Bobby D. Lux - Dog Duty (17 page)

“Everyone knows about it,” I said. “This place alone is why half the dogs locked up don’t give up hope. Someday they may get a chance to hang out here again.”

“Wait a second,” he said. “You’re a German Shepherd. Both of you.”

“I’m only half-”

“Nipper. Quiet,” I said. “Yeah, so? What of it? What, you don’t cater to all breeds? I thought those days were long gone. Haven’t we moved on as a species?”

“Everyone’s scratch is good in here, don’t insult me.”

“What’s your beef then?”

“My beef? You better watch that snout of yours.”

“Tough talk,” I said. “And from a Pinscher, that’s saying something. Well, a
Mini
Pinscher, that is.”

“I know who you are,” he said
, with a spark of recognition.

“No you don’t.” I said.

“Sure I do,” he said, with a cocky grin. The door dog took several brave steps forward. “You’re that cop. Fritz, right?”

“And you are?”

“Someone who knows all too well of your handy work. Just released from the pound, he says.” He looked us up and down and looked particularly unimpressed at Nipper. “Word was you had some replacement, but by the looks of this one, it seems they’ll take anyone nowadays.”

“Is he talking about me?” Nipper said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Let me clear some things up,” Nipper said.

“No need,” the door dog said. “You know what, it would be my absolute pleasure to let the both of you in here tonight. A complete and total pleasure.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” I said. “But we were going in whether you gave us permission or not. Just to be clear.”

“Then I’m glad clearer heads prevailed,” the door dog said, walking over to a double doorway that led down towards a cellar. He pulled on a rope tied to one of the doors. Once the door thudded to the ground, he smiled with that mouth full of needles and stepped out of our way. “Many of our patrons will be excited to see you tonight, Fritz. Enjoy your evening, puppies. Welcome to The Dogcatcher’s Net.”

My hip popped with each step that I took down the stairs towards the basement of the house. I wasn’t in pain, but the rhythmic snaps from the socket did not instill me with a boost in confidence. The cascading roof that ran parallel to the descent of the steps was covered with framed fronts of dog treat and biscuit boxes. The sides of the walls were plastered with taped up and torn movie posters. Any poster that featured a K-9 officer was mangled in the same spot, the part where the dog was supposed to be.

“So what exactly is this place?” Nipper said
, at the bottom of the stairs. We stood in front of the closed door the separated us from the basement. 

“It’s a dive,” I said.
“It’s where dogs go when they don’t want to be found.”

“And how does this help us?”

“Because they all bring their secrets with them to this place.”

“I see. Just, uh, what do you think is about to happen in here?”

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Not even a faint one?”

“It’s impossible to ever know these things. Could be nothing or it could be the end of the road for both of us. We could find Clay in there and he could go quietly. Or, they figured out Ernie was with us and are on the other side of this door waiting to ambush us. I doubt that’s the case, but it’s a possibility. Just play it cool. The only way to know is to go. Don’t stare at anyone. Let me do all the talking. Stay close, but not too close.”

“Sorry,” Nipper said.

“And stop saying sorry. Just take a deep breath.”

In what was just another step for
me and a rite of passage for Nipper, we pushed the door open and stepped into
The Dogcatcher’s Net
. You name the cliché and it was there in full-force. A tepid and soggy cloud of smoke exhaled from countless lungs clung to a ceiling that was too low to be welcoming. Scratchy blues music snuck into the walls from a jukebox on its last breath of neon. A sign hung above it that said “If anyone else marks on the jukebox, so help me, you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise! – Henry.”

A gang of wolf hounds shot pool in the corner, no doubt running some hustle on the poor Labrador who slowly racked the balls for what was
surely another forced round of nine-ball. You came in and wanted to blow off some steam, make some time disappear, and a pack of wolf hounds decided to take you for everything you had. And you thought they were sincere when they offered you a simple wager on a fair game of chance and skill played on the billiards table.

Mutts chewed on plastic darts off to the side. The degenerates sat in a row at the bar. Their heads drooped into bowls full of whatever concoction the bartender had whipped up for the night. The walls were covered with tacky looking (mostly felt) paintings of humans from a different decade playing poker, driving in convertibles, lounging on the beach, farming, boxing, and so on.
       

