 
PRINCE

Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2013 by Edward M. Drobinski

All rights reserved.

Special thanks for the inspiration provided by Patti Smith, D.H.Lawrence, David Foster Wallace, George Saunders, Jonathan Franzen and Tinker-Bell.

Note: This book is intended to be for children, many teenagers and young at heart adults.
Chapter 1

He couldn't remember how he got there, but here he was alone, locked inside a tiny frigid metal cage in the dark. He was not aware of having committed any crime, being arrested, read his rights, having proper representation, standing a trial of his peers, being convicted, or sentenced. Rather than thinking of what he wasn't, had he known the word, he could have described his situation in an affirmative manner using the term "railroaded." Scared and bewildered he let out a soft, crying yelp and heard the entreaty come back to him in seven echoes. He could barely make out the other cages or their occupants as the early April, 2012 dawns' first feeble light tried to filter through closed green blinds. But his vision was adequate to be reasonably certain that his fellow inmates were dogs, just like him. More intense scrutiny made it apparent that the others were not exactly just like him. Some were furry. Some had short hair. Some were larger. Some were smaller.

He had a unique coat that was deceptive to some. It appeared skimpy to the untrained eye, but it was thick enough to withstand extended sub-zero temperatures and a less than competent attempt at a bite. Its background was as white as fresh snow and seemed to almost "glow" in the night, making it impossible for him to hide anywhere other than in the bright sunshine. His randomly distributed black spots bore no deference to any other shade or color. They appeared throughout his strong, lean body and graceful, handsome head. He was a proud, one year old Dalmatian.

He was also a proud, one year old Dalmatian in severe trouble. He was a prisoner in a place where he and his fellow inmates were kept devoid of sanitary facilities and his keen sense of smell made him uncomfortably aware of this fact. "Ooooooh boy," he thought. "That tan boxer near me must be having stomach problems." He looked at the culprit, who was lying flat on the base of his cage, head on his front paws and eyes impassively open, but seemingly far away, perhaps in a happier time. The placement of the cages got his attention. All the others he could see were right next to and touching each other, but his was separated from the rest by a few feet. He concluded that whoever placed the cages, either considered him special or an outcast. Deciding that the latter was a more likely possibility, he thought; "So, they want to keep me away from everyone else. Do they? We'll see about that!" He analyzed his cage door. He saw that what kept it closed was a silver metal catch, operated by a spring, accessed from the outside. He thought; "If I could just lift that thing a little." He partially put his right paw through the cage wire and his long, hard claws were able to hook into the locking mechanism. "Just one strong pull and I'm out of here."

A noise at the front door got his attention and he curtailed his locksmith imitation. He heard metal rubbing on metal, a screech and with a whoomph the door flew open. In walked two busily chatting, female humans. One of them pointed at him and said to the other, trailing woman; "That's the one we got in last night. He's been trained to fight, so we keep him away from the others."

The middle-aged, minimally overweight, talking woman proceeded to a plastic laminated, faux wood-grained desk and dropped her bag and dirty pale orange quilted jacket. The other, a thin, smiling, older woman walked directly toward his cage and stopped a foot shy. She put her hands on her knees, leaned a bit forward, pushed her dangling, long gray, hair back, looked right at him and said in a childish voice; "Is this the new little terror?" He knew she was speaking to him, but he heard; "Izzutilror," a word not yet in his vocabulary. He looked up at her kind face, opened his eyes widely and excitedly put his front paws up on the front of the cage and wagged his tail wildly.

Her companion, who was now opening wall cabinets behind the desk in order to retrieve dog food, answered; "Be careful, Marian. He's strong, full of Dalmatian energy and he knows how to kill. He's going to be a hard one to place."

Marian walked away from him, pulled a cord downward and the blinds attached to the huge, east facing, picture window magically rose, allowing a full blast of pure sunshine to stream through the single room occupancy dungeon. It was as if spring had suddenly come to a desolate, cruel island. She walked back to his lonely prison and kept her eyes on the spotted dog, while she said; "Debby, are you sure he's pure Dalmatian? It looks to me like he's got some Lab in him. Look at the shape of his head. Dalmatians are more severely tapered."

He thought; "Cut the chatter and get me out of here!"

While she poured dry food into plastic dishes, Debby said; "That's what the people who brought him in last night said. I don't really know."

Marian took a double-length chain leash from her light blue, quilted jacket pocket and chirped; "I'm going to take him for a walk."

He understood "walk" well enough and anxiously pawed at the closed door, while standing on his hind legs.

Debby liltingly replied; "I don't think that's a good idea."

Marian said; "That's ridiculous. He can't sit in there forever." She reached for the latch and asked; "What's his name?"

Debby shrugged and sarcastically said; "Killer."

Marian looked down at the anxious, tail wagging puppy and said; "I think I see the outline of a crown in the pattern of some of his spots. I'm going to call him Prince."

Prince still didn't know what all the conversation was about and his stomach was gurgling. "Please, please open the door before we're both sorry."

Debby said; "Okay, take him at your own peril. Just let me give him some food before you leave. At least this way he won't be desperate to take off after any edible prey."

Marian opened the latch and attached the double length chain to his deep blue, leather collar. Debby put a dish full of lamb and vegetables on the floor near him. He was torn between his conflicting needs to escape, eat and relieve himself. He chose eating and wolfed down the contents of the bowl, then instinctively ran to the closest door. Marian had to take five long, quick steps to keep up, her right leash hand stretched to the maximum. She hoped it remained in its socket.

She stood with him at the door and reached down to pat his head, getting his attention. He looked up with big brown eyes, as if to say; "What's wrong now?"

Marian touched his nose and said; "Prince." He kept looking and she repeated the procedure. He liked the sound. She opened the door and he bolted out of it, stopping near a close-by cottonwood tree, squatted and thought; "Whew, just made it."

Now that he had eaten, answered nature's call and was substantially free, Prince stood still and gazed at his new world. Marian began a steadily paced walk after he was through with his "business," and as a result, Prince had to curtail his visual, wide ranging inspection of the great outdoors. To avoid being unpleasantly yanked by the collar, he bounded to get at Marian's side, happy to be here with her. He raised his head and saw her hazel eyes concentrating not on him, but focused diligently on the road ahead. His feelings were momentarily hurt, but he acknowledged that pragmatism had its place on a road with no shortage of obstacles. He didn't realize that he was ahead of many humans in this regard.

They were on a thin dirt path in well-mowed grass, just beginning to display its first signs of seasonal greening. At times he was on the tiny trail created by other canine escapees from the "Corrales Humane Shelter," and at times she was. In a very short time they reached a wider dirt path bordering a ditch, which contained slow moving, muddy water and they made a right turn. Prince desperately needed a drink and started to descend the bank. Marian remained on the higher ground, but stopped to allow him his requirement. He drank heartily, with his front paws in the edge mire and entertained the notion of getting totally soaked, but decided not to, at least not yet, only a few minutes since walk commencement. He glanced at the sun's position, still so close to the eastern horizon and thought; "There's still a long day ahead of me."

He knew that he would have to shake off any water that was retained by his thick coat and might get some on her. The sunny April morning was warm enough for him to get wet, but Marian still needed a jacket and probably would not appreciate moisture on her unprotected face or blue denim pants. Warmer weather would steadily be coming and Prince didn't want to risk offending his companion before the heat's arrival.

He tried to elevate, but quickly discovered that the bank was steeper than his thirsty, non-inspection first indicated. It was easy to go down, but impossible to get back up. He tried a few times, each one resulting in a quick slide back down. With wide, worried eyes he looked up at Marian. She was watching his antics and also keeping an eye out for other dog-walkers. She was concerned that the little trained fighter might attack an unsuspecting human or canine approach. She tried to lead him away from his successful point of descent to a successful point of ascent, but he stubbornly stayed there and kept trying, despite messy failure after messy failure. After he was exhausted and hopeless, he followed her lead and soon came to a spot where the bank was more graduated. He easily climbed up and felt enormously relieved. He looked up at her face as she kindly laughed at him. As smart a dog as he thought he was, in a matter of minutes Marian, without speaking had gently taught him two big lessons. The first was; "Trust your companion." And the second bit of previously unknown wisdom was that; "You don't have to come up the same way you go down."

They continued walking and Prince stayed on the path for the most part, but made frequent short excursions into the brush when his nostrils detected something of interest. Marian was glad to accommodate his willfulness as long as he went slowly when off the beaten path, as she could easily trip over unseen hazards hidden in the tall, dense foliage. He had a tremendous advantage over her in this regard, as if he stumbled on one paw, he could easily remain erect on the other three. On the other hand, if Marian lost the full use of one leg, it would be quite a task to remain standing and moving on one. It would be akin to hopping on a pogo stick, which could be hilarious fun when done privately at home, but not something one necessarily wanted to display to the whole outside world. She led him across a rusting iron bridge, which held the last vestiges of red paint, traversing the water and she tried to lead him back in the direction from which they had come. He didn't want to go back to the shelter and he sat down, showing passive resistance. He looked at her face, currently encircled by the sun's glow behind her, shook his head negatively and if he could speak, would have said; "No. No. No!"

She wasn't certain of a plan of action, as other dogs she had walked had already received some degree of training and would not display an out and out refusal to obey. She tugged at his chain and managed to move his neck. He made a low growl. She nervously looked at her wristwatch and it told her that she had no more than ten minutes to get Prince moving in her direction, or she would face the likelihood of being late for work. This was not a gigantic obstacle to most, but she was a college professor and the class would leave in her absence, effectively transforming a few minute's piece of tardiness to an hour's worth. Worse, she could envision a command performance before the wrinkled, paper encrusted, financially oriented Dean. After assuring the tight lipped smiling, affable "Dean Concern" that she was indeed quite all right, she would be required to sit through a generalistic dissertation on the morality of being a responsible, timely citizen, while she forfeited her lunch hour for the vast enlightenment. Assuming she managed not to regurgitate the lunch she had not eaten on "Dean Pedantic's" busy, but neatly and properly arranged desk, she would be then benefitted by hearing the "secret" of how some parents and students might make the case that their tuitions should be reduced because of no-show professors. The tedious show would continue until she penitently showed concern, indicated unfortunate agreement, sympathized with and prattled understanding of his delicate, difficult position, promised to no longer sin, genuflected thankfulness for "Dean Dullard's" precious time and his kind consideration and was grateful and appreciative for the "New" wisdom she had just gleaned for the third time this semester.

"Yuck!!! And all this just because this little monstrous ingrate would not move in her direction," she thought.

She again tugged at his chain and Prince looked at her with a hint of indignation in his expression, as if to say; "You've got to be kidding." Marian stared at him and showed that she was annoyed by shrugging her entire body and lightly stamping her foot. Resigning herself to a command performance before the Dean, which she decided had humorous potential, especially if she finished his predictable sentences for him, she sat down on the ground next to proud and willful Prince, saying; "Maybe you have the right idea." The two viewed the dirty ditch water, which ran slowly and made the only sound audible to them, as it tumbled over the bed's rocky obstacles, happily gurgling, either in defiance of or amusement with the tiny, unsuccessful road blocks. The stream knew it was on its way somewhere unknown to it and couldn't be stopped.

When his mind tired of the persistent, habitual water flow, Prince turned to Marian and was confused. She was still eyeing the stream with a dreamy, contented and subdued expression. He was accustomed to humans pulling him around and using sticks to get him to do their bidding. His response to that type of treatment required no brainwork on his part. Instinctively, he deferred to the biggest stick, not seeing any choice in the matter. But, once out of harm's way, he would do his best to thwart whatever wishes the stick-holders displayed. He convinced some of his fellow gladiators to work as a team. One would create a diversion, like pretending to be after a mouse inside the house. When the guard investigated, Prince and the others would supplement their rations, with refrigerated people food and no one would know the better. Unless his friend Ramon was on duty, when no one was watching he'd do his business on the kitchen floor. All his brother jail-mates had access to the kitchen, so nobody could be sure of the culprit and no one would dare hurt any of the dogs because they were worth money. This was the dim, green paper; "guiding light" which dictated the ugly lives of the sweating, three day unshaven, bald-headed men who thought that they owned him and his fellow sufferers. Prince would watch and secretly laugh as one of his low-ranking captors performed his clean-up job, often gagging in the process. Prince was proud to be a stink-making subversive. But, none of that seemed to apply this morning. Her tugs were gentle and now she seemed to be almost deferring to his wishes.

He looked into her eyes, getting her attention back from the turbulent ditch. She sighed and he thought he detected a note of worry. He stood up, rubbed his face against her cheek and took a step back toward the dreaded shelter. Marian eyed him curiously, stood up, rubbed his head and followed him back where she wanted to take him.

After covering half the distance, straight down the clear, even path, she said; "You are a strange puppy." He didn't know what she had said, but correctly assumed she was talking to him. He couldn't quite put a paw on the tone of her voice, but was somewhat concerned that it might contain a bit of misplaced misunderstanding. Prince turned his head back toward her, furrowed his brow and squinted his eyes as if to say; "I don't understand. Isn't this what you wanted me to do?"

Marian stopped, reached down and ran her free hand along his back, still home to a bit of drying mud, simultaneously saying; "But a very special, nice one."

They continued on their short journey, along the dirt path, over an unpainted, iron bridge spanning the water and through the tiny trail in the burgeoning grass, to the black painted, metallically ominous with an unchangeable appearance, chilly shelter back door. Prince stopped and looked up at Marian. His eyes widened. He looked at her imploringly and sighed, as if to one last time say; "Do we have to?"

She blinked her eyes, understood perfectly and slowly shook her head, saying; "Yes, we have to. I'm sorry."

Prince turned his head back to the still closed door. He rubbed his nose against the stone-dead way out and thought; "I'm going to throw a major fit if they try to put me back in that cage." She opened the door and they strolled in together.

Debby was retrieving the now empty food dishes from the cages of the seven other resident canines, several standing, leaning against the bars, anxious for at least a brief trip outside. Marian unhooked Prince's leash and he ran straight to Debby. She was frightened at the aggression, dropped the plastic dishes she was holding and put her hands in the air, saying; "Get him. Get him."

Marian said; "Don't worry. He won't hurt you."

Debby took a hard look at the cheery Dalmatian, with his head up, tongue out and tail wagging. She gingerly moved her right hand to him and cautiously patted his head twice. Prince walked back to Marian hoping for something that didn't feel perfunctory. She obliged with a vigorous cuddle, her arms around his neck.

Debby shook her head negatively and matter-of-factly said; "You know, the rotten thing is that with this lousy economy and budget cuts, sometimes I think the animals would be a lot happier out on their own. There used to be three full-time employees here and now it's just me. I'm completely dependent on volunteers like you to keep my head above water. The volunteers are coming in less and less, because they have to spend more time trying to stay afloat in this mess. And to top it off, the people at State tell me that I should feel lucky that they still pay the rent on this palace." She sarcastically laughed and added; "I think the only reason they do that is because the owner of this otherwise near vacant strip mall knows where to make the right kind of 'contributions.' It's a big pile of dog doo."

Marian said; "They're going to make you a saint someday."

"Yeah, after me and all the animals are dead. Isn't that how it works?"

Marian again put her arms around Prince's neck and squeezed. She solemnly said; "I've got no answers and nobody responds to the questions ......... Except Prince. He can be difficult, but he seems co-operative. He did the weirdest thing while we were out. He didn't want to come back here, but when I stopped trying to force him to, he did."

"He knows where he gets fed."

Marian laughed and said; "Oh, Debby. Why do you keep trying to sound like a cynic? Everyone knows you have a heart of gold." She turned to leave.

Debby called out; "Hey, aren't you going to get that dog back in his cage?"

"He'll be all right out with you."

"Maybe. But, someone might see him out of his cage and inform the State. Then I'll get a sermon on potential liability and threatened with more budget cuts."

Prince was quickly coming to understand one word humans seemed pre-occupied with; CAGE. He knew he was in serious trouble. Marian had taken a few steps toward the door and he tried to join her impending escape.

She hooked three fingers in his deep blue leather collar and curtly said; "No, no, no." She pulled in the direction of his cage.

Prince didn't understand why she seemed to have changed tone. He growled and she pulled again. Hurt and stubborn, he growled again, thinking; "You know, I can bite you if I want to." He defiantly sat on the floor. She immediately recalled what happened during their brief walk and sat on the floor next to him and looked out the picture window at the few shoppers and cars attending other mall space renters. Prince wasn't the least bit interested in this scenery. The water, dirt and near-budding trees he delighted in when outside in the awe inspiring sun exceeded his aesthetic opinion of concrete, asphalt and tin. Instead he looked into Marian's kind, sad eyes and thought that he was making her unhappy. He elevated and she pushed her head into his. She, too, rose and accompanied him back to his solitary confinement cell. He walked in and she secured the gate behind him.

She got on her knees, looked into his despondent searching eyes and said; "Thank you, Prince. I'll try to come back tomorrow."

He did the slightest of wiggling shrugs and continued his joyless gaze. He was thinking; "Why?" which she sensed.

In a very low voice Marian sincerely said; "I don't know any answers."

Prince's eyes fixed on her as she got up and walked out the door. Debby's incredulous eyes looked at both of them and her mind went blank.
Chapter 2

Ten year old Polly Thatcher woke to the sharp, consistent clanging of her antique Art Nouveau alarm clock. It was her favorite possession when it wasn't calling demanding attention to itself, like now, first thing in the morning. Its oval, ivory face was surrounded by painted bronze figures of a woman reclining on an open French daybed to its left and an alert, large dog, sitting on his haunches to its right. The sturdy, unpainted bronze base appeared as if it were capable of supporting many more tiny figures than it currently held. Eyes still full of sleep, Polly reached out to push in the tiny button that would cease the insistent call.

Her clumsy grope in the dark was customarily imprecise, but the clock's weight prevented any possible destructive "accident," maintaining its proper position on the hosting small, mahogany, inlaid writing table, while affording her a wide margin for error. Polly hoped she had extinguished the cry before her mother heard it and prompted her to get out of bed. Despite daily desperate attempts to stifle the rude bells, she correctly suspected that her mother, Lily had alternate means with which to end her pleasant dreams. Mom was always so nauseatingly cheerful when she entered the room on schooldays in order to get her out of the house as quickly as possible, or so it seemed obvious to Polly.

She re-positioned herself under the covers of her plushy queen sized bed, pulled the light blue blanket over her head and prayed that the inevitable would not happen. A miracle was required as Polly had gone through this same procedure hundreds of prior mornings and no act of God had yet curtailed her mother's diligent efforts to get her out of bed and quickly off to fifth grade class hosted by sizeable, matronly Ms. Dermer. Probably because the other kids researched the matter beforehand, and took the prime back seats Polly was relegated to a seat at front row, center and consequently was subjected to wafts of industrial strength bleach and paint stripper the teacher, presumably sprinkled her body, clothing, or both with every morning. Polly wished that the flabby and flapping armed Ms. would at least sit still, thereby creating no wind.

She felt a few tugs at her leg and then her protective cover was raucously drawn away, leaving her fully exposed in her pink, Tinker-Bell jammies. Accompanying another bout of leg pulls she was verbally assaulted by what seemed a falsely hurried female voice, which said; "Come on. Come on. Do we have to go through this every day?"

Polly rubbed the back of both hands against her blue eyes, forced a yawn and mumbled; "Good morning, Mom. And no, we don't have to go through this every day. All you have to do is find something else to occupy your time in the mornings."

Mom was typically fully dressed, this morning in a mall purchased, light brown, long sleeved blouse, buttoned to the top and a white pleated skirt, ready to dash off to her job. She pulled both of Polly's legs off the bed and put slippers on her bare feet. She said; "You're such a smart little girl," then sarcastically added; "That's why Mrs. Dermer gives you all those C+'s."

Polly had already figured out a few things about the way the world worked. She fully expected to go to college, in which case her grammar school grades didn't matter in the least. She would conserve her energy for high school. She stuck out her tongue at her mother, who laughed and imitated the gesture. Both were making a sound something like a rumbling "thphlfff" when Adam, her Dad entered the room and stoically stared at the two brilliant conversationalists.

Polly and Mom got quiet and with a certain degree of embarrassment looked at the man judiciously standing there in his off-the-rack, Brooks Brother's, pinstriped suit. He said; "That's what I say to the whole thing; thphflfff, thphflfff and more thphflfff," his tongue extended in the most undignified manner he ever showed to Polly. "See you tonight. I'm late already." He glanced at his wristwatch as he left.

Mom took Polly's hand and led her to the "light and airy" kitchen, the little girl breaking into a trot to keep pace. Polly said; "Why is everybody in such a rush to do something they don't feel like doing?"

Mom said; "What makes you think that I don't feel like spending my day arranging appointments for a crabby, old dentist? That's precisely why I spent eighteen years in school."

"Why don't you get a job like Dad and manage other people?"

Mom kissed her inquisitor on the forehead and said; "Hopefully you won't have to find out."

Polly looked at her Mom curiously and after a short lull, said; "And, by the way. That's Ms. Dermer. She'd be mad if you said she was married.

