The Mad and the Macabre

- 8 -

Charlie suddenly felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest. "What?"

"I heard from one of your neighbors, Darlene Clifton, that you found a Boston terrier about a month ago. I think it's mine."

Before Charlie could lie, Kutter let out a loud bark.

"Hey, I recognize that guy!" said the man on the other end. "I'm right in your area. Mind if I stop over?"

"I'm...heading out."

"I'm literally like a minute from your place. I'm passing Darlene's house right now."

Charlie wasn't sure which one Darlene was. Probably the old lady on the corner. He supposed it didn't matter.

"Okay," he said.

"Great, thanks!"

Charlie hurried into the kitchen and closed the basement door. The soundproofing really wasn't designed for situations where somebody was sitting right in his living room, so he'd just have to pray that the girl didn't regain consciousness while he had a visitor.

What was he going to do? He couldn't let the man take Kutter away.

Maybe he had the wrong dog. Maybe he'd just show up, take one look at Kutter, sigh, and say "That's not my dog. Sorry to have bothered you, sir. Have a pleasant evening."

Or maybe Charlie could just not answer the door. What was the man going to do, break a window and steal Kutter? He couldn't force Charlie to give him up, could he? Charlie wished he'd researched the state law on this matter.

He scooped Kutter up in his arms and let his dog lick his face. "Don't worry," Charlie said, "I won't let him take you away." He held Kutter until he heard the car pull into his driveway, and then he put Kutter in his bedroom and closed the door. A moment later, the doorbell rang. Charlie paced around the living room, trying to figure out what to do, until the doorbell rang again.

The man standing on his front porch looked about thirty. He had slicked-back hair, wore a black leather jacket, and had a phony-looking grin. Charlie disliked him immediately.

"Hey there, Charles," said the man, sticking out his hand. "You go by Chuck?"

"Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie. I'm Byron." When Charlie didn't return his handshake, Byron lowered his arm and shifted uncomfortably. "I know you were on your way out, so I won't take up much of your time. Could I just see if you've got Duke?"

"Okay," said Charlie, stepping out of the way so Byron could come inside. But it wasn't okay. He couldn't just let this irresponsible owner come and claim a dog that he'd left to freeze to death. "How did you lose him?" Charlie asked, shutting the door behind Byron after he entered.

Byron let out a deep sigh. "Kid next door. I've been out of town, so I paid him twenty bucks a day to stop by before and after school to walk and feed Duke. Kid's sixteen years old, you'd think he could handle it, right? Loses Duke the second day. Doesn't call me on my cell. Doesn't tell anybody. I bet he barely even looked. And here's the kicker--the little shit asked me to pay him for those first two days. Can you believe it?"

Charlie didn't respond.

"Anyway, can I see if it's him?"

Charlie wanted to refuse, but how could he? The man knew that he had a dog in the house. If he tried to lie and say that Kutter had just run away moments ago, no doubt the stupid dog would bark again at precisely the wrong moment.

"Okay."

On numb legs, Charlie walked down the hallway toward the bedroom. He opened the bedroom door. Kutter rushed out, nipped at his ankles, and then saw the man crouched down on the living room floor.

"Duke!" Byron joyously exclaimed. "It is you! C'mere, boy!"

Kutter bounded over to Byron and jumped into his arms. Byron stood up, lifting Charlie's dog into the air. "Duke! Aw, I've missed you, boy! I didn't think I was gonna see you again!" Kutter licked the man's face all over while Byron laughed and Charlie just stood there, absolutely stunned.

"Did this guy take good care of you?" Byron asked Kutter. "You look great!" He turned to Charlie. "There's a reward. I'll pay you what I'd planned to pay that dumb-ass kid."

"Please," Charlie said in a quiet voice. "Don't take him."

"Excuse me?"

"Please don't take him."

Byron smiled. "It's easy to get attached to these little guys, isn't it?"

Charlie nodded.

"He's a great dog. Have you ever owned the breed?"

"No."

"I had one before this. Ronnie. Sweetest dog you can imagine. Lived seventeen years. I swore to my parents that I'd walk it, clean up after it, buy the food with my own money if they'd let me get a dog. They made me practice on a goldfish. Fish lived, so they got me a hamster. Dad accidentally kicked the hamster in its plastic ball down the stairs and killed it, and my parents felt so guilty that they got me the dog."

"Please don't take him away from me," Charlie said. He didn't care how he sounded.

"Do you own any other dogs?" Byron asked.

"I've never had a pet."

"Never had any kind of pet? Ever?"

Charlie shook his head.

"That's almost criminal," said Byron. He scratched the top of Kutter's head. "No wonder you don't want to let this guy go."

"I found him in the park under a bench. He was almost dead. I helped him get better."

"I really appreciate that."

"He likes it here."

"He does, huh?" Byron set Kutter down on the living room floor. Charlie crouched down and gestured, and Kutter ran into his arms. "He's definitely a friendly guy," Byron noted.