And on cue, everything stopped on a dime before we could take that second step in. One of the wolf hounds stopped mid-stroke on his pool shot, the music skipped to a halt, the mutts spat out chewed pieces of darts, and the drunks somehow found the resolve to turn their heads from their bowls to face us in unison. I half-checked to see if anyone in the paintings turned.

“Don’t move,” I told Nipper.

“Wasn’t p
lanning to,” Nipper said, under his teeth. I absorbed the sneers and muted snarls and quickly realized that no one was going to budge from whatever activity or inactivity they were engaged in to make trouble for us. Not that they didn’t want to. Then, as quickly as everyone pointed their attention at the two of us, it went back to normal. It was as if we weren’t there again. We made our way through the dump, having to nudge our way through dogs who either saw us and didn’t care to move or were just too stupid drunk to know better. “Uh, Fritz?”

“Yeah?”

“You notice how it’s like no one wants us here?”

“Uh huh,”
I said.

“Should we be concerned?”

“I wouldn’t be. Half these dogs are more worried about going back to the pound than getting revenge on me for putting them there in the first place.”

“So that means that-”

“Congratulations,” I said, stopping. “Everyone in here thinks you’re a cop. At one point or another, I’ve busted just about every creep in this place.”

“That doesn’t give me the reassurance I thought it would.”

“Follow me.”I led Nipper to the bar. The closer we got, the more the drinkers shifted away from us. Others, like the sheepdog spying on us through the fur covering his eyes, summoned the courage to keep their eyes covertly trained on us.

I pushed my face in next to a
drunken Saluki at the bar. The greasiness of his fur and the odor that radiated off his skin told me this wasn’t a one off bender. The stench from whatever was in his bowl was enough to fold my teeth, but he lapped at it completely unaware of my face inches from his. The bartender, an increasingly annoyed Boxer who aimed that annoyance my way, slammed his paw down in front of the drunk to get his attention.

“What?” the drunk said. “Okay, top me off, but that’s it. I mean, maybe one more, but who’s counting?”

“Where’s Henry?” I said, as the bartender gestured towards me. The drunk turned to me like he was on a broken axle and his expression struggled to remain blank.

“I don’t… Wait, what?” the drunk said.

“I need to see Henry.”

“I’m not gonna be walking anywhere tonight. Believe me.”
I grabbed him by the nape of the neck and yanked him to the ground. I was rough, but he wouldn’t remember that tomorrow anyway. I straddled him with my arms and repeated my demand. “Please tell the room to stop spinning first.”

“You leave him alone,” a female
said, as she exited the restroom and hollered across the bar in our direction, before stumbling towards us. I backed off and the drunk spent precious moments trying to put his feet underneath him until he conceded defeat and gave his body to the floor. The female got in my face. Her breath left no doubts as to what she expelled moments prior. “Why don’t you two creeps get out of here? No one wants you breeds here. He didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I was just asking a question,” I said. “He was being argumentative. Not my fault he slipped.”

“Oh, don’t you think you can go and interrupt me. I’m not afraid of you or the pound. And for the record, my litter daddy would never argue with anyone.”

“That’s right, baby doll,” the drunk said. “You tell him.”

“We’re going to need a refill over here, bartender,” I said, as I leaned over and spilled the rest of the putrid contents of his bowl on the drunk. I made sure that some splashed on his litter momma. We walked away. I turned to Nipper as we surveyed. “There you go, Nipper. No one will mess with us the rest of the time we’re here. Feel better?”

“That was for me?” Nipper said.

“For the most part,” I said. It did feel good though.

“What brings
you ‘ere, mate?” a low voice said, rumbling three feet away from me. The voice came from behind Knox and Gash, who were shoulder-to-shoulder directly ahead of me. Ernie was nowhere in the vicinity.

“Since when were you in the business of hiding behind goons?” I said.

“You better watch that tongue,” Gash said.

“Or what?” I said. “You saying you aren’t a goon?”

“He’s got a point,” Knox said. “I, for one, take not a small amount of pride in my goonery.”

Henry pushed his way between the two pit bulls with a face and scent reminiscent of a chewed cigar and punching bag. His jutting under bite and features would’ve been comical if not for the extensive rap sheet that those deformities were associated with. Various stints in the pound on everything from gambling charges to assaults and robberies. Like other English Bulldogs, Henry was built like a bowling ball welded onto a Buick. His right eye was permanently closed shut; the result of a rattlesnake bite according to urban myth.

“I was looking for you,” I said.