Mom said; "Sure," and placed a bowl of Cheerios and milk on the sleek, wheat-yellow, composite table where Polly had taken a seat on one of the unusual, black plastic, innovatively shaped chairs. The small woman rested her arms, felt the cold and recoiled. She put her hands to her head and pushed back her long dirty blond hair, surveying the offering.

Mom said; "Well?"

Polly grimaced, searched for words and came up with; "I get this every day."

Mom chuckled and replied; "You expect variety?"

"Yeah, some."

Mom shrugged, wishing she had some herself. She pictured Dr. Borkowsky's pathetically grinning face that he seemed compelled to regularly situate a foot from hers, as if she were a patient undergoing a root canal. She said; "Suit yourself. Do you want to go to school on an empty stomach?"

Polly was relieved that she didn't have to endure the soppy, almost cold bowl of neither here nor there. Enthused she made a chirpy reply, saying; "First of all, you should know by now that I don't want to go to school. And secondly, if I have to go on an empty stomach, at least I won't have anything to puke when I get a whiff of Ms. Dermer."

"Then, go get dressed." Polly went back to her bedroom and put on an orange pullover top and a paisley skirt. She then dawdled as she brushed her hair, admiring her cute face and trim figure in the large mirror above her Arts and Crafts, unstained oak bureau. Mom waited in the kitchen and her mind briefly wandered off to what kind of a future her little girl was expecting. The vague thoughts she had scared her, but she was able to console herself when she was reminded of how much time would elapse before Polly would get the adult dosage.

Polly covered herself with a light brown, quilted jacket which reached her knees and returned to the kitchen. As she zipped up, she noticed Mom seemed to be somewhere else. She rudely startled her back to the reality of today, by energetically saying; "Ready?"

Mom's head made the least bit of a quiver. She whispered; "As ever," put her left arm over her baby's shoulder and they walked intertwined to the car. The recent model black Saab was waiting in the driveway of their two story, deep brown stucco, Southwestern styled hacienda. The parapets standing above the flat, tar and gravel roof seemed to be making an aborted attempt to greet the morning sun, apparently stymied two feet into their overly optimistic mission. They settled back, thankful not to lose ground and sink beneath the roof line into the adobe walls. They were fortunate to have this sturdy support as the Thatcher's was the oldest house on Camino De Lucia, built traditionally. The rest of the newer development was constructed with two by four framing, utilized to cost consciously mimic their adobe ancestors. No one can tell the difference under a half inch stucco overlay and residents of the fifty house subdivision were proud to have the proper classical appearance, self-imposed blindly contented to ignore hidden reality. What the neighbors were not thrilled with was the eight sided cupola sitting on the Thatcher roof, above everything. Not only was it a violation of the local unenforced zoning statutes, it desecrated the burghers sense of propriety. To "unknowingly" and overtly broadcast their disdain for local social customs the Thatcher's installed a replica of the cracked liberty bell from its ceiling which in gale force winds would rock the clapper and sound the call. Not understanding to what the call was made was particularly distressing to the neighbors. Mom and Dad would laugh thinking; "If you don't know I can't tell 'ya."

As they exited the crusher fine gravel driveway, to the tune of "Wizard of Oz," Mom sang; "We're off to see the Dermers and the wonderful Borkowskys of ours." They simultaneously screamed; "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

The rest of Prince's day was about as interesting as one might expect for a dog in a two foot cage. Debby got everyone except him out for a brief "walk," and cleaned up after the main events. Prince had to hold it as she was not certain of his feisty attitude. At 3PM he had all he could bear and put his paws up on the cage wire, whined loudly and rattled the cage, succeeding in moving it a few inches. The other dogs watched him, wondering if he was taking the brightest approach. The expressions on their faces suggested that he was not. Their eyes alternated between him and Debby, who was sitting at her desk filling out reports that would eventually be scrutinized at State level. If she passed the test she was relatively assured that her inadequate funding would not be reduced by much.

Debby was torn between the need for money, the needs of an unfortunate dog and her fear of that same dog. After having no luck telling Prince to be still a few times, she decided that the reason she started doing this type of work many years ago was to take care of the unfortunate abandoned dogs. She rose from her seat, took a hard look at Prince and with great trepidation went for her leash.

Prince sized up his situation. He didn't manage to survive a whole year by being a dummy. He knew that he could probably intimidate Debby and make a break for it. However, he didn't know where he was or what he might run into out there. He also liked having food available. As much as he hated the confinement, his first priority had to be nourishment.

After the tinkering with the cage door he had started last night he was reasonably certain that he could get the door open and get his exercise all night. If he was wrong about that he could always bolt the next time Debby took him out.

He could easily tolerate a few more days here, during which time he could find out if the nice lady with the gray hair would take him home. This was the best possibility of all and a mad dash now would eliminate any chance of that happening.

His plan of action seemed obvious to him. Listen to Debby!

She reached his door, ominous black leather leash in hand and a wary look on her round face. He remained motionless as she nervously attached the leash to his collar. She opened it and Prince walked out calmly, not wanting to startle her. She seemed ready to jump back at the slightest provocation, so he gave her none. Debby was as surprised as she could be and wondered what this dog could possibly be thinking. They went out the back door and Prince sighed with relief as he lifted his left leg by the cottonwood tree. He took a long look at the area, seeing that he was on flat land near some large houses and right next to a paved area with cars attendant to the strip mall. He recalled the paths and water from his walk with Marian, but could not see them now.

Debby saw Prince being enamored of the area and knew that this would be the critical point; trying to get him back inside and into his cage when his interests lied elsewhere. She firmly said; "Ready, big guy." Prince would have appreciated another few minutes outside, but stuck to his well thought out plan and acquiesced to her light tug. As he moved toward the door, he looked up at Debby and tried to say; "See, I'm a good boy."

Debby correctly understood the unspoken communication. When they arrived at the door she reached down and petted him. He arched his back and stretched. They went back in the facility and Prince went right to his cage. Debby disconnected the leather leash and he walked in willingly. She was again surprised, as she expected this would be near impossible only a few minutes ago. She watched him a few moments, with a questioning look on her face. Prince was now the surprised one, as he had anticipated that she would understand what was in their mutual self-interest. He thought; "She either doesn't think too well, or she thinks that I'm incredibly stupid." He focused on the possibility that he had just been insulted, turned his back and laid down facing away from Debby. She blinked a few times and finally murmured; "You are the strangest puppy." Feeling almost at peace with the world he dozed off.

The arena had a dusty, dirt floor and a five foot solid wooden fence around it, giving off the stench of death. The graying unfinished boards were horizontally nailed into six foot posts at eight foot intervals and were firmly sunk into cement poured below ground level, ages ago. Above that was planked seating, twenty rows high, currently occupied by laughing men, holding beer cans and an occasional cigar. He ran to an edge and his white body attempted to scale the wall. He leaped, in an attempt to reach the higher echelon without any assistance. The men in the stands found that humorous, which he couldn't comprehend. Many pointed at him, simultaneously nudging their nearest companion, dog fighting fan and increased their level of loud merriment. He looked up at the bloodthirsty crew and mistakenly tried to ask for their help, widely opening his limpid, brown eyes.

One yelled out; "You gonna die, stupid."

Others found that "wisdom" the height of hilarity and for them it probably was both.

He didn't understand the words, but correctly surmised that he was in some kind of serious trouble and was not going to get any help from the smelly, sweating men, who seemed to be enjoying his demise. He was as frightened as a swimmer in the rapids approaching a rocky waterfall, but proudly decided not to give the cruel, cowardly watchers the satisfaction of showing them that.

He walked to the middle of the arena, as loudspeakers blasted out Eminem rapping "Lose Yourself." Boompah, boompah, boompah, boompah filled his ears, getting louder with each beat, overtaking his awareness of the cutthroat useless crowd. A door opened and a huge German shepherd strutted out. The door closed behind him and the crowd cheered and yelled encouragement to which he was now deaf.

"Get him, Assassin."

"Easy prey tonight."

"Dinner time, big boy."

"Kill, Assassin. Kill him."

Assassin seemed extremely sure of himself and paraded around the perimeter of the arena, slowly nodding his head to, what he must have thought were his admiring fans. At 100 pounds he was about four times the size of the white puppy, who was now fully alert, watching the self-confident dog delight his ravenous onlookers. The drumbeat went up another notch.

Suddenly Assassin charged, knocked over "Little White," and kept going, back to the perimeter, where he opened himself to more accolades. Little White righted himself and was now 100% sure of what he had formerly only strongly suspected. Assassin charged again, accomplishing the same thing and again strutted away expecting to receive his applause. However, this time his safely distanced, murderous, base patrons displayed impatience for the impending bloodletting.

"Come on."

"Make him bleed."

"Show me something."

"Do it."

Assassin moved purposefully toward the much smaller puppy, who had again gotten up and faced him squarely. Little White only saw Assassin's steely eyes and only heard a cacophony of drums.

Assassin charged, again taking Little White off his feet, but this time got on top of him, pinning his body to the dirt ground. He looked up at his admirers, who were out of their seats, screaming; "Kill." He savored the admiration a moment too long, as Little White summoned up all the strength he had and sunk his teeth into Assassin's exposed neck and bit down as if he was trying to snap a rubber bone in one protracted shot. Assassin tried to shake him off, but got nowhere. He lifted Little White off the ground, but couldn't break his grip. He tried to make a bite of his own, but found he had no angle with which to do so. He frantically shook and as a result, tired himself. He began to have difficulty drawing a breath.

Assassin fell on his side, got still and looked up at his former admirers, who were now cheering for the new champion, when the lights went out. Little White was now red with dripping blood, with his teeth still holding vice-like to an unmoving, fallen Assassin's neck.

Five men ran from the door and over to the former action, now more of a still life. They tried to lift Little White off the dead shepherd, but he still wouldn't let go. The crowd was crazy with shouts of exhilaration, whistles and laughter. Little White saw and heard them for the first time since he had walked to center ring. He realized that the limp body he was holding onto was no longer a threat and let it go. He stood next to the dead dog, dripping blood from his mouth onto his already saturated body. The five men were cautiously stroking him, wild with excitement, a mirror reflection of the crowd. While Little White was proud of himself for having won, glad that he was still alive and uninjured and liked the admiration, when he scanned the contorted faces of the blood-loving men, for the first time he knew the meaning of disgust. One came over with a running hose and turned it on him. "Some prize for winning," he thought for a second, but he then looked at the motionless carcass of Assassin and decided that the pitiful "prize" was preferable to losing. The hose slowly did its work and the blood streamed away from him, forming pink puddles and then was swallowed by the hungry dirt.

The celebrating men kept smiling obscenely at him, babbling some jubilant sounding words that meant nothing to him. After the blood was almost completely off of him, one of the men pointed at him and said; "Look. Look. He's no Little White. He's got spots!" For the first time in his short life two irregular, roundish, black spots appeared on his left side. Another celebrating man said; "He's a Dalmatian."

With open disdain, he shook off the water that covered his body, doing his best to spray the nearby revelers. He turned his head around and got his first view of what excited the men. His first thought was that he may have not been properly cleaned and didn't like the dark "imperfections." He rubbed up against the pant leg of one of the men trying to get the stains off, without success. He openly sighed and sat silently resigned on his haunches, allowing the men to congratulate him by furiously petting his head and body. He did his best not to gag on the residue of blood he could still taste, remained perfectly still, aloof and openly disdainful, though the men equated his posture with pride. He thought; "I've got to get out of here."

Prince's trembling and sweating body jarred awake in his solitary confinement. It was again dark and Debby was gone. He looked around to get his bearings and saw the other dogs looking in his direction, perhaps thinking that he had some type of seizure. He wished that he would never have that dream again, but that was an old wish and he had no control over the results. He decided that the best thing to do was to keep moving and the possibilities for that were extremely limited in the confines of his cage. He put his right paw partially through the wire and hooked his strong claws in the locking mechanism. Cognizant of his attentive audience, he pulled upward and pushed outward with his body. The door swung open and he went out with it, bolting and coming to an abrupt stop to avoid reeling across the room. He surprised himself with the ease with which the task was performed and feeling somewhat startled and silly he saw fourteen canine eyes staring wide-eyed at him. Prince had no plan of what came next, but with the scrutiny he was experiencing, he decided to act as if he knew what he was doing. He tried his luck at the other cage doors and was pleasantly surprised to find out that they all worked exactly the same way. Soon, he was surrounded by seven dogs, gazing at him as if he were magical.

He didn't enjoy being the center of attention, but it seemed to be his destiny. He always wondered why everyone always watched his antics, when he thought that they would be better served doing antics of their own. He had spent his share of time in the center ring and found it lacking. He felt self-conscious and it seemed that his newly free companions expected him to perform and entertain. Prince didn't think he could do anything that other dogs couldn't, if they would only try. He had a second thought about his present company. Who knows how long they have been restricted and caged? What happened to them when they made early attempts at being themselves? If they have had a lifetime of bad experiences with being openly playful, what could he reasonably expect from them now? Maybe they thought that any second the door would swing open and in would come Nazis with whips. Perhaps, in some weird way he had been fortunate to have beaten Assassin so early in life, as it probably resulted in privileges not shared by the multitudes. Who was he to reject the things others craved? Maybe they didn't know that to attain their lofty goals all they had to do was become a competent fighter. Yet, he didn't wish to fight himself. He was put in a circumstance where he had to and did his best to get out of the predicament as soon as he could. Maybe these were the fortunate ones, but look at their sad eyes. Prince was still a puppy and he was very confused.

He sadly surveyed the dogs watching him. A beautiful female collie was unsure and seemed ready to cringe and cower any minute. A timid male boxer physically appeared to be able to take on the world, but his alert eyes were not a sign of excitement. Rather, he was prepared to run imminently if something bad happened momentarily. A tiny female pug's eyes darted around the room, warily noticing that everyone there was much larger than she was, no doubt the result of having been hurt numerous times by big things. Prince considered her bravery superior to his own for having come this far. They won his heart and he concluded that no matter how much he felt silly and unsure, the powers that be dictated that he owed it to the others to show them what they wanted to see; rights they could safely share. He solemnly thought; "Somebody I don't know decided that it was up to me."

With a little woof and a nod of the head, Prince ran across the room and leaped onto Debby's desk. The large dogs immediately followed his example and the smaller ones were smart enough to get there in two steps, first utilizing Debby's chair as a springboard. Prince looked at the seven happy faces near him. Tongues were out and they were looking at each other, rather than him and they seemed to be astonished while thinking; "We did it!!!" He was sure he detected the return of some confidence. He jumped back to the floor and the others again followed, some very cautiously putting their paws at the desk side, heads over the edge, in order to get as close to their destination as possible, before taking the final leap. All were successful and the group spent much of the night frolicking, sometimes looking to Prince for a lead, but more and more often, as the night wore on, they looked to each other and some seemed to feel totally secure in going their own way. Eventually, Prince attained his own wish of becoming a spectator, happily watching the athletic and silly things his new friends could do.

After hours of active play and periods of bench sitting, Prince's senses told him that they were nearing sunrise and the return of Debby. He thought that if she came back and saw all the dogs running loose that she might get better locks. So, he barked to his exuberant, newly liberated friends and when he had their attention he went back into his cage and closed the door behind him. The others looked askance at him, displaying both annoyance and a lack of understanding. Prince barked more loudly and shook his head violently. The others slowly followed his example, but, he could tell from their expressions, that they didn't understand why. They did not yet understand that, unfortunately, freedom is temporarily clandestine.

At 3:30PM Polly waited in front of the single story faux brick grammar school located in the middle of town. The yellow-white façade seemed to radiate the heat generated by a sun a bit past it's prime, but unhindered by clouds. She wished her mother's car would arrive soon, as she was alone and didn't want to exaggerate the risk of getting stuck with Ms. Dermer's overbearing company. The teacher was still in the building, either preparing the next day's boredom or freshening up her formaldehyde perfume and might any second exit the front door and join her young pupil in waiting for a ride. Polly had never seen the pickup, but was certain that it was a refugee from a Stephen King movie driving a hearse. She anxiously tapped her feet on the sidewalk bordering the semi-circular driveway and thought; "Come on lady. You're always rushing me to be on time. Have a little courtesy."

Polly stiffened when she heard the metal pneumatic door whoosh open and tried to pretend that she didn't notice it. In her mind she tried to conjure up something cordial and innocuous to regurgitate if necessary. She remained braced for the obligatory pleasantries, trying to keep in mind that her sentence would be over in only two months.

Instead of Ms. Dermer, she was joined by a skinny boy, who was more interested in pushing the keys on the rectangular cell phone he carried in his left hand, precariously balanced on a few books. He was pre-occupied with his balancing act and the simultaneous texting of a message to someone. He didn't notice Polly's presence until he was two feet from her, when his surprise caused him to clumsily drop his books on her feet, but managed to hold onto his cell phone, after juggling it for a second.

Polly said; "Hey. Watch it."

The boy stooped to retrieve his books and replied; "Sorry." He paused a bit and then with an indignant tone added; "Nobody's supposed to be standing here now."

She eyed his nerdy blue windbreaker and short black hair that seemed to go in every direction and decided to answer politely, saying; "I know. My mother is late."

He scrutinized her and said; "You're in Dermer's class, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

He mouthed the words; "Ha ha," and made a contemptuous smile."

Polly was now annoyed. She considered his statement as one which adds insult to injury and unforgivingly re-considered his previous commentary about where she should be standing. She said; "Listen, nerd-head. I'll stand anywhere I choose and you better not bother me. What are you doing with that stupid piece of plastic anyway?"

"I'm texting messages to guys that say, 'I'm hot for you baby. Please call.' It drives 'em crazy." He laughed and so did she.

"Can't they tell that the message comes from your phone?"

"No. I found a way to get around that. It's probably too difficult for you to understand, though."

Polly again felt insulted and said; "Sure it isn't a Palm Pilot that you need? You really are a giant nerd, aren't you?"  
"Yeah, I guess. But, I get a lot of laughs, picturing these guys excitedly calling every girl they know, asking them if they had just texted him and trying to recall girls they didn't know all that well. They probably waste the whole night as a result of about a minute of my time." He again laughed, but she didn't. He added; "Where's your cell phone?"

"I don't want one. It's like a bell on a cat."

"Family can't afford it, huh?"

"Yes, my family can afford it. In fact they want me to have one, but I ........"

He cut her off, saying; "Sure, sure."

"You are the most miserable little nerd I've ever met."

A black Saab entered the school's driveway, getting both their attentions. It stopped in front of them and they could hear the door button pop. Polly pulled it open, but had to wait to get in as her Mom was leaning across the passenger front seat. She looked at Polly's companion and said; "Does your little friend here need a ride?"

The two children simultaneously spoke. Polly said; "This nerd is not my little friend," and he said; "No, thank you. And tell her my name is not nerd. It's Bobby."

Mom kept a frozen smile on her face and nervously toyed with her medium length, light brown hair. She leaned back onto the driver's seat, allowing Polly space to enter. The little girl slammed the door behind her and contentiously said; "Do you have to keep that phony dentist office grin on all day?"

Mom's expression did not change when she countered with; "Some of us have learned to be civil."

"And, after rushing me around all the time, can't you show up on time? You're fifteen excruciating minutes late!"

Mom finally modified her grinning mask and changed into one displaying genuine amusement. She looked at Polly knowingly and said; "Things like this wouldn't happen if you would carry a cell phone as we've requested."

Initially Polly was perturbed at having to hear about the plastic human placement device she wanted no part of. Her annoyance changed to a wry smile when she thought of an answer, saying; "Things like this would too certainly happen, even if I carried a cell phone. I'd just get stuck listening to the why, which is really an excuse and have to pretend how I really didn't mind." She felt triumphant sitting there gazing out the side window, watching the empty streets roll by, the only people those getting into or out of cars, some talking to cell phones.

Chapter 3

The following morning the animals were understandably restful, rather than restless, at the Corrales Humane Shelter. Everyone was sound asleep despite the snoring produced by Gustav, a five year old, mild mannered German shepherd. Unlike most of the others he never had the experience of being an unwanted dog. He spent happy years with his human companion. Then his friend got Parkinson's disease and could no longer take care of him. Gustav doesn't know this, but his friend regularly contributes money to the shelter in order to keep him alive until he is adopted.

After enjoying the best night he's had in some time, Gustav was lying on his side in his cage, sounding like a sputtering lawnmower, when Debby opened the front door, jarring everyone awake. No one moved very much and there were a number of yawns as legs shakily stretched out. Debby was surprised at their blasé attitudes, as she was accustomed to being greeted with anxious yips, signifying desperate needs for food or anxious needs for a trip outdoors.

She discerningly eyed the crew as she walked to her desk wondering if any of the volunteers had come in unannounced last night and had taken them all for walks. Some were very adept with dogs and were capable of taking three at a time. She checked the log-in sheet and didn't see anyone's name after the prior morning. That wasn't conclusive, as many of the volunteers' interest was in making the dog's life better and they were not prone to thinking about paperwork, no matter how minor. She again took a close look at her charges and saw that some were trying to go back to sleep and the others looked back at her, bleary eyed and contented. She was certain that something unaccounted for had happened last night, but it posed no problem, as it was for the better.