"I've got toys for him," Charlie said. "And lots of food. Good food. I bought the cheapest food when I first got him, but now I've got the really good kind. And I have bacon treats. I clean up after him when I take him for walks, and I let him sleep on my bed, and I clipped his toenails a couple of days ago, and I play Frisbee with him."

Byron chuckled. "You sound just like me when I was pitching the idea to my parents."

"Please. I don't have any friends. I really like having him here."

Byron's smile faded. "I can't give you my dog, Charlie."

Kutter licked Charlie's nose.

"Just let him stay a little while longer, okay?" Charlie asked. His voice cracked. He couldn't remember it ever having done that.

Byron was quiet for a long moment. "You've really never had a pet?"

"Never."

"You're almost making me cry here, Charlie."

"I'm sorry."

"Mind if I have a seat?"

Charlie shook his head, and Byron sat down on his couch. "You're not making this easy for me, you know. I feel like I'm stealing a puppy away from a little kid."

Byron sat there for a while, lost in thought. Charlie desperately wished that he'd written a script for this kind of thing. He should've guessed that somebody would come for Kutter eventually, and he should've written a foolproof speech to convince the owner to let Charlie keep him.

"Can I at least visit him?" Charlie asked, his upper lip trembling a bit.

"Show me the toys," said Byron.

"What?"

"The toys you bought him. Show them to me."

Charlie walked over to the television stand and picked up the small wicker basket that was on the floor next to it. "He keeps scattering them all around the house," Charlie said, "but I put them here when I clean the place up."

He brought the basket over to Byron. "It's only six. He wrecked two of them. The stuffed ones."

Bryon peered into the basket and nodded his approval. "Nice selection. He likes squeaky things." Byron poked at a rubber dolphin. Kutter's ears perked up at the squeak.

"I'd buy him more," Charlie insisted.

"Well, it's never good to spoil them."

"I'd spoil him anyway."

Byron sighed. "All right, Charlie, here's what we're going to do. Have you seen those movies or TV shows where the kids are fighting over the rightful owner of a dog, and so they do a contest where they both call the dog and see who he comes to first?"

"No."

"Doesn't matter. We'll set Duke in the middle of the room, we'll each take a corner, and we'll both call him. You're clearly deeply attached to the little guy, and if he's just as attached to you, I'll step down as his owner. Sound fair?"

"Yes. Very fair." Charlie was elated. Even if he liked his old home, Kutter wouldn't want Charlie to be left alone, would he?

"Go grab a couple of dog treats," said Byron.

Charlie retrieved two pseudo-bacon strips from the canister on top of the refrigerator and brought them back into the living room.

"Duke loves food a lot more than he loves either of us, that's for sure, so we'll put the treats in the center of the room while we each take a corner."

"Who picks the corner?"

"You have the home field advantage, so I'll pick. I'll stand in the corner by the TV."

Charlie walked over to the opposite corner and crouched down. If Kutter didn't pick him, Charlie was going to start sobbing right in front of this stranger. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe he'd look so pathetic that Byron would give him Kutter anyway.

No. You didn't give great dogs away to pathetic sobbing people. He just had to frantically hope that Kutter would make the right choice.

Byron dropped the bacon strips onto the center of the floor and then gently set Kutter down next to them. He quickly walked to his own corner, and then crouched down as well. "C'mere, Duke!"

"C'mere, Kutter! Here, Kutter!"

"Duke! Come to your Daddy!"

"Kutter! Come to your friend!"

The Boston terrier gobbled up the first bacon strip and immediately started on the second.

"Here, Duke! Here, Duke, Duke, Duke!"

"Here, Kutter! Here, Kutter, Kutter, Kutter!"

Byron clapped his hands. Charlie did the same.

The dog finished up the second bacon strip, sneezed, let out a soft bark, and then ran into Charlie's arms.

"Thank you!" Charlie said as he vigorously petted the dog with both hands. "Thank you, Kutter! You're such a good doggie! Yes, you're such a good doggie!"

Byron stood up. Charlie felt a pang of sympathy for the guy as he dabbed at the corner of his eye with his index finger. "The dog has spoken," he said with a sad smile.

"I'll take good care of him," Charlie promised.

"You'd better. I reserve the right to make surprise inspections. If I don't like what I see, I'll grind your ass up and feed you to him."

"That's fair."

Byron walked over and stuck out his hand. Charlie shook it.

"Congratulations on owning your first pet. Kutter, huh?"

"Yes."

"I actually like that better than Duke."

"Me too."

Byron picked up Kutter and spoke softly to the dog while it licked his face. Charlie felt as if he should leave the room and give them some privacy, but he also didn't want to give Byron a chance to sprint for the exit, so he stayed where he was.

After a couple of minutes, Byron handed Kutter to Charlie. "I guess I'll head off. You were on your way out, right?"

"No. I made that up."

"That's what I figured." He gave the dog one last scratch behind the ears. "Seeya, Kutter."

Charlie let Byron out of the house. He watched through the window as he got into his car and started the engine, not willing to believe that Kutter was truly his until Byron backed out of the driveway and drove out of sight.

Steak. He and Kutter needed a steak to celebrate.

Then he remembered that he still had the girl in his basement.