, this is not a talk show, you just have to listen, and understand if you care for your hide. Mizar and I were strays once, and we survived things that would scare a wolf. You and your tame little gang scare us like a bunch of stuffed toys.
"I repeat, lay a finger on Peanut and Grape, and we will do the same with you. Dad has enough money to buy all the lawyers he wants and you do end up at the shelter. And that's a very, very ugly place, believe me...but even if these arguments are not enough for you… Guys?” He added, without turning.
Antares reached for a branch of one of the thick and gnarled oaks. Bino saw the dog's muscles flex, and the branch leaning a bit, then the branch broke at its base! The sound echoed like a gunshot!
"That was your neck," Antares said, pointing with a finger under the veneer. He held the branch as if it were a toy, but it must have weighed a ton!
Antares then handed the branch to his brother. Aldebaran said, "This is your head." The rest was very fast, a movement of that monstrous mouth whose teeth seemed to be flashing in the light. Bino did not believe that a dog could use his gaping mouth like that! Then the teeth were closed on that branch. And they cut it in an explosion of splinters and wood pulp!
Aldebaran chewed for a few seconds, then spat the chips onto Bino.
"I hope we have explained it well enough," said Alcor. He slapped Bino on the wrist. He smiled showing all of his teeth, and the others did the same. "Pass it on."
Mizar let him go, and Bino fell to his knees. He watched the quartet leave in silence.
Now he had only to decide whether any plan he had in mind for Peanut and Grape was worth his life...
“I don’t know… how, uh, to ask you,” said Zach. The poor rabbit was not frightened, but really embarrassed. His ears were lowered back so much that he could have used them to scratch his heels. “You see, it’s a long story, but for some reason a bunch of wild animals from the nearby forest thinks I’m some kind of herald of a vague golden age for all animals. And, well...” while speaking, Zach led the man around the building and from there to the garden’s most distant area. Martin, truth be told, was not understanding anything the nervous rabbit was saying. But he finally had an idea when he saw the pack of creatures who sat obediently in front of the fence network.
At the sight of Zach, they exploded in a single chorus,
“All Hail the Opener of Ways!”
Martin was baffled; Zach covered his eyes with his hand. “I can’t stand it.”
Martin studied the motley crowd: two raccoons with their kits sitting on their shoulders, two deer, small birds, a lynx... “Do you mind telling me that story?” He said to Zach, without taking his eyes off the group. He had never seen such adoring expressions...
An idea struck him. “No, wait, even better! “
“Huh?”
Martin bent down to whisper densely in Zach’s ear. The rabbit, at first puzzled, opened his eyes wide. Then he turned an imploring look towards the human. “But this will
not help me! They’ll keep thinking that I am their great chief or something! “
Martin shrugged. “I say it would be appropriate to take advantage of this slice of your power. If they give so much credit to you, use it to the common good. I take it they come to visit you at home as they are doing now, right?”
Zach nodded sadly. Dad was ready to call animal control to get rid of those ‘visits’ that inevitably ruined the garden. Not to mention the raccoons had become more daring in their trash quests, and the humans were getting
very annoyed of that... And he felt responsible, but no matter how many times he tried to convince them, the fanatics just wouldn’t let it go! “Martin, are you sure that this is going to fix things, even a little?”
The man placed his hands on his shoulders. “Let’s find out right now. Come on, chief.”
Zach stood before the adoring crowd, and cleared his throat. All those eyes fixed on him were really making him nervous... “Listen, my… friends”
“We listen to the Opener of Ways!”
Zach pointed to Martin, who stood a few paces behind him. “This human, uh, is a good friend of mine, and wants to share his possessions with the needy. He told me he has food and medicine to help the creatures of the forest through winter’s harshest moments. When you need to eat and can find nothing in the snow, the human Martin Foster will make sure you have something to eat. No need to rummage in the other humans’ trash, because you shall have
his abundant garbage at least once a week. And if you will have patience, tonight’s leftovers will be plenty indeed! So, if you would kindly come back after midnight, your hunger will be sated!” He had never tried to make a speech with the tones of a prophet, and he felt a little ridiculous–
The crowd looked at him with renewed respect. Had they not been so unnaturally disciplined it’s guaranteed that they would have bounced like those animals in Disney’s ‘Fantasia’, complete with tutu.
“The Opener of Ways is generous and noble are his disciples! We salute and thank the Opener of Ways,” and that said, the forest animals left.
Zach had a disturbing vision of the same animals trampling him into a hamburger. “You
do swear you will have all those leftovers that I just promised, right? They say that Cuba is beautiful, this time of year.”
Martin gave him a pat between the ears. “You just help me put it into the bags, okay?”