Under no pressure to dole out the food quickly, she strolled to the other side of the room and drew open the picture window's blinds. It appeared as though it was going to be another good April day, as the sky was substantially clear. The sun had already attempted to show its head over the mountain, but was being hindered by a thin gathering of bulbous dark clouds resting at the top of the Sangre De Cristos. There was a gentle but persistent breeze coming in from the west, which carried the possibility of clearing, if it could climb the treacherous, jagged rocks.

Debby prepared the morning meal, shoveling cans of donated food into plastic dishes. She carried them to the cages and was surprised to see that, though the dogs were inside, the cage doors had not been snapped shut. She made mental note that she would have to mildly chastise the perpetrator, when she found out who it was. She was surprised that none of the dogs had pushed on the door, thereby opening it, but dismissed the thought when she considered that she, too, would stop trying to push open a locked door after two or three attempts. She further thought; "The dogs currently in residence have been here long enough to have exhausted their quota of futile attempts, with the exception of the newcomer, Prince." She looked his way and saw him standing in his cage looking at her, with a content, satisfied expression, his tongue hanging out, as if he could read her mind. His Buddha posture resulted in her momentary unease. She fastened each gate after she dropped in their meals and freshened their water.

She hadn't been back at her desk for more than a few seconds when the front door swung open with a force which might have maimed someone unfortunate enough to be standing near it. Pasquale Inglacio resounded a hearty; "Good morning, Debby."

"Good morning, Squale (pronounced Skwally). Thanks for coming, but how many times do I have to talk to you about the way you open that door?"

Squale's eyes shot to the ceiling and his forty year old, olive skinned face evinced a frown. He said; "Sorry. You know I am a passionate man, overly anxious to come here and help the unfortunate dogs." He bowed at the waist.

"Well, don't kill 'em before you help 'em. All right?" She laughed at her need for issuing warnings to someone who had been a great help and had never hurt any of the dogs with his gusto infused entries. He did nail her right in the behind, once when she was cleaning up a doggy "accident" near the door, but she was adequately padded to absorb the shock with one staggered balancing step.

"All right, my love. All right."

"You weren't in here last night, were you?"

"No. I would have signed in. You know I am a believer in following the rules."

"I know, Squale. I'm just checking everyone. Someone left the cage doors open."

Squale disapprovingly shook his head. He perused the caged dogs, strutting slowly by them. He saw "Prince," and called out; "New one, Debby?"

"Yeah. We got him the night before last. The guy who dropped him off said he was trained to be a fighting dog." Debby knew that Squale fancied himself the local version of "The Dog Tamer," and that with his fiery temperment he would feel challenged to tame Prince. She didn't think that would be such a bad thing.

Squale put his hand on top of Prince's cage and hit it twice, making sure he had the puppy's attention. Prince looked up at the confident, grinning, unshaven man and was reminded of people for whom he had previously done involuntary command performances. The two stared into each other's eyes, not intending love. In his patented enthusiastic way, Squale called out to Debby; "This puppy doesn't look so tough to me." Unseen by Debby he removed a stick from his back pocket and held it near the gate. He kept his eyes on Prince hoping that the dog would get his meaning. He couldn't know for sure, but Prince did.

The dictator reached into a pocket on his dirty, tan, synthetic jacket and removed a short chained leash and a choke collar, re- hiding his stick. He said; "This is for your own good. If you're going to have any chance of being adopted, you're going to have to learn to obey." One might have believed him if they didn't see his maniacal smile and bulging eyes. He opened the gate and Prince retreated to the rear of the cage. "Afraid?" he taunted. "Good, that's the way it should be." He reached in and grabbed Prince's front right paw and tried to pull him forward. Prince lost track of everything else around him, excepting the marauder's hands and the sound of drums that permeated his head. He instinctively considered biting, but held back thinking of the stick and that he was not yet in any physical danger. Prince leaned back and Squale pulled his paw forward, causing a momentary sharp pain, akin to closing a door on one's finger. The puppy had no choice but to go forward and through the door, the drums more loudly pounding their beat into his head.

Prince opened his mouth and placed the side of his head, teeth exposed against Squale's hand, as if to say; "I can bite you if I choose."

Marian was driving her two year old, red Toyota hatchback quickly down Corrales Road. She was twenty minutes later than usual and was rushing to get in at least a short walk with the strange dog she met yesterday. She thought that they might understand each other's eccentricities and wanted to get him used to her touch, in an effort to show him that all humans are not crazy mean. Some, like her are capable of co-operation. She parked in the back lot of the shelter and was surprised to see Prince's unmistakable white coat 100 feet away.

She was horrified when she also saw that he was being viciously yanked around by a man who was also hitting him with the leather leash handle. "Heel! Heel!" the man unsuccessfully commanded while Prince tried to pull away from him, ignoring the agony and lack of oxygen triggered by the choke collar. Despite his fear of the stick the pulsating beat of the drums reached their climax as it was desperation time. If he got any weaker he would pass out, so the only remaining option was to attack. Prince saw Marian hurrying to the thus far, one-sided confrontation. She stopped ten feet away, took her cell phone from her pocket and snapped off five quick pictures.

Squale's attention went to her and he loudly said; "Hey, what are you doing?"

She put the cell phone back in her pocket and said; "Gathering evidence to have you charged with cruelty to animals."

Squale knew that photos of what he was just doing would look very incriminating, so he tried to assuage Marian by calmly saying; "I'm a volunteer at the shelter. I love animals."

"Yeah, looks like it."

Prince tried to walk to Marian. From the change of tone he thought she carried some sort of magic. But he was held back by Squale, who said; "You don't understand. This is a dog which was trained to fight and kill. If he doesn't get properly trained no one will adopt him and he'll wind up being euthanized." He again yanked Prince back violently.

Marian agitatedly said; "No, you're the one who doesn't understand. I'm a volunteer too and I had him out yesterday without any problem." She knew that was stretching the truth, but she felt no obligation to be completely honest with a dog abusing slob.

Squale retorted; "You probably were too soft. Spoiling a dog doesn't do him any good."

Marian knew that there was a fine line to be drawn, but didn't see any benefit in discussing that with this brutal idiot. She looked down at Prince and saw that his neck was bleeding from the choke collar and said; "Let's make this simple. You either give me the leash right now or these pictures go to the authorities."

Squale hesitated, but when he saw the conviction in her resolute face and eyes, he gave her the handle. She knelt down and removed the choke collar. She disgustedly threw it ten feet away and substituted it with a well-used soft leather collar she carried with her in case of emergencies, that was once the neckwear of one of her long gone canine companions.

Marian knelt by Prince to assess the damages, primarily to his neck. As she tried to obtain a thorough look, Prince was still jittery and tense. He frantically licked her face, knocking off her wire rimmed glasses. He was not yet sure, but he hoped that Marian had taken control from Squale, who was still standing nearby watching the two.

While she detected some degree of bleeding on Prince's neck, he didn't seem to be suffering, as he started to quickly lead her toward the ditch. When Squale saw Prince in front, he was compelled to offer more of his canine acumen and said; "You're going to ruin him. Dogs only understand one thing, leader and follower. I see which one you'd prefer to be." He sneered, noticeably exhaled air from his fat nose and managed to deposit something green on his upper lip. In an effort to not be obvious in his faux pas, rather than wiping the snot wad off with his hand or a handkerchief, he extended his tongue upward and captured the morsel, thinking he would not be noticed.

Marian didn't care about his dining proclivities, as, more importantly, she had already been seeing red strawberries and his last stated piece of "wisdom" caused a deepening in color to that of a passion fruit. She yelled; "You're the one who only understands one thing and it's obvious you're not the leader. If you don't get away from me, I swear to God, that I will have you prosecuted."

Prince didn't know the meaning of her words and hoped she wasn't yelling at him. When he saw Squale shuffle away he realized that he was not the object of her wrath and that just like timid dogs, some humans back off from the mere sound of a competent growl. He made a mental note that he would have to practice different dialects.

As the self-deluded, would-be-surreptitious booger man threw his incriminating stick into the ditch water, both he and it faded into the distance. Prince slowed down his gait and walked side by side with Marian. He considered her his savior and he wanted to get a good look at her. The sun had just made its escape from the thin line of clouds in the east and it's now unhindered rays illuminated her determined face. It caused her long gray hair to appear as if it were extended three more inches in a glowing, soft sparkle.

Nearing the ditch, Prince could not restrain his thirst and overheated body. Despite a less than insistent "No" from Marian he went down into the murky water. He slurped away and replenished his energy. The cooling process was instantaneous as the muddy water came up to his head and half of the time covered his entire body. Marian winced at the thought of his neck wounds being immersed in water not suitable for bathing. Prince winced too, but in his case it was the result of more than a thought. It was the stinging sensation he felt below his head. He climbed out of the water and gave her a sheepish look, as if to say; "I just had to do that."

She smiled at him and patted his head a few times. He headed further down the road, slightly in front, but not pulling at the leash. The scent of the shrubbery on the opposite side of the water piqued his curiosity and he became motionless, sniffing the air in its direction, his unpleasant, burning neck reminders forgotten. He somehow knew that she didn't want to cross the water and was perplexed. The smell was of a juicy fast food bag and it seemed strong. He imagined uneaten hamburgers, onion rings and French fries; his favorite special treats and this time he didn't have to fight another dog to get them, if he could only figure out a way to get to the other side without requiring his friend to traverse her obstacle in a non-soaking manner. He had it; bridge! He remembered one of yesterday's lessons, that being that you don't have to come up the same way you go down. He made a minor variation on the theme and concluded that he didn't have to go right after the goodies. He could pursue them in a circuitous manner by leading her to a bridge first.

In his excitement he moved a bit too fast and Marian couldn't or didn't want to keep the pace, resulting in his collar irritating his neck. She didn't know what prompted him to suddenly require rapidity and said; "Whoa, whoa. It'll be there when you get there."

Prince didn't understand what she said and even if he had that ability he would have disagreed heartily. His experience in the competitive world suggested something more like; "If you slow, you blow." He slowed down a bit, but was still moving too fast for her liking and the chain was consequently strained. He had to make mini stops to allow her to catch up, during which he scanned the area for others who might desire the aromatic treat. Seeing none, he slowed to Marian's speed and hoped that a hidden raccoon wouldn't pop out of somewhere. He glanced at her face as they walked almost together, thinking; "Oooooh, can't you move just a tad quicker?" Her edgy expression suggested that she was doing her best.

Finally reaching the bridge in what seemed like a lifetime to Prince, he crossed without breaking stride, but Marian stumbled on the elevated first step. She remained on her feet, but her necessary pause resulted in Prince being sharply jerked back, re-reminding him that he had a fragile neck. Simultaneous with her trip, Marian let out a sound that approximated "Whoop." Prince looked back at her thinking; "I slowed down for you. Can't you hold up your end?"

She interpreted him correctly and sarcastically said; "So sorry that I have only two legs." They continued on, each a bit disgruntled with the other's performance, but each also doing their best to acquiesce to the other's "unreasonable" requirements.

Nearing Prince's object of desire, he got off the path and went through ten feet of eighteen inch tall brush to get to it. Marian had no objection as she could tell that they were entering the final phase of their excursion and the blue denim pants she wore protected her legs from any surprises that she might encounter in the soft brush. Then she got her first glimpse of the fast food bag buried in the weedy undergrowth. Her instincts were to pull him away, but he already had his whole head inside the bag. He exited, chomping on a half-eaten hamburger replete with onions, pickles, lettuce, tomato and some kind of sauce unknown to her. She tried to get it away from him, but he would quickly move it to another spot when she bent over to do so. She was able to get a full view of Prince's passion and contented herself seeing that it had no worms or mold. She sat down and watched him dispose of the entire contents of the bag, item by item. Chicken nuggets, onion rings, French fries and a breakfast sausage were the order of the day. He chewed at the small plastic packages of ketchup and managed to draw it out, getting some on his furry face. She was amused and continued to recline as he re-investigated everything there, hoping that in his haste, he had missed something.

Feeling full and satisfied Prince temporarily forgot about having the misfortune to meet Squale, the "Dog Tamer" with the loud mouth. He walked to Marian and brushed his snout against her face. It tickled her, causing her to pull away from him and stand up. She immediately realized that he might see her action as a rejection, so she bent over, kissed him a number of times and energetically petted his back. Prince sensed the warmth of her touches enhanced by a strengthening sun, both of them now free of any annoying hindrances.

He walked through the interesting brush and she easily followed him, hoping that he wouldn't again smell something edible as she thought that he had already consumed more than his share. Tiredness overtook his curiosity, compelling him to re-cross the bridge and walk back to the shelter. Marian opened the door and he went right to his cage, anxious to nap. Before letting him in, Marian took off his temporary collar and replaced it with his blue leather model, which was waiting on the cage top. She loosened it a notch, not wanting to further irritate his neck.

Debby wordlessly watched the couple, becoming accustomed to the unexpected behavior exhibited. She said; "Marian? What happened to Squale?"

"I hope he strangled himself with his chain."

"That's a bit harsh. Why do you say that? He's been very helpful around here walking the dogs."

"Helpful, my ...... you know what. I got five pictures of him abusing Prince."

"Abusing?"

"Yeah. He was strangling the dog in the choke collar and at the same time was beating him with the leather handle. I wouldn't let him walk any more dogs if I were you."

Debby really didn't want the news and was also shocked at the story. She said; "Are you sure?"

Marian showed her the photos on her cell phone.

Debby shrugged in exasperation. "That's really bad news. It's getting harder and harder to find volunteers."

"Well, the dogs would be better off sitting in their cages than being beaten by that sadistic freak."

Debby slowly and sadly nodded her head affirmatively.

Chapter 4

The sudden bang-rattle-bang-rattle-bang of a pickup truck carting evergreen trees on a bouncing trailer woke Polly prior to her boringly trustworthy alarm clock. She bolted from bed to see what the ruckus was all about, as it sounded as if something had exploded right under her windows. She caught a glimpse of the offender before he was far away, seemingly none the worse for having encountered the speed bump in front of her house, as he continued to bob, weave and rattle down pre-sunrise, sleepy morning Camino De Lucia. "Another one new to the area starting gardening early," she thought as she focused her tired eyes on her quiet timepiece and pushed the button that would ensure it keep its peace for another day.

She went back into her bed and pulled the covers over her head, intending to resume sleep. Polly fidgeted and fussed, but she was up to stay and was all too soon paid a visit by her diligent Mom, who arrived earlier than usual, as she, too, was roused by the rolling local gardening service.

Mom sat on the bed's edge and furiously rubbed her daughter's belly, wanting her to come out from under the covers. She knew her little one was wide awake as she detected movement beneath the sea of cotton. When Polly balked, Mom tickled her and her squirms and laughter disabled her ability to remain hidden.

"Stop, stop," Polly giggled as she moved around, trying to evade the cause of the excruciating laughter. She wiggled to the other side of the bed and slowly slipped off onto the carpeted floor, still unable to keep a straight face. Mom followed, picked her baby up and gave her three wet kisses on the face, which Polly pretended to hate more than the tickling onslaught.

Mom again took a seat at the bed's edge and Polly sat next to her. Mom said; "Your father and I were talking last night ...... "

Polly interrupted to inject her form of humor, flatly saying; "Congratulations, a major breakthrough." She giggled and Mom squeezed her nose and continued as if nothing happened, saying; "And we've come to the conclusion that you have to carry a cell phone."

Polly had previously been through this conversation two or three times and was disappointed to see that she had not already disposed of the matter effectively. The two faced each other. Polly rolled her eyes and through pursed lips said; "No way."

Mom recognized the impasse, but was surprised that it happened so soon in the discussion. As a matter of practice, she always tried to reason with her daughter, but now they were firmly entrenched at yes-no loggerheads. She said; "You know, that guy you were standing with, when I picked you up yesterday, could have been some kind of a nut."

"He was."

Mom saw that, as early in the day that it was, Polly was adequately alert to require her to be painstakingly precise in her use of words. She said; "Okay, little Ms. Difficult, let me make it easy for you. Dad and I have determined that in order to maximize your safety, you will be required to carry a cell phone."

Polly searched for something debatable in that statement. She said; "If you really want to maximize my safety, let me stay home from school."

Mom considered a revision. She said; "Given, that the law requires you to do certain things, alone and away from home and, that it is in your own best interest that you do certain things, alone and away from home it is incumbent upon us (Dad and I) that you be protected ......" Mom stopped, looked into Polly's concentrating eyes and determined that no matter what she said, her argumentative little one would find some way to dispute it. She secretly was pleased, as she thought that this boded well for a career as an attorney, not a bad job for a woman, no matter the political and cultural scene, but, for right now, she said; "The heck with that nonsense. Think about it today, as tonight your father will insist and he's not averse to spanking."

Polly was shocked, as she had come to believe that physical coercion had gone the way of the dinosaurs, at least in her household. Mom saw her distress and added; "Oh, come on. It's not that bad. All you have to do is put the thing in your bag and dial 911 if something happens."

Polly was still primarily focused on the word "spanking." She thought; "Doesn't that mean uncivilized striking? Is my father capable of that?" She started to cry.

Mom sadly looked at her upset little girl, who displayed wet eyes, tousled dirty blond hair and was wearing her pink Tinker-Bell jammies. Mom knew what the problem was with her willful baby and she knew that her husband would not resort to corporal punishment. She said; "No. ...... I just said that in desperation." Mom put her arm around Polly and added; "I'm sorry. We just worry about you having to be out there alone." She considered saying something about all the nuts running loose. At least she heard that this was the case, but often wondered if today people just fretted about the subject more than in the past. She decided not to instill any unnecessary fear in her child. She had already told Polly not to talk to any adults that she or her Dad had not introduced her to and not to go near cars if called over by strangers. Still, she wished that Polly would carry a cell phone, especially when she went walking in the woods by the river behind their housing development. When the house was purchased, the realtor and others told them what a great thing it was to have "Bosque," as it is called in New Mexico, access, both for recreation and property value. Now she questioned its desirability, as the private easement led to a rather remote part of the woods. She had never heard of anything bad happening there, but why risk being the first tragedy? She said; "The phone will help me worry less. Everyone has them now."

Polly felt better, slightly reverted to her jovial self and said; "Yeah. That nerd you saw me with yesterday was especially proud of his." She giggled while her mother frowned.

Mom said; "You can put it in your pocket or bag and you won't even know it's there."

"Until it rings or beeps disturbing the tranquility of nature." Polly saw the disappointed look on her mother's face and quickly added; "I'll give it serious thought today at school. I'm leaning toward yes."

Mom smiled, took her by the hand and led Polly to the kitchen as the first rays of sunlight streamed through its naked window. She ate, dressed and got her ride to school and Ms. Dermer.

Polly sat in her front row seat and ruminated about the new fascination; the necessary suburban bourgeois status symbols called cell phones. She wanted her parents to feel that they were doing their proper job in protecting their little girl, but thought the reality of the situation was that anyone who intended her harm would be smart enough to first disable the plastic piece of dog doo. She also tried to look at things from their perspective. If something did happen to her, how deficient would they appear to investigators and the inevitable busybody club of Corrales for not taking every step to effectively do their job as the consensus had dictated? She was leaning toward deferring to their wishes and carrying the noisy monster, when she realized that it would create its own problems. There was no doubt that once she carried one it would invite unwanted calls and if she chose not to respond, or dare she turn the thing off, it would prompt some kind of big deal emergency. Her reverie was broken by the stench of Ms. Dermer's "perfume" choice of the day. This one was stronger than most and was reminiscent of the muriatic acid her father once used to clean an extremely dirty bathtub. She wished someone would care enough to protect her from the daily nasal assault on her lungs and sense of aesthetics. She thought; "Ms. Dermer must be one dirty old bat to require a daily dosing of heavy duty cleansers." She didn't want to pursue that thought and returned to her current family generated consternation.

Polly got a brainstorm she hoped was not induced by inhaling toxic fumes. "Protection" was the stated reason for her need for plasticized safety, with all its deficiencies and complications. How about a flawless flesh and blood defender, devoid of a penchant to disturb the peace and tranquility of nature; a guard dog! She had previously entertained passing thoughts of having a canine companion, but didn't know anything about how to take care of one. She was also a bit fearful of dogs, probably emanating from her cousin's visits with his puppy years prior. When she was very little he brought over a nippy little guy and it seemed that once Polly showed that she was afraid of being bitten, the dog liked "pecking" her all the more. She wound up spending the majority of the visits on her bed, where she couldn't be reached.

In more recent times she became a bit more at ease around dogs, as many of the people she met when out walking the Bosque were accompanied by leashed, well behaved pooches which weren't inclined to any nonsense. Upon invitation she had petted a number of the friendly, furry creatures without incident. She realized that these experiences were controlled and involved dogs, which seemed to have been trained out of all wild instincts. They walked dutifully at their masters' or mistresses' side at the dictated pace and she felt sorry for them at times, but appreciated their reticence to get aggressive.

She sat on her one-piece, laminated chair, leaned forward, elbows resting on the tiny attached desk and doodled in her notebook, as Ms. Dermer, head down, read from a history book about Patrick Henry. "Give me liberty or give me death."

"Radical," she thought, her initial reaction one of wondering what country he founded, immediately eliminating the possibility of the one in which she resided. "That was a long time ago, probably before cell phones had been invented."