“Now why in the world would one as smart as yer’self go an’ do something like that for?” Henry said.

“I thought you could help me.”

“’elp you? Me? Me? ‘e
lp you there, you say? You ‘ear that gents, this bloke says… Oh, ah! ‘elp me! ‘elp me!” Henry clutched at his chest and feigned a heart attack for the amusement of the reprobates who surrounded our conversation. They yucked it up while Henry rolled his tongue from the side of his mouth and blew out to make the folds in his face flap. He continued until every last mutt had a chuckle. Henry caught his breath and looked at me, squinting his one good eye.

“You better be careful,” I said. “With your level of apparent fitness, next time will probably be for real.”

“If it is,” Henry said, “I can only hope I got me an ‘ero like you to step in and save me.”

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

“You wouldn’t save a sick dog, Fritz?”

“Depends on who has the sickness,” I said.

“Brass tacks then, copper. You commin’ after me club? Because if ya are, I ain’t going down without no fight.”

“I’m not interested in your club.”

“So, what do you want? I’m clean. Ya got no business ‘ere.”

“Are one of your ears not working too? You heard what I said, and I’m not going to repeat myself.”

“No need for personal insults,” Henry said. “Because by the way yer bouncing of your back wheel, that’s no position to talk from. You hafta understand, last time I saw you, I spent a year in th’ pound, ‘member mate?”

“Yeah. I ‘member.”

“That tone ain’t gonna be winning you no friends round ‘ere.”

“I’m not on the force anymore,” I said.

“Oooh,” Henry said, looking Nipper over. “I bet that hurts to say. ‘hooo’s this? The silent majority?”

“Well,” Nipper said, “My name is Nipper-”

“He’s my partner,” I said.

“Partner, isn’t he? You don’t say. Knox, Gash, show these bums the door, will ya?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Ernie, appearing through the crowd with half of a pool cue in his mouth. “What’s going on, Henry? These guys are with me.”

“Ernie,” Henry said. “You know this bloke’s a copper, ain’t ya?”

“No he’s not,” Ernie said. “I mean, he ain’t now, anyway.”

“So yer not no bobby, is you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said.

“For the record,” Nipper said, “I’m not one, nor have I ever-”

“Yeah, I can see that now,” Henry said, then turning back to Ernie. “You can vouch for these two, can ya, Ern?”

“Of course, Henry,” Ernie said. “You know me. I wouldn’t bring you any problems.”

“What should we do?” Knox said. Henry was one of these beasts who rumbled a growl as he thought. Knox and Gash were two of those beasts who got nervous when someone was thinking.

“It wouldn’t be hard to tear their brains in,” Gash said.

“Whoa,” Ernie said. “Everyone needs to calm down.”

“I’m just saying,” Gash said. “Look, it’s nothing personal, guys. If that’s the direction Henry wants to take this, if he wants you out, then you’re out. If he wants you gone to where you never come back then, you know, that’s all I mean. But hey, it’s Henry’s call.”

“So?” I said.

“Fine,” Henry said.

“What does fine mean, Henry?” Knox said.

“It means you guys can go back to chasing each others’ tails,” I said.

“It’s been six months since I even thought about chasing a ta-”

“Scram, Knox,” Henry
said, snorting. “You too Gash. Get out of ‘ere. Go patrol the block again.”

The two pit bulls resumed doing what they did best: they took orders from Henry. It made me wonder because those two could’ve ruined Henry without so much as a pant. They could’ve run Henry out of town, took over his club and whatever interests he may have elsewhere, but they were totally content to shut up when he spoke and acted when he directed them.

“The help these days, huh?” I said.

“Ya got somethin’ to say to me then,” Henry said. “Mister used-ta-be-a-copper?”

“You got an office around here?”

“What s
orta joint you think I ‘ave? O’course I got me an office. Follow me. Just you.”

“Don’t look at me,” Ernie said. “I have a game to get back to. You want to watch, Nipper?”

“Umm, no,” Nipper said.

“Okay,” Ernie said. “Suit yourself.”

“Let’s get this over wit’,” Henry said, as he led me away off the club floor. Ernie went in the opposite direction back to his game with a waiting Weimaraner. Nipper stayed put like a lump, smack dab in the center of the club. By the time Henry squeezed his way through the rubber flap marked “Private Office” at the bottom of the back door, no one noticed Nipper standing frozen, afraid to look at anything specific except the ground. I followed Henry through that flap.