Zach sighed. “But don’t you think that what just happened may be a teensy-weensy
crazy?”
Martin looked at him. For the first time, Zach too saw him suddenly become dark. The rabbit swallowed, thinking that Tiger, angry, appeared less threatening... “There are
worse things, Zachary.” And then the sun returned on his face. “C’mon! I have to go into the kitchen and instruct the others about the garbage. I’ll show you the pantry, you need to take the bags and fill them, hop hop! “
But no sooner had he turned the corner, *THOOMP!* A sort of ground-to-ground missile plowed into Martin, dragging him for a few yards along the lawn, digging a ditch in the grass, and once again plunging the party into a frozen silence.
“I’m fine!” The man raised his hand, his voice muffled by the big Doberman lying on top of him. “I just have to recover the motor functions of my lower limbs, but I’m fine, and my wristwatch is still running! There’s nothing to see!”
“
KEVIN!” cried Fido, immediately rushing out of the house. Defining him as ‘outraged’ would be an understatement. Fido considered his devotion to humans part of his own nature, and as example for the police dogs of Babylon Gardens to follow, he’d feel responsible for their actions and behavior as any good alpha would.
Kevin was a good dog, no doubt. But he had this uncontrollable urge to tackle dogs or humans, whether it was to greet them, or stop them on a chase.
Ignoring Fido, a rare thing for Kevin to do, the Doberman was standing on all fours over Martin, panting like a half-ton happy puppy. “AldebaranandAntarestoldmethatyoualwaysplaytacklewiththem!”
“Not only is it true,” replied the man. His voice was a crescendo of emotion, the best imitation of Jim Carrey in the Attack of the Claw sketch. “But perhaps you can also say that, in the end, I always win because...
I’m the king of tickling!” And so saying, his fingers combed the dog’s body in the most sensitive spaces, triggering a series of laughs and contortions. In short, they formed yet another group of spectators enjoying the view. Even Kevin’s owner had decided to let him have his way…
In a discreet corner, from behind an apple tree, two grim eyes stared at the scene.
“If I were to say there was a time I’d seen you so gloomy,” said the silver husky called Fox, “it was when Bino blew that catnip bomb in your face at the Club’s last Christmas party. What’s wrong?”
The dog that Fox was addressing was a corgi, with black and tan fur on his back, white on his belly and throat, and a huge pair of triangular ears which were now pointing towards Martin like radar dishes.
And in his blue eyes there shone a rarely seen rage. His hands twitched and opened up, trembling. There was no doubt that if he had had that human in his hands, he would’ve done some very, very unpleasant things to him…
Fox squatted next to his short friend. King had a difficult past, and a jerk of a master. He was fine, as you might say from the point of view of nutrition and vaccinations, but he also had a constant, desperate need for affection. Like Tiger, he looked at the other animals with deep suspicion. Fox could say he was indeed the best, if not only, true friend King ever had. Then there was Sasha, but that was another story.
Usually, when he was with Fox, King found peace and felt sociable. And the Husky had made it his mission to keep an eye on this surly creature. Therefore, seeing him regressing to such unadulterated hate was really worrying Fox. “King..?”
What King said in reply, froze Fox’s veins. “Do you remember Joel?”
On an instinct, Fox almost bared his own teeth, but didn’t want to contribute to the sudden tension already surrounding the corgi. If he remembered that... that..?
Once, already one too many times, Fox was kidnapped. PETA had kidnapped him to turn him from being a comfortable and happy domestic dog, into a feral, a stray that was supposed to fight for his life for a morsel of food taken from the filthiest wastes. As the dog of police officer Bill, Fox had heard many of those stories, as well as a living one in his own fur. It had been enough, and it was a memory that he did
not want to relive.
Then there was the
second kidnapping, last year. Joel, and a fat guy of whom he couldn’t remember the name, had taken him at the public park, to inflict on him the same torture that only PETA brainless maniacs could call ‘liberation’. And when, by their own clumsiness, they were about to be arrested, the fat guy almost
killed him. Some ‘animal-lover’, pff!
Joel was the more ‘reluctant accomplice’ of the two. In the end, he had made little, if no, resistance, and had willingly testified against the mastermind of that ridiculous ‘plan’. Fox didn’t believe that that was out of the goodness of his heart, but at least the human had done his duty... Before escaping the prison, God knew how. Fox had not forgotten that he owed the human a couple of ‘favors’ as soon as he could lay his hands on him. As a dog, he didn’t hate people, but there were some who were well-deserving of an exception... “Yes, I remember Joel.”
King, continued to look at Martin with a deep hatred, and said only, “That guy is his brother.”