Her mind again returned to its most pressing problem. She did not want to carry a cell phone, no matter what. That would be the efficient end of any semblance of liberty that remained in her life. So that made a dog the rule of the day. But, that opened other considerations. She'd have to convince her parents. She'd have to learn to take care of it. She'd have to totally overcome her fear of dogs. It would have to be fierce and ready to protect her, but not from things that meant no harm. It would have to be disciplined enough to listen to her. She didn't want a depressed one which boringly remained at her side. She didn't want one that would pull her all over the place. She didn't realize it, but she was trying to do something few have had any success at and she was still only ten years old. She and the dog would both have to be extremely smart and extremely lucky.

"Ms. Polly," shouted Ms. Dermer. "Do you have the slightest idea of what I am talking about?"

The shock of reality overtook Polly's mental meanderings and she knew she would have to pay some type of lip service to the stinker's tedious diatribe. She again wished for a comfortable rear seat and she said; "I think so," wanting to remain as brief as possible.

"And your informed insight into that is what?"

"The importance of liberty, obviously." She shrugged her shoulders and grimaced, as if to say; "Tell me something I don't know." There was a modicum of giggles from her classmates, to the consternation of Ms. Dermer, who drummed her pointing stick on her desk, restoring order.

"Ms. Polly, I don't think you've been paying the least bit of attention."

Polly was silent.

Ms. Dermer said; "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Don't get smart with me."

Polly reached her threshold of patience and responded with an edge, saying; "What is it you're asking me? I don't understand."

Ms. Dermer didn't precisely know what it was that she was asking and that made her more agitated. She directly accused Polly of being remiss in her duty to pay attention, saying; "Your mind is obviously elsewhere." Her agitation must have inspired perspiration, as the scent of household cleansers was magnified.

Polly concluded that by this time she was already in deep doo-doo and consequently didn't have anything more to lose and said; "What do you expect from a C+ student?"

Ms. Dermer again played an out of sync tune with her pointer, as she couldn't think of anything intelligent to say, not that she had yet demonstrated such an ability to anyone other than herself. As what is pitifully typical of idiots in charge, she reverted to a command and said; "You will give me your undivided attention!"

Polly concluded that Ms. Dermer was German, nodded "Yes," and said "Yavol," at the last minute deciding not to do the Nazi salute. Ms. Dermer, not certain if she was being mocked, but momentarily satisfied with having re-established her governing authority over an inattentive ten year old, put her eyes back in the history book and commenced reading of the great thoughts of this country's founding fathers concerning freedom and liberty, with no concept of what the direct, simple words meant. They were merely short phrases to be memorized to pass standardized objective tests. Her understanding began and ended with independence from Great Britain. She hadn't gotten out more than a sentence or two, when a little boy, near the back of the room put the back of his hand to his mouth and unleashed a vulgar sound approximating; "Thrp-poo-phrrt." The day's lesson in history was firmly established without the benefit of Ms. Dermer's book, as the class could not refrain from outbursts of laughter the remainder of the afternoon and collectively, could not be controlled by the headmistress.

Prince woke from his morning nap, feeling as well as a dog sequestered in a tiny cage possibly could. He instinctively knew that he would not be required to fight and despite the break of day flirtation with disaster, recalled and was grateful to Ramon for bringing him to a peaceful place. The fiftyish Spanish man worked as a cleanup man at the dog fighting compound that contained Prince's earliest memories. The two had established an eccentric friendship. Ramon didn't want to be there, but was considered mildly retarded and he needed a job, any job, though in fact his malady was that he had undiagnosed autism spectrum disorder. Prince didn't want to be there either, but also had little choice in the matter, perhaps resulting in an undiagnosed depression. Each seemed to sense the other's frame of mind and as top dog, Prince had the run of the place. He took to following the short, enduring man around while he performed his tasks, often getting underfoot. If none of the owners and organizers were present they would play. Ramon would throw a rubber ball and Prince would scoot to fetch it and then it was Ramon's turn to catch him to get it back. This wasn't easy for Ramon, unless he could corner the fast and agile dog and most often Ramon would give up after tiring himself out and sit down, at which point Prince would walk to him and drop the ball at his feet.

What Prince didn't know was that a few days ago Ramon became aware that the following day there was going to be a big money match between Prince and an imported pit bull-boxer cross, a type new to him and like Prince; the pit bull- boxer had never been beaten.

He also had overheard a phone conversation in which the principal owner, "Hatchet Man" discussed the state of the facility. It seems that the foundation, walls and roof were all in serious need of repair. Brown and muscular "Hatchet Man" had been offered a proposal from one contractor to do all the work, starting each segment simultaneously, but found that to be a stupid and possibly expensive showing of faith. Though it was much more expensive this way he insisted that the work should start solely with the foundation, as if it could not be properly repaired he wouldn't waste money on the walls and roof. If it was fixable, then he wanted the walls done prior to the roof with the same rationale. While the contractor was amenable to the owner's request because he would definitely make a lot more money if all three things were done and priced individually, he preferred the "all at once" approach as this guaranteed him a higher profit than just one aspect would. He also wanted to get going on the roof because he wanted to keep any rain off his work and his head. The owner insisted on having things his way and foundation work was to commence any day. Ramon knew it was beyond repair, because he had a small area of genius, being an idiot savant, which was probably a result of his autistic spectrum disorder and that was foundations. He also knew that the crumbling hard concrete foundation was the cause of the wall and roof problems and that the only possible solution was complete replacement with a mix of stone and a soft bonding compound like that which was used in the nineteenth century. Hatchet Man wasn't open to doing a complete repair and even if he changed his mind there was no longer any artisans experienced in working with the soft bond. Undetectable or overt earth tremors dictated the use of something capable of swaying without breaking apart. He saw confident "Hatchet Man" with the phone in his right hand and the source of his self-assurance, a nine in his left, point the barrel down, grin and say; "What am I gonna do with the dogs if I can't fix it? I'm going to shoot them myself. I'd like to watch them die. The first one will be surprised, but the rest will know its coming. I'd like to see how brave they are then." He laughed and fondled his nine. "Yeah, they're insured."

Rightly fearing for his friend's life for two sound and fundamental reasons, Ramon led Prince out of the otherwise human-free facility, put him in his car and drove him to the Corrales Humane Shelter. He had no trouble getting Prince into his cage as the spotted marvel trusted and liked him. Ramon said a tearful goodbye, kissed Prince on his big, silly, black nose, which was extended between the bars and hoped that the smart animal would understand why he was caged. He drove back to his job as quickly as he could and hoped no one discovered his temporary absence.

Prince understood somewhat by the next day when he was not required to perform any acts of violence, but was befuddled that the price for this was being all too often confined. He had no conception of adoption and like the aborigines, thought that the current situation would last forever. Further reflection on the subject resulted in the dismissal of the first thought as his circumstances had already changed, so why couldn't it change again? He hoped it would be to a place where combat and incarceration were not part of the status quo. Does such a place exist? Or was he engaging in hopeless fantasy?

He lazily gazed around the single room that was already becoming a bit too familiar. The blinds had been opened, presumably by Debby and the parking lot view it afforded was better than nothing, but naught to sustain. He looked to his midnight marauding brothers and sisters and they returned the favor. Their faces were questioning and anticipatory, no doubt waiting for the moment they could all be again allowed to use their legs for the things they were made for. Cage sitting was for quadriplegics. Though not feeling up to it, Prince tried to summon up a confident look, as he thought that, by default, he was now obliged to provide some kind of hope to his fellow prisoners. He worked up the mettle to self-assuredly nod in their direction. With bright eyes he attempted to say; "Just wait. We'll have our time," though he was far from certain of that. They looked back at him with faces that reflected the way he truly felt and he wondered if they were oblivious to the phony façade and could read his mind. He also wondered how long they had been there. Two days of "humane" treatment were already beginning to take its toll on him. Imagine two weeks, two months, or two years. Better still, don't imagine it. He saw Debby at her desk, frustrated and animatedly speaking into her phone. He didn't know that she was trying to explain to the landlord that dog-doo in the back of the property was not likely to be causing poor attendance at the other retail facilities in the strip mall, all of which were only open to front end access and, yes, that she would make a better effort to expeditiously remove the health hazard in the future. He couldn't wait for evening when he would probably be able to again free himself and his companions and they would all be able to experience the exhilaration of running the entirety of the twenty foot by twenty foot facility in the dark, illuminated by the indirect glow of the garish, red, fluorescent lights next door, proudly highlighting the existence of "Nunzio's Native American Chinese Imports." Under the circumstances Prince decided that the best thing he could do right now was return to sleep and wait for the magic of the night. He turned his back to everything in his purview, lay down and shut his eyes.
Chapter 5

Polly was impatiently waiting in front of her school at 3:30PM. She bristled and her back stiffened when she heard the whoosh of the pneumatic door, a sound that had never heralded anything good. She was somewhat relieved when she didn't detect any nauseating odor, but kept her back to whatever made the grand entry or exit, hoping it would go about its own business. But to her chagrin skinny Bobby showed up and chose to stand two feet from her. Initially annoyed, she soon thanked God for small favors, as at least it wasn't smelly Ms. Dermer with some complaint.

Bobby was digitally manipulating his cell phone and suddenly said; "Look what I've got on the screen."

"No." She moved two steps further away and looked away from him.

He followed her and tried to put the cell phone in front of her face, saying; "Come on. You'll like this."

She shut her eyes tightly and squirmed, simultaneously wishing that she had a dog with her which would bite the entertainment Nazi. When she re-opened her eyes, there it was, right in full hideous view; a kinetically imprecise film of people entering the local discount store, stepping carefully to avoid stepping into a gigantic pile of, presumably, dog turd at the entranceway. Their gyrations and the looks on their faces were amusing, but the movie improved when Ms. Dermer walked to the door, head in the air, slipped and fell into the pile. Kids standing nearby smoking cigarettes couldn't control themselves, laughing and jumping, and Ms. Dermer was yelling something at them as a sizable gooey morsel ran down her back. Polly wanted to laugh out loud, but restrained herself as she didn't want to give the nerd and his cell phone any satisfaction. For the first time she had a possible reason for Ms. Dermer's bizarre selection of toilet waters.

Content that she had gotten the gist of the film clip, she put her free hand on the cell phone and pushed it toward Bobby, saying; "That's gross."

In an unconvinced tone, he said; "No kidding. Ain't it great?"

Before her natural inclinations forced her to tip her hand against her will, she was saved by the sound of tires dispersing the school driveway's pebbles. Polly's mother was driving her Saab more quickly than usual with a concerned look on her face. She jammed on the brake in front of her daughter and the persistent entertainer and Polly immediately opened the front passenger side door and went in. With her mother staring at her, Polly started laughing out loud at the film of Ms. Dermer when they had exited the school grounds and could no longer be seen by Bobby.

In an elevated voice, Mom said; "What? What's so funny?"

Polly couldn't control herself enough to make a coherent reply and haltingly managed to blurt out; "The nerd's ...... pictures."

That was precisely the answer Mom did not want to hear and her mind visualized things she didn't want her baby to see. As she veered to avoid an oncoming car which didn't seem to be particular about which side of the road it was on, she nervously asked; "What kind of pictures?" fearful of the answer.

"Dog doo," Polly laughed out, "Right in front of the discount store." Mom was silent in her relief and Polly again laughed out; "And Ms. Dermer fell in it."

Mom drolly said; "The internet never ceases to be amusing. So what did you learn in school today."

"Give me liberty or give me death."

"Radical."

"That's what I thought, too."

Mom made her way through the development and once again managed to find the correct house, despite the frequency of look-alikes. She recalled that when the family had first moved there she stopped at the wrong one, unsuccessfully tried her key in the front door and was greeted by an older, wildly bearded man holding a rifle, who was said to be suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome. It took a few minutes of panicky conversation to convince him that she was not attempting a break-in, nor was she an undercover operative in the employ of the Viet Cong. The final gunpoint attestation to her patriotism was not reached until she convinced him that she lived in a house visible from his front door, which displayed a "Stars and Stripes" on a thirty foot, gold-painted metal pole. She was embarrassed to subsequently appear to be friends with "Deadeye," who seemed to relish making a major production of their kinship whenever they crossed paths, attempting to play a version of "Reveille" on his auto horn. July Fourth was a particularly excruciating holiday, as Deadeye made it a ritual of dressing in his combat fatigues and helmet, to ride his horse through the development from 10AM until 2PM, shooting his rifle skyward. She hoped that his medical problems, which include late stage alcoholism made him forget about where she said she had lived and the absence of a red, white and blue statement of national pride where she did. On optimistic days she hoped his behavioral motivation was an effort to provide "proof" of his continuing PTSD, but couldn't keep the faith more than six days per year. Who said suburban life was boring?

Mom got Polly home without having to be serenaded, as, since Camino De Lucia was partially circular, she took the long way around to avoid passing Deadeye's house. However this choice was a matter of "lesser of evils" in the warm weather months as it necessitated passing by the domain of "Marietta the Masseuse and Part Time Realtor," as she had heard her called and timing was terrible today as she was at roadside, diddling with her flagging posies. She was forty years of age, heavily made up with bare midriff and tight shorts. Mom had been told that Marietta knew a lot of people and continually sought to expand her boundaries. Marietta's wide grin and ecstatic leaping wave seemed to advertise her excitement. Mom forced an office smile and waved. Mom said; "Smile and wave. It's what passes for being sociable in this friendly interesting neighborhood." Marietta hunched over to get a better look into the car. When she saw the occupants she made a noticeable frown and went back to her posies.

Polly asked; "What's her problem?"

Mom thought of a few speculative responses and settled on; "Midlife crisis."

As they entered the front door, Mom said; "Have you done any more thinking about the cell phone?"

With reticence Polly replied; "Yes. I think I'd prefer a dog."

Polly was more than a little surprised when her Mom said; "I'm on your side."

Pleased and speechless, Polly went to her room and changed into her casual clothes, awaiting the arrival of her father, when the cell phone issue was to be settled once and for all. It appeared as if she had an unexpected ally.

Happy, she sat up in bed, her loose fitting, light blue, pullover dress, rumpling underneath, as she spaced out, nonchalantly reading an illustrated version of "Through the Looking Glass." She noticed that Alice was wearing a dress just like hers in the pictures contained in the "Tweedledum and Tweedledee" chapter. The logical lack of logic, or vice-versa, was appealing and Polly thought that she would like to visit such a woodland. She got out of bed and stood in front of her mahogany, English glass on a stand and compared her appearance to that of Alice. She could see a number of similarities and the dress matched, as she revolved to obtain views from every possible angle. But in Alice's place, Polly couldn't imagine herself desiring to get out of the woods, at least not having that as her primary goal. It seemed a pleasant enough place with lots of interesting characters and had plenty of locations where one could experience total privacy. She considered that this may have been easier to come by in the nineteenth century and perhaps, therefore, was not as highly valued in antiquity. Now, there seemed to be almost none, except when she went Bosque walking and even then, following her mother's instructions she stayed on the main paths and consequently was never more than 100 feet from the nearest person carrying a cell phone with photographic capabilities. She couldn't wait to get her own dog, which would enable her to feel secure in getting far off the beaten paths. She might be able to feel completely secluded and who knows what wonders might await those willing to depart the tidy, obedient dog walkers, pretending to be enjoying a cheery "nature walk," sharing the land with discarded fast food bags and construction debris. Polly got so excited at the thought that she couldn't wait and wanted to go this minute. She stared into the mirror and saw waves of unreal reflection. She tried to go head first through it and was successful in bumping her head, causing a lump she was able to cover by brushing her hair more onto her forehead. The mirror swayed on its base, apparently not certain whether it wanted to face up or down, perhaps doing its best imitation of contemporary, post-modernist writers. "Ouch, reality," she thought. "Well, no matter, I forgot to bring the dog anyway." Polly remained in place, rubbing her forehead, glancing at her reflection which alternated between views of her lower half and the carpeted floor and her upper half with the beamed, wooden ceiling. She detected some type of poetic statement in the making, as she realized that she was merely focusing on the extremes, while her reflections and their neighboring counterparts also were of every possible gradation in between. As always happens in the busy, noisy and un-private world of 2012, just when she was on the verge of a momentous, new breakthrough, she was jarred out of that space for eternity, by the slamming of the front door and her father's booming, redundant announcement that he was home.

She found the humor in herself and her reflective situation and she ran from her room to greet her father, anxious to talk about cell phones and dogs. She slowed down on the stairs, not desiring another head lump and when she got to the brick floored first level, she saw her Mom and Dad cursorily embracing. They broke away, Mom returning to the kitchen wearing a gigantic, off-white, "THE COOK QUIT," apron and Dad scurried to the master bedroom to change, patting Polly on her cheek and making an obligatory, pointed and passing comment of "How's my cell phone girl," smiling efficiently as he non-stop went by, displaying a brief view of his back and gray pinstriped work uniform.

Polly was annoyed and said nothing. She considered going back to her book and mirror, but understood that tonight was to be the showdown and that she better get prepared for it. She entered the kitchen. With no difficulty she sat on one of the plastic black chairs, an approximate replica of an Art Deco tri-form harpist's, the original executed in reddish stained mahogany. One of the few home furnishings picked by Dad it was unusual in that the seat and base were triangular in form, while the backrest was a tall thin single splat, one piece with the seat and base, with heart shaped piercing near its top. The display of geometric angles rather than curves made a few consider its appearance severe. The backrest deceived the uninitiated. Those not familiar with the style thought it appeared too flimsy to support any weight, while in fact its union with the seat and base made it virtually unbreakable. Dad bought the set for its durability and appearance. Though the price was a bit steep he felt it would never have to be replaced. Polly leaned back not touching the wheat colored table and watched her mother clang around pots, pans, utensils and whatever else was in her way, unaware that she had company.

Polly interrupted the nervous clashing of iron and metal to re-confirm her pre-discussion position to say; "You're going to be on my side, right, Mom?"

Mom flinched and dropped a china plate into the stainless steel sink, which was resplendent with stains. She heaved a sigh and said; "What side is that?"

Polly showed her frustration, when she mock-pleadingly drawled out; "You know. What we talked about before. That I can have a dog rather than a stupid cell phone."

Mom recalled what she said and why she said it. She intoned; "You have my vote, but Dad's got one too."

Polly clapped her hands and beamed. She happily said; "And, so I have the deciding vote and a dog it is."

Mom shrugged and said; "You can't vote until you're eighteen. And you should be grateful for that, because if this was before 1930 or so, you wouldn't be able to vote at all. Neither would I, for that matter."

Polly couldn't fully comprehend what her mother was saying, as Ms. Dermer's history lessons had only brought her up to the Revolution and the Minute Men. If taught at all, the Suffragettes didn't come until much later. However, of most momentary significance to her was that it sounded as though her mother was waffling in some sneaky way. Polly didn't have the slightest idea of what, if anything, to say. She sat there resolutely thinking; "If I get stuck with a cell phone, it's going to get flushed down the school toilet."

Mom laid out the plates, glasses and cutlery and started to dispense the Swedish meat balls, when Dad entered and sat. He had changed into his light tan, pleated pants whose color, or lack thereof, matched the wheat table. He was topped by his light green golf shirt with the tiny, apropos emblem of crisscrossed putters on the empty pocket. He leaned forward on his tri-form chair, hands on the table, not the least bit anxious, but rather indicative of his desire to appear alert and involved.

Dad effected what he considered an appropriate smile and opened the three party conversation with; "Mmmmm. Swedish meatballs." He surveyed the faces of the other room occupants for reactions and saw Mom make a busy smile as she remained moving, proceeding with her serving duties and Polly showed a serious countenance, with the slightest of frowns. He directed his next remark at Polly, saying; "Don't you appreciate your mother's efforts in preparing this fine meal?"

Polly looked down and loudly dropped her fork into her plate of Swedish meatballs and agitatedly said; "Of course I do. But, we're here today to discuss something of more significance, or at least that was what I was led to believe. Am I required to also complement the sauce and tea before we get started?"

Mom said; "The sauce and tea aren't much anything other than efficient, so if anyone starts extolling their virtues, I'll know that they are a wicked liar."

Dad, a bit exacerbated, replied; "Well, excuse me for having manners."

Polly giggled and said; "You're excused. I decided that a dog would be more use to me than a cell phone."

Mom gave her baby an encouraging look, not visible to Dad, who blinked his eyes a few times and said; "You've decided?"

"Yeah."

With gentle sarcasm, Dad said; "Pray tell, what made you come to that conclusion?"

Mom said; "I'd like you to know that she's not alone in her thinking."

Encouraged, Polly excitedly said; "A dog will protect me. A cell phone is useless if anything really bad happens."

The simple, direct truth disarmed Dad. He was not used to hearing it at work or in social situations and he felt refreshed, but did not yet want to agree without a thorough examination of the matter. He said; "A dog won't call the cops for you."

Polly showed exasperation and replied; "Well, why would I need to call the cops? If I was being attacked the attacker would grab my cell phone or I might not have time to use it. Even if I was able to use it, by the time the cops got there it might be too late. A dog is right there and can take care of business. An attacker would probably even avoid me if he saw a dog."

