Read As Dog Is My Witness Online
Authors: JEFFREY COHEN
Tags: #Crime, #Humor, #new jersey, #autism, #groucho, #syndrome, #leah, #mole, #mobster, #aaron, #ethan, #planet of the apes, #comedy, #marx, #christmas, #hannukah, #chanukah, #tucker, #assault, #abduction, #abby, #brother in law, #car, #dog, #gun, #sabotage, #aspergers
As Dog Is My Witness
Jeffrey Cohen
O
THER
B
OOKS BY
J
EFFREY
C
OHEN
F
ICTION
For Whom the Minivan Rolls : An Aaron Tucker
MysteryA Farewell to Legs: An Aaron Tucker
Mystery
N
ON
-F
ICTION
The Asperger Parent: How to Raise A Child
with Asperger Syndrome and Maintain Your Sense of Humor (AAPC)Guns A’ Blazing: Parents Of Children On The
Autism Spectrum And Schools (AAPC)
Copyright 2005 by
Jeffrey Cohen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or
by electronic means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a
reviewer, who may quote passages in a review.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
Bancroft Press (“Books that enlighten”)
P.O. Box 65360, Baltimore, MD 21209
800-637-7377
410-764-1967 (fax)
www.bancroftpress.com
Cover and interior design: Tammy Sneath Grimes,
Crescent Communications www.tsgcrescent.com • 814.941.7447
Author photo: Eve Cohen
ISBN 978-1-61088-000-8
LCCN 2005931487
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than anyone I know, deserves to
have a book dedicated to her
Damn, it was cold!
If this was what December felt like, Michael Huston
was not happily looking forward to February. Still, he thought,
zipping up his coat just a little higher, there were worse things
than walking your dog, even on a freezing night like this one.
The dog, a Dalmatian named (appropriately enough)
Dalma, was taking her sweet time doing what walks are for, so
Michael steered her toward what was her favorite spot, in front of
the house that belonged to Tom Molinari, North Brunswick, New
Jersey’s mayor. Through Thinsulate gloves, Michael fingered the
plastic bag he’d bought at Shop Rite for pooper-scooper use.
Michael hadn’t wanted a dog, but now he found he
liked the quiet time spent every evening with Dalma—it not only led
to some inspired thinking, but heightened his senses. Noticing a
strange sound coming from the green house on the corner, winter and
summer, he tried to determine what it might be (it turned out to be
the motor for a fish tank aerator). He enjoyed making up stories
about the strangers who walked by with their own dogs, and
wondering how close he might be to the truth. He even liked the act
of cleaning up after Dalma because it made him feel like a
responsible citizen: there’s some poop that won’t be left on the
street!
Tonight, however, he was in a hurry, and it wasn’t
just because of the cold. His wife, Karen, had made a point of
kissing him twice before he left with the dog tonight, and he knew
what that meant. It would be good to get home quickly.
In seven years of marriage, Karen and Michael (and
he always gave her top billing) had established a very strong
unspoken understanding—they knew each other so well they didn’t
finish each other’s sentences so much as each other’s thoughts—and
two kisses placed on the lower lip clearly meant “come back
soon—I’ll be waiting for you.
”
Come on, dog!
Michael, anticipating a night most men only dream
about, thought a lot about his marriage—something most men rarely
do. The majority of married couples, he believed, were on autopilot
after the first year. They stayed married because it never occurred
to them not to stay married, but they certainly didn’t put the time
and thought into the relationship that couples like Karen &
Michael (he also thought of them with an ampersand between their
names, like a corporation’s logo) clearly did, and that was what
put them in the rarefied company of People Whose Marriages Were
Still Love Affairs.
Dalma took her sweet time (she knew that once she
was done, it would be a quick sprint back to the house, and her
crate for the night), but eventually, the lure of Mayor Molinari’s
lawn, with all its fond memories and aromas, was too much to
resist, and she assumed the position.
Michael felt for the plastic bag in his pocket, and
took it out, inverting it so the Shop Rite logo would be on the
outside when he was done with his task. Most people didn’t care
about such details, but he did. He wasn’t sure why.
Having completed the clean-up, Michael steered the
dog back in the direction of home. Because his marriage was the
central point in his life, the thing around which everything else
revolved, the upcoming night of passion with a woman he’d known—and
slept with—for nine years was an all-consuming thought. He barely
noticed the patch of ice in front of Mr. Indik’s house, but managed
to avoid slipping on it at the last second. Come on, Dalma, we’re
only two blocks away!
He was so lost in the reverie of anticipation that
he hardly noticed the man in the brown parka approaching him.
Otherwise, Michael would have seen the big, hooded, fur-lined coat
like the one Elliot Gould wore in the movie M*A*S*H. In other
circumstances, he would have seen the hood obscuring the man’s
face.
And in all likelihood, Michael would have seen the
strange-looking antique pistol in the man’s right hand. Not that it
would have done him much good.
Michael’s last thought was: “How can that guy go out
on a night like tonight without gloves?”
FRIENDS
One