Dad nodded and said; "Good answer. How about if we want to reach you or vice-versa?"

Polly shrugged and said; "The same thing we've been doing for the last ten years."

Dad questioned; "Nothing?"

Polly shrugged and repeated; "Nothing." After a pause she added; "It's gotten us this far."

Dad grimaced and leaned back on his chair, as usual appreciating the sturdy comfortable support. He looked to Mom for help. She had been half listening to most of the conversation, of necessity paying more attention to the timers and pots. She didn't notice her husband's glance as she was still occupied with the salad. She finished as quickly as she could, as she wanted to get into the meatballs before they required re-heating. She sat down and anxiously dug into her dinner and noticed that four intent eyes were on her. With a mouthful, she extended her hands palms up and curiously said; "What?"

Dad said; "We're looking for a little guidance. Polly has proposed getting a dog in lieu of a cell phone and has made a good case for its superior safety."

Mom said; "I'm well aware," and returned priority to her meal.

Dad expected a longer, more helpful response and prodded, asking; "And your thoughts are?"

Mom said; "Fine with me." Polly nodded and smiled broadly.

Dad felt extremely unusual. He considered this one of the more substantive household decisions to be made and it was getting little discussion other than that provided by him. He didn't expect the two areas to be identical, but this was the opposite of the process he dealt with at his office concerning lesser issues. It wasn't that he was not prepared to defer to Polly's wishes and rightly so in this case, but he had hoped that his wife would have said something a bit more wishy-washy seeking more input from him. He was devoid of further input, but wished that it was sought. Liberated women! He wasn't averse to the dog. In fact he liked the idea of having one around. He thought he might put in one more comment before he acquiesced and said to Polly; "Okay, but how about having a dog and a cell phone?"

Polly was surprised at not previously considering that as a possible procedure. She thought of the issue only in terms of either-or and therefore had no pre-prepared counter. She couldn't think of anything to say other than that she would flush it down the toilet and she didn't want to say that as things seemed to be going too well to risk an openly adversarial situation. Her mother realized Polly's predicament when she saw her daughter's anxious look to her and complacently said; "Isn't that like gilding the lily?" Polly tapped her feet on the floor in excitement. She didn't know exactly what it meant, but it sounded good and demonstrated that Mom was with her all the way.

Though he didn't like the idea of the decision being made with extremely limited participation from him, Dad was tired of playing the stupid nay-saying role and decided that he no longer wanted to appear the idiot. He surely liked having a dog around, not having had one since he was a kid. With the slightest hint of annoyance, he thought he kept some face, by firmly saying; "Fine. A dog it is. But, he has to be a good protector. No cutesy terriers." The women nodded and smiled at each other.

As Dad wiped sauce from his chin, he decided to join the club and relinquish his cautionary position, saying; "Tomorrow is Saturday, so no one has to be at work or school. Correct?" After getting two negative head shakes, he continued; "If Polly is to be properly protected, a small puppy is out of the question. I propose that we all go to the Corrales Humane Shelter and pick out a suitable one. I've always liked the idea of taking one that's been abandoned, as I think that most of the time it's the fault of the human and not the dog. It also fits the bill here nicely." He surveyed two supporting female faces and saw smiles and contentment, so he squeezed Polly's knee and buoyantly added in an elevated tone; "Then tomorrow it is. We'll have a wild house." Polly and Mom made small laughs wondering if Dad fully knew the accuracy of what he was saying.

Prince roused from his slumber when he heard Debby slam the door as she left for the day. He didn't spend the day sound asleep, as much as he spent it daydreaming about what the future held for him. While he appreciated the pleasant change being here and not being required to fight with other dogs, he couldn't imagine the possibility of spending most of his life in a cage, even with the ability to obtain nocturnal freedom. He correctly thought that the room was tiny and once he had been around the perimeter a few times, he was ready for more. He had known the liberties allowed and the increased territory open to him when he was a soldier in the combat zone and did not picture himself as being one to long tolerate the severe limitations currently imposed. He wasn't even previously content with the latitude afforded by the killing field, but at the time thought that his surroundings were all that existed. Now he knew better.

He wondered what the deal was in this weird place. What did the humans get out of keeping dogs in cages? They were adequately fed and brought out to do necessary business almost as often as required. Why go through the trouble just to maintain a dreary, limited existence for the dogs? What was in it for Debby? Maybe if he could understand her motivation he could think of a way to make the jam more mutually beneficial and enjoyable for both of them. The whole thing didn't make any sense to him. He wished he could find out from the other residents how long they had been here and anything else they might know of the confining system. From the glumly accepting expressions that he thought he had detected, his guess was that they were stuck here for some time, had no idea why, nor hope of escape. Maybe they just wished for more volunteers to take them out for long walks.

He rose and turned around to see all the others looking his way, no doubt hoping to again be set free, at the same time doubting if such a miracle was possible. His time for reverie was over as Prince knew he had more important things to do right now. He put his paw through the wire bars and hooked two claws in the springing lock mechanism. As he monkeyed with it, he thought, if something didn't drastically change very soon, that he would probably make a break for it and take his chances in the "wild." Nocturnal absconding confined to one room didn't do it for him. So, rather than another evening of full time play he would have to take some time to teach the other inmates how to get themselves some semblance of freedom. They, too had claws and that is all that is required. They only need to know that they are capable of doing whatever they can dream up.

With a pull of the simple mechanism and a push on the door Prince staggered out, a bit off balance. His friends eyes widened and they sat pertly on their haunches, now, for the first time, knowing that last night's performance was no fluky freak chance. He first walked to the cage closest to him, which was inhabited by an adult female Irish Setter. Neither of them probably knew that her tiny placard indicated that she was "Lucky." She excitedly waited for Prince to do his magic and was therefore perplexed when her liberator just stood there and shook his head "No." Lucky thought; "Come on, don't tease me. Do it!" She worriedly looked into his resolute eyes and when Prince saw that he had her full attention he moved his eyes to her locking mechanism and then back to her baby blues. After doing this twice she stood near the front of the cage, her worry converted to curiosity. Prince extended his paw through the cage bars and touched hers. Then he withdrew and touched the lock. He did this a few times and then Lucky got the idea he was trying to convey. She put her paw through the bars and felt around the lock. When she got near the bottom of it, Prince used his paw to guide Lucky's to the right spot and managed to get her claws hooked into it. She tepidly pulled and Prince indicated a strong "No" by violently shaking his head. He inserted his paw alongside hers and pulled hard. The door popped open and Lucky rolled out head first, plowing into Prince and knocking him back a few feet. She looked into his eyes sheepishly, apologetically and mirthfully and Prince was her mirror. He touched her paw and she knew to put it back on the lock, this time pulling downward forcefully to show that she understood how the system works. Prince again caught Lucky's gaze and he motioned with his head, to get moving. Together, they showed the other six dogs the same trick and in fifteen minutes eight dogs were again playing wildly in the room that was formerly only host to their barred penitentiaries, only this time with the confidence that they could make this dream happen anytime they desired.

The pretty female collie seemed so lost in her play, Prince didn't note any sign of her former unease. The formerly timid male boxer showed another side of himself by tenaciously mounting every obstacle the room held, as if he had climbed Mount Everest and the tiny female pug forgot about how big he was and ran behind him, trying, with his lead, to assert herself on her little world. Prince was very self-satisfied, as he considered this the crowning achievement of his young life. His eyes beamed at the frolicking group, which no longer looked to him for their right to happiness.

He sighed, wondering why no one had done this simple thing before he had come. Sensing that an aura of wistfulness was invading his happy frame of mind, he joined the group and ran with them all evening. When he saw the first sign of sun filtering through the closed blinds, he barked and went back into his cage. The others didn't question the necessity of doing so this time for at least two good reasons. They were extremely tired and they were confident that after resting all day, they would be back on the prowl tomorrow night with a brand new supply of energy.
Chapter 6

Polly was so excited at the thought of a canine companion and no cell phone that she was unable to sleep during the night, entertaining dreams of all the adventures she would have with a dog. Her imaginative young mind conjured up visions of the duo doing things that she had only seen in movies and on television, as this was to be her first real pooch. She fancied going to mountains, hills, forests, deserts and beaches, despite her reality of living in a development that bordered the Bosque and that would be the limits of their daily travels. The housing subdivision contained about fifty houses situated on approximately one acre each and the Corrales Bosque was a thin strip of generally wooded land, no more than 500 feet wide at its broadest point, bordering the Rio Grande River. The once mighty river was now much smaller and shallower than when it was named prior to many housing developments, like her own, being built. This had its advantages in some respects, as it now contained many well-vegetated islands that one could get to by wading through the river, which was generally no more than three feet deep. Of course, one could be surprised by a sudden drop-off, but Polly considered the risk one worth taking as the prize would be total privacy, as none of the locals were sufficiently adventurous to make the excursion. Besides, if she hit one of the deep spots he could swim and pull her the few feet necessary to get back to shallow water.

Polly realized that she unconsciously called her companion a "he." "Hmmm," she thought, as she wondered if that was just a meaningless way of phrasing her ideas, or if it suggested more. An average psychologist would be able to clock up hours of questions and conversation with that inroad. While she considered the illumination afforded by the "professionals" worthy of quaint, idle chit-chat in dull moments, right now she thought that she would rather deal with substantive realities, like the depth of the water.

She did want her new companion to be capable of heroism and she saw heroes are depicted in contemporary entertainment media as being overwhelmingly male. Still, she had seen countless episodes of "Lassie," and that girl was sure enough up to her stuff. She theorized that her experience was limited to the fantasies of screenwriters, but was temporarily stuck with that because she had not yet met any real life heroes of either sex. Of course her parents were kind of heroes to her, as who else would have the ability to put up with her willfulness and craziness without flipping out, but that was an even split. The rest were just a lot of ordinary people. She intended to find a companion suitable to her, with the ability and desire to protect her and look at its crotch afterward.

Polly was still restlessly moving around in bed, when the sun she was anxiously awaiting finally made its unobstructed presence known in her east facing open window. Polly was thrilled to see the beginning of her anticipated interesting and fateful day. This was going to be a huge decision, its effects going on for years. She suspected that even though she would be the human most involved with the dog, that she would not be the only human having input into its selection, unless she was resolute and a bit cunning. She wasn't yet sure if she would be ambivalent and like a few different dogs. That would make things easy, as no doubt her folks would approve of one of them. But, what if she had a special fondness for just one? And what if her folks had some semi-valid objection? Easy, she would throw a little fit. That's all there was to it. However, using this approach she realized that if anything ever goes wrong with the dog, it will be her fault and her fault only. Polly reflected on that a bit and came up with; "So what? At least I get what I want. That's the main thing." She thought she had her act choreographed. She changed from her Smokey the Bear jammies into well-worn blue jeans and a gray University of New Mexico sweatshirt, went downstairs to the empty kitchen and sat there itching to take on all comers.

Prince was not ready to take on all comers as he was sound asleep in his unlocked cage, exhausted from a full night of extended play and frivolity. He didn't hear Debby enter and contentedly stretched in the sun provided by her opening of the blinds.

All the dogs were lethargic, surprising Debby, as she was accustomed to being greeted by anxious animals frantically calling for a quick walk, food, or both. Her first thought was concern for their health and she made a mental note to later call some local vets and see if she could make one of them feel guilty and heroic and get him to make a call free of charge. To expedite her efforts, she wished that she were in on the local gossip, as whichever vet was having marital difficulties would probably be the easiest one to get out of the house on Saturday.

She said a quick hello to each as she briefly stopped at their cages, noting that, just as yesterday, the locks were not fastened. She snapped them shut and the dogs stretched out and then again relaxed, re-closing their eyes, as if to say; "Don't bug me this early." She concluded that one of the volunteers must be walking them, as most have keys and, as yesterday, they must have neglected to sign the log.

Prince drifted back off to sleep and to spoil the otherwise pleasant day, he dreamed that he was back at the dog fighting compound. He was in the center of the barren field surrounded by four of the operators. They were pointing at him, saying things indecipherable to him that they must have considered amusing, evidenced by their perpetual grins and the occasional short wicked bursts of laughter, which had nothing to do with good humor. They showed their respect by wearing heavily padded sleeves and were intently watching what he would do, as they knew he could be dangerous if provoked. Prince knew something was coming and he wished that the "brave" men didn't always have to show up in crowds, as he would have liked to take any of them on one on one. Despite his size disadvantage he had accumulated enough savage hatred to go maniacally berserk and was supremely confident that none of the drunken slobs would stand a chance alone. Maybe they knew that too and it might be the reason they always needed the safety of a gang. To Prince, most humans were merely vicious, useless cowards, with a bloodlust unmatched anywhere else on earth. He would love to have put one out of its misery and spit on the corpse.

"Diablo" Conde, the most drunken of today's gang and the least embarrassed to take self-aggrandizing nicknames, showed Prince the stick he was carrying. It was something like a cop's baton and he smacked Prince in the face with it, hard enough to draw some bleeding from the champ's mouth. Upon tasting his own blood, drawn only for the perverse pleasure of the group, Prince lost all sense of rationality and didn't care if there were four of them. He went for the baton and easily pulled it away from the inebriated bum and then went for him. He was smart enough to ignore the padded arms, as he had been through that routine on previous occasions and knew that it wouldn't do him any good. He went for Diablo's leg, sunk his teeth into his thigh and started to twist his head around tearing as much flesh as possible, as his companions backed away. Diablo fell to the ground and Prince let go of his grip, planning to go for the neck that was now within his reach. He felt a leather muzzle pulled onto his snout from behind. It was the principal owner of the hell hole, "Hatchet Man," and he was in no mood for any nonsense. His muscular dark brown body, created by years of serious weight lifting, was easily strong enough to hold Prince back, utilizing the heavy chain attached to the muzzle, now securely in place. Prince thought that the game was over and closed his eyes, expecting to be crowned with the club.

Hatchet Man yelled out angry words Prince believed were directed at him and he thought; "If you want to kill me, kill me. I don't want to hear your garbage." But, in actuality, he was yelling at the inept gang of four, saying; "You jerks best leave this dog alone. He's worth a lot of money to me." He disdainfully looked at the distraught group, sneered and said; "Besides, it looks like he can kick your ass." He reached down with one hand and roughly petted Prince's head and for the first time the dog suspected that he had some sort of an ally. He directed his conversation at Diablo, who was now on his feet wearing blood soaked pants, socks and shoes and calmly said; "I know you are mad. But, nobody told you to mess with my dog. And if anything happens to him I'm going to hold you responsible, so you best hope my boy stays in real good health. You understand me?"

Diablo quickly nodded affirmatively and said; "Yah, boss." Hatchet Man looked to the others who too started furiously nodding.

Hatchet Man said; "Now, get out of here." When the gang moved slowly Hatchet Man let Prince have some leash and the fighting dog jerked toward them, growling, as they quickly picked up speed and the boss laughed.

Prince looked up at his benefactor, not understanding what went on or was said, but thinking that he had some sort of powerful protector in Hatchet Man. But, if he aligned himself with him, wasn't this akin to a slave paying respect to his captor? Some kind of duplicity was necessitated. He wished someone would explain the rules of this retarded game to him, but realized that this was impossible. For the time being, Prince knew that whatever was just said, seemingly in his favor, he would have to be wary of possible revenge sought by Diablo when Hatchet Man wasn't around, as the pup had no way of reporting an incident, still unable to speak English.

Shaken, Prince woke as the door slammed and he jumped up ready for some kind of a confrontation. His eyes were alert and unblinking, his brain flashed nothing but red, then scarlet, then blood and his ears became dominated by the thunderous pulsation of demanding war drums. His rigid gaze turned to the direction of the noise, exposed fangs drooling. He did a double take and was glad no one saw his performance. He was relieved and ecstatic to see his long-haired friend Marian and despite his extremely limited rest period, hoped she would take him for another walk. No matter how much he yearned for complete freedom, he knew that his life was dramatically improved over what it once was, as soon as he saw her.

Marian looked his way and called out; "Debby, how is my bad boy behaving?"

"Fine, I guess. They're all more interested in sleeping today. They can't get in much trouble that way. Tell me, are you coming in here at night to walk the dogs?"

"No. I wish I could. Why?"

"The last two days I came in I found the cage locks open and I know I didn't leave them that way."

Marian grimaced and inquired; "Were they on the loose?"

"No, that makes it doubly strange."

Marian shrugged, thinking there were larger issues with which to be concerned, mainly finding homes for them and said; "No harm, no foul. At least that's what my basketball playing friend tells me."

Debby made an aborted attempt at a laugh and it came out a snort. She said; "Are you going to take your favorite out again?"

"I don't work today, so this is the perfect time for it. If he gets pig-headed, I've got all day to be just as pig-headed."

"Don't forget about the others."

"I'll get them eventually. They're all sound asleep, except for Prince, anyway." She pointed at him, looked in his direction and added; "Look at that happy face and his tail is going like a helicopter."

From her tone, Prince knew that she was saying something nice about him and that made him even more enthusiastic to get going. He scratched at the cage bars and made a plea that sounded like a high pitched "Oooooh."

Marian was intrigued with this puppy, as there seemed to be something different about him. He could surprise her. She had more than a score of dogs throughout her life and had volunteered to walk countless others, but they were always predictable. The stubborn ones were always stubborn. The docile ones were always docile. This guy could go strongly one way, but if he sensed that this was not desired by his mate, he could go just as strongly in the other direction. So far it was a manageable situation, though it was impossible to tell who was in charge. Squale thought that he was and Prince would have no part of that, but when she stubbornly sat with him, feeling dismayed, he seemed to pick up on that and did her bidding. Was this the impossibility proclaimed by "The Dog Tamer," a bow-wow capable of co-operation? She had more time to find out this morning. During the course of her reverie she was absently staring at him and he was thinking; "Come on, already!!!"

Marian retrieved her long leash from the pocket of her light blue quilted jacket and called out to Debby; "I'm off." She kneeled, opened Prince's gate and fastened it to his deep blue leather collar, with difficulty, as he was happily bathing her pale facial skin with his drizzling tongue. She was tickled, started to laugh and licked him back. He was enjoyably surprised, did a curious double take and decided to increase his efforts.

Debby saw the dual display and warned; "Be careful he doesn't take out a chunk."

Marian stood up, wrinkled her brow and retorted; "I'm not the least bit worried. Look at that happy face and wagging tail."

Given her cautious nature, Debby was compelled to make one more remark and said; "Don't spoil him, unless you're prepared to take him full time."

Prince pulled Marian to the front door, extending her arm socket. When she opened it he burst into the parking lot and then came to a full stop. He looked around at the parked cars and the brutal paving, then up at her. He had not been here before and was disappointed at the ground's coarse rigidity. His eyes said; "Take me somewhere else," which she understood and led him to the back of the facility, where they were greeted by gentle dirt, grass, trees and bushes, busily working on their spring growth. Prince's paws more at ease, he again surged ahead. Marian tried to keep up with him and soon saw that to do so would dictate her becoming a runner, thereby limiting their excursion to one minute. She correctly believed that both of them wanted a longer trip, so she held the leash with both hands and stopped him. He looked back at her questioningly.

She said; "I am going to walk as fast as I possibly can, but I will not break into a trot."

Prince wished he knew what she was saying. It seemed to him that she was all gung ho for this and now she was fooling him by showing some kind of hesitation.

Marian said; "Take your time. Nothing moves here. It'll be there when we get there."

Prince knew little more than he previously did, except that his friend had stopped. He looked at her to see if he could detect any anger. When he didn't he again started to move, this time more slowly, but still at a pace which required Marian to walk faster than usual. She liked the speed as it necessitated her concentrating on the hazards in the road and trying to anticipate Prince's movements to the exclusion of all else, a mindless adventure.

As soon as he got to the ditch he went down the embankment, drank and swam. He liked the cool, muddy water and wanted to spend some time there. He looked up at Marian to see her reaction. She smiled and nodded her head "Yes," giving approval he understood, as she didn't at all mind the opportunity to remain substantially motionless for a spell. Prince took his time and investigated the grassy plants sprouting at the edges, sniffing the aromatic growths. After he was thoroughly soaked, he climbed straight up the slippery siding, utilizing his hind paws for traction and balance and his front ones for progress, innovatively coordinating the two essentials.

He marched a few steps before shaking off, not wanting to get Marian drenched, as he surmised that if she desired a pre-warm weather soaking she would have followed him into the ditch. They walked down the path, at times diverting into the limited supply of surrounding brush, as Prince seemed bound to seek out every fragrance he had not yet known. He didn't find anything that kept his interest very long and he gradually picked up speed, because Marian voiced no objections. He sometimes heard a murmur of "Whoops," when they were in tall dead weeds, she temporarily losing her footing on some unseen rock or tiny piece of tree branch. While in the brush he felt his neck jerked and heard her persuasively say; "Whoa, whoa, whoa," which reminded him of someone singing the blues. However, he couldn't imagine a singer jerking his neck, so he slowed down and looked back. He saw her laboring through a series of dead branches he had just managed with ease, so he again commenced walking briskly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he heard again and he petulantly wondered what the huge problem was. Marian sensed his attitude and with a crabby sound, said in exasperation; "I can't go fast through this junk!"

Prince knew none of the words, but he understood his friend's tone to be saying "Slow down." He sighed and did ................... for a few steps and then he went back off to the races ................ for a few steps. His collar pressed against his wind pipe and he furiously turned around to see Marian shaking her head "No." He took a quick survey of the immediate surroundings and didn't see any good reason for being thwarted. His eyes opened widely and he thought; "You're fortunate that I like you. If you were Diablo you'd be getting an education in the possible placements of dog teeth."

Marian's lifetime of experience with dogs enabled her to make a reasonable estimate of Prince's posture. She didn't fear any reprisal and calmly said; "Sometimes you are just going to have to trust me and behave accordingly. At least some degree of socialization is required."

Prince was baffled. If he were able to decipher her words he would still be baffled. It would have sounded like something a school teacher says, which compels kids to look at each other with raised eyebrows and shrug their shoulders. But, he knew from the look on her face that she meant well and just maybe there are things important in the human world that he would never be able to understand. He trusted his walking companion and appreciated their journeys. The fury lost, he looked at her with an inquiring expression and stood still.

She again began moving her feet and he followed, staying a bit behind. All too soon they came to the end of the ditch path and they were confronted with paved roads with cars speeding down them. Prince stopped moving. Marian didn't notice as she was watching cars and as a result she was jerked to an abrupt stop. She didn't think that Prince would have any problem with the area, but soon suspected that he was a real country boy. His sheltered existence had not provided him with the experience of being near the rumbling of cars doing 50 miles per hour on a highway three lanes in each direction. She understood that this must be quite an intimidating sight when seen for the first time. She couldn't be certain, but what else could have caused Prince to not want to move and move quickly. To him they must look like speeded-up dinosaurs belching smoke from internal fires.

He attempted to turn back and Marian defiantly sat down. Prince was shocked, but also amused at the sight of this sixty year old woman sitting at the end of the dirt path, in full view of the passengers in the bellies of the dinosaurs. He thought; "How undignified! What if someone she knows sees her? Wait a minute. What's gotten into me? How very cool." He sat next to her and shivered, but wanted to appear to be somewhat near her bravery level, while hoping for the parade's end. She ignored him and watched the demons race by. After a few minutes Prince decided that the bigger, stronger, faster, creatures enclosed in diversely shaped and colored armor were not out to get him, thinking that if that were their goal, they could easily have attained it by now. He looked at Marian and stood up. She joined him and started to move closer to the monsters. He remained stationary, not yet ready to attempt a closer relationship with the smelly fiends. She stopped, saw his mixed feelings and gently said; "They're not interested in you. Trust me."

Prince didn't want to turn back, but he thought that what he saw in front of him left a lot to be desired. Marian chided him, saying; "I'll get in front. If they want to hit someone they'll get me first." Prince didn't know her words, but took their meaning from her action and he was embarrassed. He wanted to tell her that he was a big, brave boy, but was not yet ready to prove that with his own action. She slightly moved and Prince cautiously trailed behind, hoping that she thought his effort to be "pretty good." They walked down a paved sidewalk, no more than thirty feet from the nearest speeding cars. Their intense sound level amplified and Prince knew that his safety depended entirely on his trust of Marian. He hoped she was capable of making refined judgments. After going about 200 feet with monsters on one side and an adobe wall on the other, which he thought must have taken an hour, the path magically widened. Appearing on the side of the pavement was unfenced land. It allowed him to get another fifty feet away from the highway, ending at a severe, unexplainable twenty foot drop off. It appeared as if someone once started to gouge out land as in a strip mining operation, but quickly changed their minds, as Prince could see land beyond it at his level. And that land was full of trees!!! He instinctively sensed unlimited and unspoiled nature he never previously witnessed, unimproved by mankind, piercing the cloudless blue sky. No clearings for malls, houses or fighting arenas. Wildness reigned. He picked up speed and got back in front.
Chapter 7

In his excitement Prince temporarily forgot about Marian and as a result he soon felt his collar tighten. She was moving as quickly as she could, taking pleasure in his exuberance, but had to say; "A little slow, a little slow." Prince reduced his speed, appreciative of the fact that he would never have gotten to this place if not for her insistence. In a few steps that seemed forever and a day to him the drop off mysteriously ended, just as it had begun. They walked almost side by side toward the blossoming woodland, as Prince continued at a sluggish pace, according to his speedometer. He wanted the time to view his options, as he had never been to this complicated area before and he had countless choices to make. Before he could get into the woods, straight ahead was a ditch jam-packed with muddy water. Or he could bear right and uphill to a higher path to God knows where, or head left and hope for some marvel which wasn't in his current line of vision. Marian seemed to have no particular preference as she wasn't directing him in the least. Prince looked up to see an amused face. He wished she would take this seriously for a moment and give him some direction.

He continued to watch her, hoping she would understand and show him the short way to the paradise of the trees. She was in no hurry and seemed to be enjoying the aimless lumbering. He stopped walking and savored the free feeling of having no particular place to go. He knew he would get there eventually and if he got there slowly, it meant that he would get to be out of his cage longer. He settled into this satisfying way of thinking and all too soon Marian moved. He felt a gentle tug in no particular direction, perhaps toward the sky and he knew it was time to get up.

He still wasn't certain of his direction, but knew he had to make a choice. From past experience, he knew that Marian did not want to go through the muddy water. He didn't want to sail into the unknown on the right. So, he went left at a steady pace and hoped for a pleasant surprise. He was quickly rewarded as they found a black iron bridge traversing the water which led directly into the woods. He was elated, having made the correct choice, using only his good instincts. Marian followed him, desirous of seeing his next preferences. She had been to this spot previously and knew that all roads eventually lead to the private enclosing woods.

He scampered through twenty feet of scrubby land, oblivious to the well-worn path at his disposal. He passed between two mature cottonwood trees and stopped, startled at suddenly being substantially shaded by the many irregularly shaped branches which now surrounded him. Some reached for the heavens, some bent toward the dirt and some attempted both destinations, apparently having had a few major changes of mind. Prince walked slowly among them learning quickly that the dirt-benders are the most dangerous, as if he looked to the sky he would risk butting his head on one. If he had been here as often as Marian, he would have known their locations and warning signs preceding approach. For the safety of his skull he was obliged to keep his head and eyes to the ground, while she was free to watch birds. He didn't mind in the least as his posture afforded him access to aromas he had never before enjoyed. He made a few investigatory stops, while Marian patiently waited, wondering what it was that was so interesting down there.

Prince's feet made a minor, but, to him, unexpected slip on dead leaves. Requiring no recent precipitation, their undersides were continually wet and slimy, surreptitiously contradicting their dry and wrinkled facial appearance. Last year's glorious green sky riders now lay on the ground in complete irrelevance, serving only to impede the traveler's progress, in crinkled brown, red, or gold. Rather than each finding their own place, they tended to prefer clusters, finding safety in numbers in surface depressions. Others of a more devout nature congregated in piles, successful in having those at the top of the heap being raised a few exalted inches from the dirt, the rest buried in eternal night. An intermittent breeze invaded the wood and the well-practiced, useless ones, manipulated each gust to be an excuse to swirl a few feet from the floor, acting as a dust devil, attempting to attain, but never coming close to, their former lofty stature. Perhaps they were adept at fooling themselves into believing that they still had some significance and that if the breezes would only be courageous enough to intensify their potency to cyclone stature they would be back to their correct position. Their continual ineffective attempts caused some to sympathize with their ridiculous endeavors. The young buds on the early spring cottonwoods laughed mockingly. When the wind subsided the conclusion was always the same. The antiquated leaves always returned to their slippery underfoot position. They often switched piles and served as only a temporary, spiteful annoyance to those progressing through their unconcealed graves. As a testimony to their senselessness and lack of vision they did not know that soon the merciless, scorching, summer sun would perform their cremation. Old uniforms choose to die hard and the pigheaded, obsolete leaves that might be considered fortunate landed in the river, to be carried away to a destination unknown.

Prince observed this phenomenon, annoyed that the bands of circling leaves had the audacity to infest his area. He charged at one, only to find that it had no substance, akin to an evil spirit. He smirked derisively after passing through its nothingness and saw the dead fall back down to their fleeting, proper place. He frantically explored the ground in an attempt to find one and put it out of its misery, but to his color blind eyes they all looked the same. He looked at Marian searchingly, as if to say; "What's this garbage all about?" She couldn't surmise his exact phraseology, but got the general idea. After spending a lifetime with elusive, obsolete, uncaring spirits she concisely laughed, then smiled at him, admiring his youthful instincts. She furiously patted his upward glancing head and disclosed; "You'll never know the half of it." And he wouldn't and couldn't.

Prince and Marian made their way through the trees slowly and then for the first time he saw the Rio Grande River. He was in awe of the size. It was as brown as the ditch water, but it had a faster flow. Great islands inhabited its center, seemingly impervious to the current. He wondered who lived there and how they came and went without being soaked. He descended a small, rocky embankment and stood at the edge. Marian followed, effectively using the rocks as stairs. He looked back at her and she nodded affirmatively telling him that he could go in if he wanted to. He immersed himself. The level was higher than that he had experienced in the ditch, forcing him to do a doggy paddle in some spots. He felt uneasy when the rushing water went over his head. He lost sight of the fact that Marian had the chain well in hand and could easily pull him back if need be.

Prince came out of the water with co-operative chain guidance and direction provided by his friend, making the successful exit from the surging water easily. He suddenly noticed that he was very tired and hungry. He had been up almost all night and had no breakfast before heading out with Marian. He started to briskly walk back the way he had come, but Marian didn't feel that she was through with her intended hike and held him back. He turned to see what the problem was and came up blank. He wished he could tell her his needs, but words failed him. He widened his eyes and motioned with his head, but all she could gather from that was his desire to leave and not the reason why.

She was adamant about spending more time with him and let him take the lead a while to see if he might just want to backtrack a bit. She knew of a spot she wanted to show him, further out, where after going through a narrow pass, more natural woodland was available for exploration. He hurriedly went further than she wished and she again brought him to a halt. He felt the collar tighten and he thought; "Oh, no. Why is she teasing me? I don't understand."

Marian didn't understand either. Prince was out on his feet and not knowing how to communicate that, he did what came naturally. He sprawled out on the dirt, sighed and closed his eyes. His front and back paws were tucked under his body and his chin was flat to the ground. "Cute," she thought and sat next to him stroking his back. He made a low resigned groan and minimally re-positioned himself, moving no more than a wearying eighth of an inch. Marian now knew half of the reasons for his strange behavior. She thought; "But, why should he be tired? This was far from a long walk for a young puppy."

Prince rolled onto his side, ready to settle into a long slumber, while Marian continued to curiously observe him. Her mind was on him, in an attempt to see things from whatever possible point of view he may have. She was unable to come up with anything which was capable of passing any degree of scrutiny, so rather than spend the morning with a sleeping puppy, she decided to defer to his wishes. She stood and gently tugged at his collar. One eye gave her a discerning look and then he realized that she might be amenable to going back. He jumped up, started walking briskly and pulled her back the way they came. She walked as fast as she could and almost kept up with him without having to tug.

She opened the back door and he burst through, going directly to his cage. He went in still attached to his chain, as a result of which his entry jostled the cage, spinning it around. Fortunately the enclosure's floor position evaded a disastrous crash and merely re-positioned its placement, giving Prince a different point of view. Unexplainably, Marian found the entire operation comical. She reached into the now voluntary prison and with difficulty removed her chain and put it back in her jacket pocket where it waited for its next endeavor. Prince made a low, non-threatening groan indicating that he desperately needed to sleep regardless of his humanly imposed impediment. He didn't care in the least whether he was with or without his cumbersome supposed limitation. To Prince it was easily adaptable with Marian.

Marian stood up and saw fourteen curious canine eyes watching the activities. While she was accustomed to this kind of surveillance, it was unusual to also see eight human eyes concentrating on her or perhaps on her tired walking partner. Two especially lively hazel ones belonged to a little girl with long dirty blond hair.

Polly glared at the digital microwave chronometer and wondered if time were standing still. It seemed to take so long to advance; she considered the possibility that the modern surrogate was dead. Appearance suggested so. The red dots which formed imperfect representations of real numbers defiantly blushed half-heartedly, as if the stupid machine knew that it didn't have to prove itself, now being the only game in town. It took an eternity to soundlessly register one whole minute's advance. She wished that there were a true timepiece in the room, complete with twelve numbers, three hands and miniscule clicking. She could be assured of its life by viewing and hearing the quickly moving second pointer announcing sixty moves per minute.

To abort the dead silence she drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, her drumsticks feeling the coldness provided by its glossy composite finish. "Composite of what?" she thought. "Ice and junk?" She had spoken to her mother about this previously and was assured that it was "efficient," meaning easy to clean. Polly suspected that another, perhaps more important consideration was that it was cheap; "economically priced" in current parlance. Polly could not tolerate the chill its feel provided and consequently wore long sleeves when dining there, even in July.

Despite the wan red digital display's lack of interest, matching that of today's early spring sun in intensity, she was impatient for her parents' arrival. "They always manage to be early when I have to go somewhere I don't want to go; like school and the dentist. But, now, when I'm anxious to get moving they take their sweet time."

She wondered if they were purposely being perverse, when Mom and Dad entered the kitchen, laughing uproariously with their arms around each other. Surprised to see Polly already there they became subdued and used their hands to retie their bathrobes.

Polly was not in a cheerful mood, fixated on her desire to get going and escaping the cold, now intensified by her parents' frivolity. She sternly said; "What's so funny?"

Mom and Dad looked at each other, each hoping the other had a good reply. Neither volunteered and that led to another fit of laughter, this time more abbreviated. When decorum was restored Mom said; "Your father just said something funny."

Polly replied; "I could use a good laugh. Tell me."

Mom grimaced and said; "It's got a whole context that would take forever to explain."

Polly opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get any words out Dad came to his wife's rescue by changing the subject and replied in a very businesslike tone; "So, my little one is up early today."

Mom's eyes opened widely as she looked at her husband. She started to laugh uncontrollably and almost doubled over with her hands on her knees.

Dad looked at Mom quizzically at first, then realized what she was laughing at. He put his left hand on his chest and started laughing too, shaking his head from side to side, as if to say; "That was an accident."

Polly now thought that she had an idea of the source of her parents' good humor; completely unexplainable nonsense. She asked; "Are you both nuts?"

Without consulting their partner's facial expressions, Mom and Dad, rapidly shook their heads "Yes," both able to curtail their laughter, offering only the slightest hint of a stifled smile. They walked to the kitchen counter. Dad got the coffee machine going and Mom heated up some frozen "South Texas' Finger Lickin' Good Sausage and Eggs" frozen breakfasts in the microwave, which efficiently did what it was supposed to and ended with five beeps, its first declarations of the day.

Everyone ate silently and soon the trio was in Mom's car on the way to the shelter; Mom driving, Dad reclining to her right and Polly, eyes beaming, excitedly on the edge of the wide back seat. Mom parked the Saab directly in front of the shelter and the group exited. Polly surveyed the area, wrinkled her nose at the gift shops and "potpourri" outlets in the strip mall and said; "What a strange place to keep dogs. I thought we'd be going somewhere that looked like a farm."

Mom and Dad simultaneously shrugged. Dad adjusted the zipper of his cream corduroy jacket as he retorted; "Progress. Just like that brainless microwave." He paused to watch Polly's reaction. Obtaining a giggle he decided to try something he had initially chosen to withhold; the touchy part of his agenda. He said; "Now, don't say anything embarrassing when we get inside. In fact, say as little as possible. We don't want to accidentally insult anyone. Let me do the talking. People get confused when they think there are three decision makers; so let them think that it's me."

Polly calmly nodded her head, well aware from past experience that Dad had a big thing about external appearances. She had grown up with this oddity and had found it merely that; an oddity. She knew that when push comes to shove she always got her way and didn't mind playing his little game. However, Mom's life was different. Mom wasn't accustomed to hearing the thought so overtly spoken and had an aversion to playing the obedient little wifey in public. She glowered at Dad. When she was certain she had his attention, she deadpanned; "I guess you also think that applies to me."

Dad knew his attempt at a small, reasoned subterfuge had touched a nerve. Mom stopped walking on the thin sidewalk in front of the pooch emporium's huge glass front window and was looking at him with a face that displayed annoyance, apprehensiveness and amusement. He thought; "Uh oh. The three deadly A's. And right in the middle of the mall in front of a merciless window. Visibility from every angle." He too stopped walking.

Polly continued a few more steps, but seeing that she had lost her entourage also stopped and looked back at the two, wondering exactly what their problem was. Her only concern was that she hoped that nothing had happened at the last minute that would foul up her getting a dog.

The last thing Dad wanted to do was have a public discussion of who was in charge right in the middle of town, being witnessed by local busybodies. He thought the best move he had available was to get inside as quickly as possible. If he was in a position where he would have to openly demonstrate his lack of total manly authority, it was preferable to have some semblance of privacy in the shelter. He held Mom's forearm and with clenched teeth said under his breath; "For Christ's sake. Do you have to start right here?"

Mom's eyes widened as she pulled her forearm free and with full voice she said; "It wasn't me who started."

Their attention turned to a late model Chrysler parking right in front of them, despite having virtually unlimited options in the sparsely populated lot. It was Mr. and Mrs. Rulestone from Camino De Lucia, the central participants in the neighborhood gossip mill. In their seventies they didn't go out much, but when they did they happened to do it at just the right time. Mom and Dad considered them weird as Mr. Rulestone always had an unlit cigar in his mouth and a perpetual grin prompted by nothing discernible to anyone else. Mrs. Rulestone also had a constant expression. She wrinkled her nose as if she was smelling something foul, necessitating regular re-positioning of her tiny eyeglass frames. Between them, they weighed about 550 pounds, his girth slightly superior, or at least that's the way it appeared in their loose nondescript clothes.

Dad sighed and tried to make a break for it. Thinking that it would take the porkers some time to elevate from their car, he took a few steps toward the shelter's front door, hoping that Mom and Polly would follow. He could always say that he didn't recognize the two rotundities because of their tinted windows. But they both managed to move like NFL fullbacks and Mr. Rulestone bellowed a cheery; "'Morning."

Dad had a tiny pet peeve; the penchant of many locals to say 'morning rather than the entirety of good morning. It didn't seem as if they had so busy a day that it required the shortening of a proper greeting. Or perhaps they didn't want it to be good. He lowly mumbled sarcasm, only audible to Polly; "Thanks. I thought it was the so-and-so afternoon myself." Polly laughed and Mom decided to irk him more than she had already by un-customarily saying; "'Morning," in a mock-cheery tone and a mini-smile which ended in a fraction of a second.

Mrs. Rulestone heightened the degree of wrinkle in her nose and said something containing sufficient volume, yet indecipherable. Its tone suggested the toleration of some kind of disgust. She adjusted her glasses while her eyes wildly fluttered.

Mr. Rulestone directed his conversation to Dad and grinning maniacally with the sun in his face said; "What was that?"

Expecting something like that, unflustered Dad said; "Good looking dogs in the place." He pointed in their direction and added; "I was talking to Polly. A gracious good morning to you, sir. How are you this fine day?" Mom chuckled slightly. Dad thought he might be on a roll, so he continued; "Going to Nunzio's Native American Chinese Imports?"

Mrs. Rulestone made an uglier than usual face and Mr. Rulestone kept his grin, rolled the cigar around and said; "Yes, sir. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Dad said; "Then why did you park in front of the dog shelter?" No response came, other than a grin and a wrinkle. Dad added; "Exercise?"

Mr. Rulestone took his wife by the forearm, said; "Off to Nunzio's. Have a great day," and commenced their fifty foot trek with a left stumble.

Mom and Dad weakly said; "You too," poked each other and started laughing, the minor quibble about appearances put in its proper place by worse ones.

Polly again didn't understand her parents' sense of humor. This time a change from an impending storm to apparent sunshine also baffled her. She said; "Are you both nuts?"

Mom and Dad silently and energetically nodded "Yes," bobbing their heads up and down, as they opened the door and entered.

They walked directly to the caged dogs. Their first reaction was one of sympathy as each greeted them enthusiastically, some licking offered hands. They got over the sadness, realizing that they would be doing their helping part in taking one home. They got to Prince and unlike the others he paid them no attention. He was a bit annoyed at the rude disturbance, roused for a second, made a low plaintiff brief growl and slammed his head back down on the padded part of the cage floor.

Polly smiled and looked at her folks saying; "Just like you, Dad. .......... He's pretty."

Dad nervously looked around the room to see who was within earshot.

Polly understood his discomfort and tried to assuage it by saying; "I only meant 'just like you' in the way he insists on sleeping when he needs to. You're not pretty like him ...... I mean you're not ugly ...... I mean ......"

Dad retorted; "Shut up, Polly. But he's not particularly friendly, like me." Dad stuck his tongue out playfully to take the edge off "shut up."

Polly shrugged in agreement, but kept watching the Dalmatian's belly heave in and out displaying a healthy use of oxygen. She murmured; "We'll see when he gets up." Mom and Dad walked to the other cages thinking that something unexpected and un-envisioned might be noticed, directing them to the right dog.

Dad thought; "It would have to be sizable, but not overwhelming for my eighty pound daughter. It would have to be sufficiently aggressive to attack someone threatening to Polly, but willing to be obedient to her commands. It would be best if it had a strutting, confident appearance to keep potential predators at a distance. Bullies always seek out the ones which won't fight back and avoid those which will. I had been told that by my father a long time ago and my experience confirmed that it was 100% true. I realize that the totality of my requirements is asking a lot from a "dumb" animal and that we might have to settle for something short of perfection. Huge revelation; name one thing that is perfect. Maybe death, but that's irrelevant today; the possible subject of a PBS philosophically disguised, sophistristic discussion show one might engage when totally depressed with nothing to do. In the moment's requirement of practicality the dog my daughter requires must be big, but not overly so; aggressive, but not disobedient; confident, but not standoffish; co-operative, but not unable to act quickly; and I suppose most of all, very smart. How many "very smart" humans have I encountered, let alone a dog? Perhaps smart would make up for other deficiencies in the one assigned the job of being my daughter's companion and protector. How do I gauge that? I didn't prepare a test. I didn't bring pencil and paper."

Polly was still near Prince and started to reach her hand into his prison to pet him, when Debby yelled out; "Don't do that! He's unpredictable!" Dad snapped out of his contradictory and lengthy distillation attempt. Polly jumped back, startled by the loud voice. Mom quietly observed. Prince remained oblivious to the world. Debby scooted over efficiently and added; "He was a fighting dog. Though I have gotten a few reports that he is strangely co-operative at times, it's best to be careful."

Polly backed away, her eyes on the warrior. She looked for evidence of wounds and seeing none considered the possibility that Debby might be misinformed. It was either that or he was able to win every fight and manage to remain unscathed, the equivalent of a young Mohammed Ali. Of course, all she saw was external.

Debby introduced herself and typical opening pleasantries were exchanged. When she asked what type of dog they wanted; Dad and Polly had more than a few words to say, the net result of which added up to "Superdog." Mom was silent and made obviously sarcastic smiles whenever Debby looked her way. Debby was unfazed with the unreasonable requirements, as she found out through years of experience that was the answer the majority of the time.

Debby suggested that they take possible candidates out for walks, which the family spent the next hour and a half doing. Though they liked them all none seemed close to fitting the bill. In their desire to please and be obedient it seemed as if they had simultaneously lost their sense of aggression and curiosity. Each dog was content to remain at the leash holder's side and despite seeing rabbits, squirrels and other dogs, acted as if they wore blinders. Mom and Dad knew that this docile behavior could be the result of prolonged abuse, but each time the thought crossed their minds they did their best to get it out quickly, not wanting to visualize the possibilities. They always succeeded in converting the thought to another; the possibility of being trained to death; an improvement over abuse, but also no pretty picture. The most encouraging thought they could conjure up was the possibility that the dogs knew how to behave to please most people and did so to effect an adoption, then planned to gradually re-assert their individuality after going home. Polly just found them boring.

Since the dog had to be Polly's guardian, Dad tried to determine if they had any instinct to protect her. First announcing his plan, he had Polly hold the leash as he pretended to attack her. Each dog watched the action as if it were another boring TV "reality show" unreality.

Everyone agreed that this wouldn't do. While Mom and Dad spoke of other places they might try, Polly insisted on giving Prince the opportunity others had denied him. After they got the last dog back inside Polly got three unanimous objections, but didn't care. She sat down on the floor of the shelter and announced that she was not going anywhere until she got to walk Prince. The pup had recuperated and was now awake, intently watching the human program, totally foreign to him, but interesting in its similarity to his own occasional displays of passive resistance. Most importantly he desperately needed someone to take him to the bathroom. He pawed at the cage door. When Polly's initial ploy was greeted by her being lifted and carried toward the exit, she used her socially-conscious-Daddy-supplied trump card and told him that if she didn't get her walk with the Dalmatian she would tell the entire neighborhood, starting with the Rulestones, that he cooked and cleaned the house under Mom's supervision.

Up until now Mom had been quiet, not wanting it to appear to an outsider that she had anything to do with the household decision making process. But she couldn't help making a small laugh and quickly stifled it. She decided that she should do her duty to protect her sensitive husband and said; "Oh Polly, where did you get that nonsense from?" She put her hand over her mouth to inadequately hide another chuckle. Dad shot her a look one normally reserves for surprise dog doo doo. Prince was near earning the distinction and wondered what all the inactivity was about. Debby stared at the group, not having a clue as to what would come next. Dad did another quick assessment of damage control. He was certain that one outsider had heard part of his delicate, partially truthful, but not for human consumption familial status and there was nothing he could do about that. He was shocked that Polly would go for the social throat as she did, especially when she had never previously shown any interest in the subject. He didn't yet comprehend that it was precisely her disdain for "manners," as practiced by adults, that allowed her to use their absurdities to her advantage. She had been taught that good manners reflect good sense, but found that the reality was that they were more often used as a weapon. In dire circumstances she wasn't above gun slinging. Dad was surprised that she understood enough to anticipate the effectiveness of her ploy. He chuckled the way executives do when they get caught in a clear contradiction of a previous proclamation, as if the listener were too unsophisticated to glean the precise nuance of the cutting edge brilliance, but most importantly to Polly, he let go of her. Polly showed a nasty grin and sat back down on the floor.

Debby thought it appropriate to come to the aid of the other adults in the room and said; "I can't let you take him out. There is a fair chance that he's dangerous and I don't want to be sued for damages," as she wondered who would be the first person with whom she could discuss Mr. Thatcher's amusing subservient proclivities.

Polly didn't fully understand her stated objection, but considered that irrelevant. She angrily said; "So what are you going to do? Stop everyone from possibly adopting him and then have him euthanized? Why is he here?" Prince got on his hind legs, used his claws to scratch at his door and emitted a small yelp, as if to say; "Please take me out of here," but only thinking in terms of the tree right outside the back door.

The situation was a clear impasse for all participants, each with a differing agenda, ridiculous because at the root of the whole messy affair was a commonly held goal of getting a homeless dog adopted. A wily conspirator could not have engineered a better plot than the natural forces of human nonsense had decreed mindlessly. Those involved stared nervously at each other, each hoping that the ball was in someone else's court. Prince's position was the simplest. He wished that the first set would soon be over, so that he could utilize the break for a very, very necessary side trip.

Scratch. Scratch. Whoosh. Blam. All eyes turned to the sound coming from the back door and they silently watched Marian walk in with Candide, a small terrier mix in tow. She put him back in his cage with small difficulty, then turned to see all eyes on her, as if they expected her to do something. She was amused and puzzled. She felt mindless and decided to oblige. So she imitated Groucho Marx smoking an imaginary cigar and nasally said; "I wouldn't want to belong to any club that would accept me," as she flaked off the make-believe ashes at eye level. The hush and gape persisted, so she joined the dumbfounded club and gawked back, with wide popping eyes. She then received polite laughter from Mom, Dad and Debby. Prince and Polly, not feeling the requirement of social correctness, continued to stare questioningly, not showing the slightest degree of appreciation. Marian looked at the group and saw that rather than tomorrow being Easter, it was silly season and acted accordingly. She shrugged her shoulders, extended her arms to each side and said; "What is this? The white version of 'The Temptations?' Choreography's in sync, but it could use a bit more movement." She used a mock baritone voice to sing; "I've got darkness on a sunny day. And when it's warm outside December is on the way." She grimaced and reflected for a second, then said; "Never mind. It's still April, isn't it?" This time the audience didn't feel obliged to make even polite displays of appreciation. Marian shrugged and said; "Okay, show me better."

Polly pointed at Prince and yelled; "I want to walk that dog."

Marian didn't understand why that was a problem, but seeing that the little girl was upset became serious and said; "Okay, let's go walk him." Polly got back on her feet and proceeded to Prince's cage. Mom, Dad and Debby all started talking at once, none saying anything of substance. Each stopped, extended their palms to the others and politely offered the floor, excusing themselves. They then proceeded to now stare at each other in open-mouthed flabbergasted silence. As the mesmerized trio admired the nearest available nostril hair, Marian put her long chain leash on Prince and went out the back door with Polly.

Prince pulled Marian to the nearest tree and breathed a sigh of relief as he deposited a year's supply of fly food. He turned his head toward them as if to say; "That was a close one. Someone should be paying better attention. Whew." Marian gave Polly the handgrip and said; "Take him. He shouldn't be too bad now." The child took the reins and Prince moved on, often looking back to see if the little one was able to stay with him. He saw that she wasn't a lot bigger than he was. Of course, she was much taller on her hind legs, but he visualized her on all fours, thereby with only the slightest advantage.

He started out slowly; that is by his standards. She was required to move quickly to keep up, but she seemed to enjoy the challenge. When he felt the chain become taut he would ease up and look back to determine her status. He went directly to the ditch in hopes of a drink and swim, but Polly halted him at the water's edge by squatting down and leaning back, yelling; "Stop. Stop." With minor difficulty Prince could have kept going, but he didn't want to cause Polly to fall on her face. Still, he was exasperated at the denial of a wish he now thought standard. He turned to her and made a brief guttural growl. Polly recalled what Debby said about him and became afraid. She turned wide-eyed to Marian, who calmly said; "Let him go in."

She eased up and Prince entered the shallow muddy water, somewhat disappointed that it wasn't as deep as it was on his previous dunks allowed by Marian. He went back and forth; Polly following him onshore with no small difficulty as the leash was stretched to its limit.

Marian saw the problem and told her young canine fan that the process would become easier with practice.

Polly was trying not to be immersed as the temperature was only fifty degrees, yet Prince's movements made her come close to going in head first. Each time she had to unwillingly jerk his neck to remain on shore. She asked Marian; "What am I doing wrong?"

Marian hesitated answering as she thought that in time Polly would find her own natural method of performing the delicate balancing act, but as Polly continued to seem concerned about her youthful expertise, she grudgingly said; "Well, for one thing try not to wrap the chain around his neck. When he goes right use your left and when he turns left use your right. That will give him maximum leeway and you won't have to worry about drowning. You'll figure out the rest when you need to. If you pay attention to him you'll see that he's sending signals."

"What if I don't like his signals?"

"Before, when you said; 'Stop. Stop.' he did just that. He'll understand the words now that they've been established." Marian was careful to use the word "understand" rather than "obey."

"That easy?"

"Yeah. As time goes by you'll find more words he'll understand." Marian paused, hesitant to give her next thought, but decided that Polly would eventually surmise anyway. "I've been out with him a few times and he's an unusually co-operative yet stubborn dog, if that makes any sense."

It didn't for now. Polly's attention was drawn back to Prince as he was through with his lengthy frolic and was climbing the ditch bank. Prince intended to stay in the water a longer time, but thought it prudent to join the two females he was certain were talking about him. He didn't want any misunderstandings so early in the trip and sought the opportunity to amend any incorrect notions. Instincts told him that women talking together without the company of a male was dangerous to all concerned. They might conclude that since he liked water that he was a swimmer, when this was not the truth at all. Though he was capable of doing a competent doggy paddle, he preferred keeping his feet on the ground, walking, the majority of the time and completing with a short swim. If he entered a three foot water level he would attempt to walk on it and consequently he thought he would more appropriately be termed a multitalented wader with a preference. While that might sound nitpicky to some it had significance to him. He thought that Polly did a pretty good job for a first effort, wagged his tail and looked up at her. She bent to pet him and he licked her face. In excitement he shook off, getting part of the spray on Polly. She giggled at the shock of it. It seemed to empty her head, yet at the same time she strangely felt completely awake.

However, her father, who apparently had recovered from his inertia was walking toward them and from the look on his face didn't like the activity one little bit. Mom was at his side and didn't advertise her thoughts one way or the other, as she was doing her best to refrain from publicly disagreeing with her closet liberated husband. She considered aping his sentiments, but realized that he might change his mind, or might have his mind changed for him by potent passing public perceptions, that change-resistant formidable social force, hereinafter referred to as PPPP, for the sake of brevity and because the sound seems appropriate.

A gentle western zephyr traumatized the still morning destroying the logic-inducing calm. Adequate strength was not provided to form dust devils. Rather the leaves scampered on the ground until some floated away in ditch water or the yet unseen river.

Dad walked quickly, getting ahead of Mom. Angrily, he called out in a demanding voice; "What's going on here?"

Only audible to Polly and Prince, Marian muttered; "Jesus Christ. What does it look like?"

Polly didn't know what he was referring to. So, in a questioning lilting voice she replied; "Walking Prince?"

Mom said nothing and appeared as normal as she ever did.

Dad stepped up to Polly and yelled; "Don't get smart with me, little girl. You know exactly ...........

Prince interrupted him with two loud barks and got between father and daughter.

Dad's voice descended to a lower than usual volume and he finished his sentence; "what I mean," his eyes on Prince's fangs, who emitted a long low; "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

Polly gave Prince a tug and said; "Stop. Stop." Prince showed reluctance, switching his gaze from Polly to Dad, again and again, but got quiet.

Dad backed up a few steps and his boldness returned. In a tone normally reserved for disobedient employees, he stated; "It's a bit cold and early in the day to have him getting you wet." He emphasized the word "him" and at the same time waved his hand in Polly and Prince's direction. Prince went right for it, mouth wide open and was unsuccessful in attaining his target only because Polly had shortened her grip on the leash, resulting in him going a bit to the left rather than directly at Dad. Polly screamed; "Stop. Stop." Prince understood her words and reluctantly respected her wishes, but looked in her eyes as if to say; "Why?" He sat next to her feet and watched the seeming predator.

Dad also understood the words and thought they were directed at him. He reluctantly respected her wishes, but looked in her eyes as if to say; "Why?" He remained on his feet and watched the seeming predator.

Mom broke a few seconds silence by saying; "He is very obedient."

Now that the confrontation had subsided, Marian's silly side resurfaced and she impassively queried; "To which one are you referring?"

Mom smirked and immediately wished she had not. Dad's eyes alternated between the two adult females, wanting to laugh, but not feeling completely comfortable in doing so, his case of PPPP rearing its ugly head. However, instead of standing there looking stupid and offended he skirted the issue. He pursued another line of thought that wasn't really another line of thought and said; "He looks like a damn good guard dog. That's what we want, right?" He scanned the audience for a reaction and though he could not detect any objections; the agreements were unenthusiastic.

The only one present who knew anything definitive about Prince didn't understand the commentary and if he had, he was not inclined to converse with the enemy. Consequently there was silence and Dad offered a suggestion; "Why don't we all walk with him a while. Maybe he's the one."

The group took a few steps and Prince and Dad were paying more attention to each other than they did the ground. First Prince stumbled and then Dad did. Dad said; "Wait a minute. I want to try something. Polly, come over here and give me a cuddle and a big kiss."

Polly thought that things were breaking in her direction and didn't want to risk fouling it up by denying her Dad a very public display of affection. She cackled as she did what was asked of her in absurd, over-the-top enthusiasm and Prince curiously looked at both of them thinking; "Are you both nuts?" Dad showed an intent Prince his right open hand. He turned his palm to the cloudless sky. Despite the sun's early season reluctance to burn on all cylinders its effort was commendable, no sarcasm intended, as an actor past his prime well playing a role written for one much younger, a dearth of talented fledglings the sorrowful reason. He slowly moved his hand to Prince's head and petted, first gently, then with more gusto. Dad used a babyish voice to say; "What's going on here, fella?" Prince thought; "What's going on here, fella?"

The group went down the flat dirt path. It seemed natural for Prince to be out in front as he was pulling Polly at a pace that challenged her ability to keep up with him and the others quickly saw that they would only serve as hindrances to the two main players. They found it heartwarming to see someone so openly and intently enjoying doing something. It served as a contrast to the blasé, self-anointed sophisticates they daily endured. No one except Prince had any idea of where they wanted to go anyway and they were interested to see the digressions which caught his interest. When Prince veered a bit toward the ditch, Dad said to Polly; "Can you try to keep him out of the water? It's a bit too chilly."

Polly shook her head and said; "I'll try, but he's used to it. It'll be confusing to him if I stop him now."

Dad grumbled a sound something like; "Grmmmmm," and Prince happily purred; "Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm."

They walked on making a few minor expeditions into brush, led by the black and white one when he detected a scent worthy of closer investigation. At a momentary pause, as they watched Prince paw at and sniff the fur remains of a raccoon which coyotes had killed and eaten a while back Mom asked Marian; "What do you know about this dog?"

Tempted to truthfully say; "Not much," but deciding that would appear unfriendly, unproductive or evasive Marian retorted; "I've only walked with him a few brief times prior to today. I'm told he was a fighting dog, whatever that precisely means. It seems to me that almost all dogs will fight under the right circumstances. I've not had any real trouble with him. He seems to have a stubborn streak and at the same time is cooperative. Does that make any sense?"

Mom snorted and said; "Sure, I'm married."

Dad liked that one. He smiled and nodded.

Prince preferred his furry find.

Polly didn't quite understand Mom's response and she again thought Marian contradictory, but didn't wish to pursue either line of thought as she considered it more useful to catch her breath during the temporary pause.

Feeling well and in remission of his PPPP, Dad used the opportunity to play out one of his favorite fantasies; that of being a TV defense attorney. He thundered; "So, your honor I submit that there is no evidence of my client having fought with anyone. Is that correct?" He looked at the nearby faces. He received no argument, but did see some wrinkled brows. He continued; "No scars? ...... No dead bodies? ...... No broken limbs? ...... No maimed? ...... No hospital reports? ...... No testimony? ...... Your honor, I submit that the prosecution has not made any case at all and that you have no other choice than to find my client not guilty." He grandly bowed.

With the exception of the one with his face in the fur everyone was staring at Dad. Mom finally said; "He tried to attack you, counselor."

Dad promptly and confidently replied; "But I didn't testify, oh ye of little legal knowledge."

Marian was glad to see that Dad was playing her game. She flicked the imaginary ashes from her imaginary cigar and said; "When the magic duck comes down you'll get the final question. Whatever it is I'm agin it."

Mom freaked out. The possible imminent finality sounded ominous and she thought of the literary apocalypse. She mock-screamed; "Fire! Fire! Fire everywhere! Books burning! Inconsequential TV everywhere! I repent! Please forgive me!" She fell to the ground back up and covered the front of her head with her hands. Dad got next to her also hiding his expression and proceeded to imprecisely mumble something only Mom could hear.

Marian laughed as she said; "Now for fifty bucks and a trip to Hackensack; what is the capital of Geneva?"

It was a moment of perfect clarity. Polly considered saying; "Are you all nuts?" but thought it obviously trite. They all were unambiguously from Jupiter. Prince reserved judgment thinking canine-logically that more evidence was required. At the very least it would buy him more time for his pleasant pursuit.

A dark Spanish traveler became visible. He was a few hundred feet to the east with the sun in his face, wearing huge shades which totally obscured his eyes, if in fact he did have eyes. His brown, short haired hound paralleled his steps, or vice-versa. Mom and Dad stood and brushed off the dirt that the other had accumulated, Dad's PPPP ignited by the possible view of a stranger. Marian sighed visibly and blinked her eyes a few times in an attempt to restore the proper perspective. Prince seemed to get anxious and he slowly started walking toward the stranger in a semi-crouch, ready to spring. Polly wasn't happy with his position but walked behind him sluggishly. She thought that a significant test might be coming.

As they got closer the stranger called out; "Who is this?"

"I'm Polly and this is Prince." She noticed his knee high well used leather boots. "Who are you?"

"Emanuel Cortez." He laughed and Polly didn't understand why.

Polly said; "This is a new dog for me and I'm not sure what he's going to do."

"He should do what you tell him."

Polly thought; "One of those," and attempted to turn Prince around to avoid any possible conflict. He would have none of it and continued on in his crouched posture, eyes intently on the other dog. When they were fifty feet apart and on a collision course Polly said; "Is your dog friendly?"

Cortez adjusted his deep blue woolen skull cap, stroked his long black beard, continued his laughing demeanor and said; "Pioneer is friendly if I tell him to be. He'll also attack if I give the right signal. He likes a good fight."

Polly decided that Cortez' laughing demeanor was feigned and did some faking of her own. She said; "Prince was bred as a fighting dog and he hasn't lost yet. I wish I could better control him."

Cortez removed Pioneer's leash and the dog ran right for Prince and Polly. Polly didn't see any other option and released Prince. The two dogs met leaping with drooling mouths opened. They glanced off each other retaining their balance. Without any difficulty Prince faked right and went left burying his teeth in Pioneer's neck. He violently twisted his head and Pioneer fell to the ground with Prince straddling him, biting down as hard as he could.

Cortez yelled; "Get that dog. Get that dog."

Polly thought that Cortez should have kept his own dog in tow and didn't like his commanding tone instructing her to fix a problem he had caused. On the other hand she really didn't want to see a bloody dead dog and she didn't want Prince to get into any trouble. She grabbed Prince's collar and said; "Stop. Stop." Incredulously Prince looked into her eyes and she again said; "Stop. Stop." Prince wished she would make up her mind once and for all. It's not wise to fight, then not fight as who knows what comes next. But when he saw the worry on her face he let go of Pioneer's neck and moved away keeping an eye on the challenger.

The rest of Polly's entourage was right at the scene and watched Pioneer slowly stand and sheepishly allow his master to replace his leash. He was bleeding, but far from profusely. Emanuel shook his head and said; "I think I have damages."

Dad said; "Your dog attacked mine. You're lucky you still have a dog." Polly patted Prince's confused head when she heard her father call Prince "mine."

Emanuel rubbed the back of his neck and said; "I don't know man. I've got vet bills and mental considerations. This is the service dog for me. I'm blind and appear very sympathetic in court."

Dad said; "You don't look blind to me."

Cortez removed his gigantic shades, showed two squinty eyes and said; "Legally, I am. As to the events, it's your word against mine."

Marian popped in irately saying; "I'm a witness. I don't even know these people. I saw you instruct your dog to attack theirs. They should take you to court for something."

Emanuel shrugged and continued on with his bleeding dog. Dad felt like getting in one more warning to the scam artist and yelled; "Next time I'll let my dog kill yours."

Cortez didn't turn around, silently again shrugging his shoulders, on his way back where he came from, without the gold.

Everyone got on their knees near Prince and petted him all over, telling him what a great dog he is. Prince understood and appreciated what they were trying to communicate, but couldn't figure out what exactly they were so thrilled about. He thought; "First they tell me to get the invader and then they tell me to let him go. Are they nuts? Maybe. But, I'm glad that they like me. I'll try to figure out why. It seems like they want me to see grays. Don't they know that my canine vision limits me to black and white?"

As Dad finished petting a happy but bewildered Prince, he called out; "That's my puppy." He was both happy with Prince's behavior and desirous of showing Marian that he was a decision maker.

Polly quickly said; "He's my puppy."

Mom added; "Mine too."

It was obvious to the family and Marian that they'd be taking Prince home with them and the group thought that the purpose of the trial walk was over. For some illogical reason they assumed that Prince knew the adoption game and would be happy to be on his way to a home of his own. They also wanted to get him settled into his new surroundings before nightfall, anticipating some unforeseen difficulty. The group walked a short distance to the highway. Now accustomed to the harmless demons Prince wanted to pass through and get into the woods. Mom, Dad and Polly didn't think the area looked inviting and wanted to turn back. Prince felt the leash tighten and he looked back puzzled. "This can't be," he thought. "When I didn't want to go through here Marian insisted that I should. Now that I want to do it they say no. What's up? Maybe they made a mistake." He tried to again move and felt the tight collar. Polly said; "Stop. Stop." Prince thought; "Signal clear as a bell. But, I want to get into the woods and I'm in no rush to return to my cage." Polly tried to lead him back and he sat down. She cajoled; "C'mon Prince, time to go home." He gave her an indignant look that said; "Don't you dare pull me. You said you liked me."

Mom said; "Uh oh."

Dad grabbed the leash and jerked it. Prince remained stationary and made a low growl.

Dad said; "Uh oh."

Countless thoughts raced through Polly's mind as she started to envision the loss of something she had seconds prior taken for granted. Her eyes widened in disappointment.

Marian dismissively said; "What is everyone getting so excited about? I've told you that he can be strangely stubborn and cooperative at the same time. I've already had success with this. We should all sit down and show him that we can be as stubborn as he is." She sat near Prince and rubbed his back. Mom looked at Dad and Polly, shrugged, raised her eyebrows and sat, quickly joined by the rest of the family.

Prince thought; "Looks familiar. I'm glad they're not trying to force me. It must be time to go back. I'll make them happy, but I'll do it slowly. Besides, I'm hungry anyway." He rose and waited for the others to also do so. When everyone was on their feet he walked at half speed taking a better look at his surroundings than he had previously. He was neither happy nor sad. He felt gray. He was so slow by the standards to which he had accustomed his human friends that they led him most of the way, seemingly trading the front position.

They got him inside through the front door and he turned toward his cage. He was surprised Polly led him in another direction; toward Debby at her desk holding a telephone to one ear. Prince was resigned and curious. He shrugged and thought; "I've come this far. I may as well go the rest of the way as she chooses." They heard Debby say; "Yeah, really. That's what happened. I'm not kidding. Oh. Listen; I've got to go. I'll tell you more later." Dad winced and the PPPP symptoms appeared on his face; false certitude, steely forced smile and an intent challenging gaze into the happening witness's blinking eyes.

In a conscious attempt to "correct" any "misperceptions" he confidently said; "I've decided to take this dog." He pretended to have possibly misspoken by affecting a movement reminiscent of the time Polly thought it the height of hilarity to put ice cubes down his back. He surveyed the expressions surrounding him. He couldn't detect any reaction at all. He cleared his throat and re-stated; "I should say that we've decided to take this dog." He chuckled and heard the slightest hint of a collective groan. He realized that by saying "we've" that could give Debby the impression that Marian was part of the decision making process. He started a second correcting statement to the original contrived announcement. "I should say that excepting Marian ...... "

Debby cut to the chase and said; "Great, I'm glad you want to take him," and proceeded to retrieve documents from her lower desk drawer. The group made a faint sigh of relief, excepting Prince, who sat still, eyeing one human and then the other. He wondered what was up.

While the legal proceeding proceeded Marian told Polly that she could keep the double length chain that was in the little one's hand saying; "He needs a lot of space." She knelt down and cuddled Prince, saying; "I know you can be a good boy. Trust her." She elevated and walked out the front door with the slightest hint of a smiling tear.

After papers were signed, the family, Polly fearlessly on the leash, led Prince to the front door. He was again surprised at the agenda, but at this point was beginning to enjoy the unexpected wonders bestowed on him and jauntily followed her guidance.

That is until she led him to the stationary black demon and Mom opened one of its doors, sliding into the belly of the beast. Other doors were opened; Dad sliding in opposite Mom. Polly pulled his leash toward her opened door encouraging him to hop in. Prince thought; "You've got to be kidding. That's a monster!" He looked up at Polly and shook his head "no." Having already had some experience with his balkiness she laughed out loud and said; "Come on. It won't kill you." He thought; "I don't want to be part of a monster." She saw that he was still uncertain and climbed into the plushy backseat. She rubbed the seat the same way she petted him and smiled, saying; "Oh, come on." Prince did some quick thinking. He was prepared to go back into his tiny cage and now he was being offered the opportunity to enter a larger cage; one point for the monster. The plushy prison seat was a large improvement over the metal bars of his cage; two points for the monster. He would have company he liked; three points for the monster. He realized that the only thing bothering him was his own negative first impression of the noisy monsters seen on the highway. He could dismiss that as a misconception, as he had already seen that they meant him no harm. He would have to think of a new word to substitute for monster. But, no doubt, if he had that impression others did too. He didn't dwell on that suspicion long, immediately thinking; "Who cares?"

He hopped in and licked Polly's face. The family drove home, with Prince's face out the window, tongue hanging, marveling at the plethora of pretty panoramas.
Chapter 8

Soon the car-cage-monster, black Saab stopped in the gravel driveway of a two story, Southwestern styled house. Everyone exited. Prince was anxious to explore his new surroundings and as a result of following the path, comprised of brick and concrete square tiles, succeeded in leading his family to the red front door instead. He reluctantly allowed Polly to hold him there, succumbing partially because he felt he had been doing that all day anyway and the results had been fine so far. "Why mess with a lucky streak?" he thought. He sniffed at the deep brown stucco finish, detecting a recent cottontail caller. Prince looked up at his new family to see what they thought about that, but they were apparently too excited about him to pay the unwanted, departed visitor any regard. Dad did something magical with his two hands and the heavy door swung open.

Prince had never seen or smelled anything quite like it; a mild lacquer antiseptic stench sitting on a minefield of synthetic fabrics and structures. He sneezed and shook his head. Upon being released from his chain his first thought was to find someplace that was made and smelled naturally.

The human trio got a kick out of his explorations, but had no idea of what he sought. Dad called out; "You know what? We forgot to have a doggy door installed."

Mom dryly replied; "When something goes wrong the 'we' word becomes convenient, doesn't it?"

Dad clucked his tongue and with a tired voice responded; "Don't start that old stuff ......"

Mom cut him off and with a wide eyed grinning face said; "Just kidding. Have you entirely lost your perspective? Everyone knows you're a closet feminist." She hugged his limp body.

Dad grittily replied; "You know I'm also an overt masculinist, don't you?"

"Yeah, I can tell. Don't be insulting. You and I both know that it's only the morons who think the terms are contradictory. Too many choose to focus on every possible source of conflict."

Dad gradually started laughing and firmly held her. He made a low humming sound.

Mom cleared her throat and nodded in the direction of Polly. They curtailed their brief hug and Dad murmured; "Yeah, right."

Polly saw them looking her way and didn't understand why or what they were talking about. She used her patented question and said; "Are you both nuts?" She was answered with a mutual, self-confident and unhurried affirmative bobbing of two heads.

Polly's attention was demanded by Prince as she saw him tugging at the plastic covering on the black, pillowed couch behind Mom and Dad. She yelled; "No, no."

For an instant Mom and Dad thought they were being chastised, but they quickly heard what sounded like a package being crudely ripped open and turned to it. They both yelled; "No, no."

Prince got the idea that his activities were unsuitable. He stopped and looked worriedly at the family as if to say; "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Dad grabbed his collar and led him to the door. Polly ran to be with him and in no time the three were in the back yard.

Polly pleadingly said; "Daddy, he didn't know," unknowingly conveying his precise thoughts.

Dad petted Prince's astonished head while eyeing Polly. He calmly said; "I'm not mad. We're just going to have to keep him out here until we can figure out a few things."

Mom was surveying the damage and decided that the couch looked better without the ludicrous, cheap plastic on it. She ripped the distended covering off and sat down. She was pleased that she no longer stuck to it and didn't miss the little scrunching sound it used to make whenever she moved. Dad re-entered and Polly remained outside with Prince primarily to show that she was not upset with him. Prince quickly forgot his indiscretion as he preferred the appearance and bouquet of the three quarter of an acre back yard.

A quick look would fool some into calling it a square or a box. It was actually longer at the northern border and gently tapered to the smaller southern side. The land gently rolled. The edges were thick with plants and trees, making mowing a cumbersome endeavor, so those areas displayed natural vegetation of long grass and whatever else felt like growing there, a perfect place to recline and hide. The center was open, only intruded by two full sized apple trees, very close to each other. Not currently in bloom the few apples in evidence were the remains of last year's crop, lying withered on the ground waiting for the summer strengthening of the sun to finish the job. The openness made it perfect for carefree running.

Prince first patrolled the edges. He found that he was constrained by a wire mesh fence supported by tall wooden posts at ten foot intervals. As he pursued his sniffing and tasting repertoire, he forgot the hindrance as he could see right through the obstruction. The precious adjacent yards, flat and devoid of growth, held no interest for him. The straight and dry road to the north, fraught with billions of tiny stones had all the allure of a worn out, discarded copy of the December 1959 "Corrales Comment." Maybe less.

The house border was a bit more complex. The sides mimicked the rest's unkempt vegetation, trees and bushes. It, too had identical wire fencing, but this obstacle separated him from the quarter acre front yard. He wondered why it was taboo and planned to find out one day. Different, but less strange was the thick bushes and trees right behind the house. There was no fencing and a small passage in the center allowing one to enter a tiny private area and then to go home.

As he wandered his new surroundings he couldn't help but relate it to his previous experiences. He wondered when his next canine opponent would emerge and do its best to kill him. Wanting to not be surprised he looked for possible entrance points and found none. He knew that preparation and concentration were essential. He thought that he must have missed something and picked up speed trying to quickly find the danger zone, consequently becoming oblivious to the loveliness that surrounded him.

Polly sensed his mood change and was worried. She tried to catch him and give him a big cuddle, but his speed allowed him to evade her. He thought; "Why is she trying to stop me from properly protecting myself? She's setting me up. She has already. Her favorite dog will descend on me any second." The drumbeats in his head kept increasing intensity. Soon he was no longer looking for a possible point of entry as all he saw was red in deeper and deeper shades. He felt something on his neck, wheeled around and struck.

Polly was shocked that Prince had bitten her hand. Prince was too and he furiously licked at the wound, thinking; "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll never do that again." He wished he could speak. Polly was hurt and angry. She recalled the warnings she had received about Prince being a fighting dog. She worried that she had made the wrong decision, but Dad was complicit and she could always blame him. The blood was still flowing, but it had slowed down to a trickle. She looked at his sincerely sorry face and realized that if she told her parents about this it was possible Prince would wind up back at the shelter. She didn't want to risk that and decided to keep this their little secret. She knelt down next to him, put her left arm around his neck, hugged and kissed him. He licked her face thankful for her forgiveness.

She rose and held up one finger to him and walked to the small triangular room behind the garage to get a bandage. She was attempting to communicate; "I'll be right back," but he thought she was emphasizing her injury, getting worried and confused. He slowly followed her. He stayed ten feet behind concerned that she might be seeking reinforcements.

He had experience with duplicitous fighting dogs who pretend to have given up, waiting for him to ease up. His concentration broken they would then launch a sneak attack. Or so they thought. Prince never lost concentration, always remaining on his guard. The annoying, retarded game was merely an imitation of a human one wherein a person calls attention to themselves to say; "I want to be left alone." Too overly obvious to fool a puppy playing for keeps.

But to his delight Polly was straightforward. Prince watched her put something on her injury and then take something off the room's worktable. He followed closely behind trying to determine what surprise she held as she walked back to the open area. She threw it and ran for it! He followed its flight running at top speed. He caught up to it before it stopped rolling and took it in his mouth. He thought; "What is this strange furry thing?" He rolled it around with his tongue and saw Polly running toward him smiling. She said; "You're supposed to bring back the tennis ball, silly." Instead he ran away holding on to it. When he saw Polly run after him he knew he did the right thing. His two tone ears flew back as he ran full tilt toward the southern boundary, forgetting its fence imposed limitation. Too late he saw it, dug his paws into the dirt and slid to the barrier. He wound up on his side nestled in the tall remnants of grass. The temporary stop allowed Polly to catch up with him. She straddled his motionless body, blocking any potential escape route with her legs and put her hand on the ball still held firmly in his mouth.

His initial instinct was to grip down harder attempting to keep the ball, but he quickly realized that could result in an accidental bite, so he loosened his hold. Polly pulled the ball from his mouth and jogged away with it. He did the same thing that he had just seen her do and ran after her. He caught up much more easily than she did and he tried to pull the ball from her hand careful not to get flesh. Laughing, she raised the ball over her head and spun around as he jumped for it. Tiring of this she again threw it and ran in its direction.

"What?" he thought. "This is where the game started. Do we do it again?" He got an idea. He let her get a head start and tried to time it so that he would get to the ball a fraction of a second before she did. He was successful in carrying out his plan, but did not anticipate the difficulty of picking up the ball in full flight. He bit at it and only managed to knock it further away. Before he was able to come to a stop and re-route himself Polly picked up the ball and again threw it. He learned something that he needed to know to be successful in future play. While he was much the quicker of the two she was beyond him in her ability to change directions and grab the ball. He wondered if that was due to her deliberateness or the fact that she only had two feet and very sure hands. He thought that she could run faster if she chose to, but wasn't certain. His all-out abandon had thus far resulted in a collision with a fence and an inability to pick up the ball. Maybe he had more to learn about this game. This could prove more challenging than learning to fight wherein you basically go for the throat as soon as possible and hold on until the opponent is still. This game is more complicated, but it's more fun and nobody winds up dead. Prince ran after Polly more leisurely than last time. Maybe they would come to the ball at the same time.

It was an approximate tie necessitating a photo finish to determine the precise result. He got his mouth on the ball the same time she stooped to grab it with her hand. He tried to pull it away and so did she. He looked up into her now fiery eyes and saw the determination which was looking down at him. He strained and emitted a low guttural sound which frightened her so soon after being bitten that she let go of the ball. He was elated at his victory and ran away at top speed, it now being her turn to try and catch him.

Polly was mad. She felt that she was either cheated or threatened; maybe both. She casually walked in his direction thinking that she'd like to register a complaint and establish a rule; no growling. She couldn't think of any way to communicate that to him and even if she found a way he would probably say that he didn't growl at all. It was more of a struggling sound. It would be a reasonable point. Still, she was mad.

Prince reached the fence boundary, turned around and was surprised to see Polly so far away. He thought; "I chase her when she has the ball. But she's not chasing me when I do. Unfair! Nobody designated me the permanent chaser and if they did I'd tell them to keep the job."

Polly couldn't think of any way to say what she wanted. She decided that the best thing she could do was to ignore his growling or struggling sound and to growl back at him and see how he reacts. She ran straight at him and he head faked to the right and darted left. She managed only to get a brief grasp on a back leg and tail before he ran to the other side and again waited near the fence, perhaps defiantly showing her that he still had the ball with his head cocked slightly back. She ran to him, but this time stopped ten feet away. He again looked right and she made a slide step in his direction, though in her case she went left. He saw that she had refined her technique and now posed a real threat to his previous maneuver, calling for a new plan. He ran straight at Polly, freezing and confusing her and darted right at the last moment. Her reaction was too slow and Prince again went around her easily and ran toward the fence. Frustrated she took off right behind him. He didn't look back. As a consequence when he stopped and turned he was surprised to see that there she was. She kept moving and despite a tiny, confused, supposedly evasive move from him she dived and got her arms firmly around his belly. He tried to squiggle loose, but only succeeded in winding up on the ground with Polly. Now that he was somewhat incapacitated she used her right hand to grab the ball and tried to pull it from his mouth.

Soon they were both on their feet having a tennis ball tug of war. He made a growling or struggling sound. She growled, put two hands on the ball and pulled it free. She ran away holding the ball above her head with Prince in pursuit.

Mom and Dad had entered the backyard a few seconds prior observing some of the action, Mom carrying a huge fringed brown pillow. In a mock overly serious professorial tone Dad incredulously called out; "Isn't he supposed to be fetching and bringing the ball back to you, or some such thing?"

Polly threw the ball and Prince ran after it. She walked to her parents smiling and said; "We're inventing our own ways of playing."

Mom and Dad returned the smile, strongest from Mom, while Dad knelt and hugged his daughter. Prince retrieved the ball, but when he saw that Polly was with her parents and no longer chasing, brought it back and dropped it at the trio's feet.

Dad patted his head energetically and said; "You're such a good puppy." Prince liked the attention and rubbed his body against Dad's leg. Dad continued; "Now I going to give you the bad news. The house just isn't set up to accommodate a frisky puppy, so you're going to have to stay out here."

Polly exclaimed; "No. Why?"

Mom intervened; "You saw what he did with the plastic couch covering. I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning and find objects of doggy interest chewed and laying all over the place."

Polly curled her lips into a nauseated look and watched Prince happily wagging his tail. The first hint of evening became obvious as the feeble sun became more inconsequential as it drifted behind a light cloud congregation near the western horizon, casting long shadows barely distinguishable from the ground on which they lied.

Mom cupped Polly's chin with her right hand and said; "Don't be so sad. He'll be fine. We'll leave the door to the utility room slightly open and leave this pillow for him."

Before she could possibly encounter any more discussion of the matter Mom walked to the room and put the pillow on its concrete floor. It was not a standard chamber in that it was triangular and while it appeared as such when viewed from the outside it contained no access to the house proper. It had two doors; one leading to the backyard and one to the garage. It contained water pipes and water receptacles, one emblazoned with the words "DEEP-WELL-AGITATION CONTROL," the purpose of which no one in the household knew, but most importantly it was well heated to preclude freezing, now of most relevance to a flesh and blood puppy. Of particular interest and importance was a "Texas Floor Safe," circular with a radius of seven inches and protruding three inches from the triangle's approximate center which held the family valuables. Now it would have a caretaker and guardian whose pillow touched its edge. Curiously Mom and Dad found its combination of 3-12-9-20-20-25 too easy or too logical or too predictable a pattern, while the former owners said that they could never remember it and regularly required "professional" help to re-establish access.

Mom went back to the house and retrieved dishes of food and water, placing them in Prince's room. In the excitement of the day he had forgotten all about eating, but with the temporary lull he raced to the dishes; gorged and guzzled. Polly was compelled to give him one more head rub before Mom and Dad ushered her back into the house.

Feeling ready to go again after finishing his nourishment Prince went back outside seeking Polly. He was puzzled when he didn't see her and perused the property searching, concentrating on the tall brush. After circling the enclosure three desperate times, getting more distraught with each step, he became completely distressed and bewildered. He thought that they were coming to know and like each other, but she was gone. What was the point of this new game she was playing? The fighting game was distasteful, but if he did well he was granted privileges and given admiring attention. What was his prize for doing well at this strange innovative recreation? Abandonment? Did he really do well or was that just wishful thinking? He had no way of being completely sure so he ignored the doubt. While the sun declined to its overnight resting place he angrily chose to avoid the new triangular prison left for him. He lay down on the ground twenty feet from the house with his head resting on his front paws and stewed. In the dark stillness he heard voices and unfamiliar tinkling sounds that were magnified by his attentiveness. He caught brief glimpses of figures passing by closed windows, which paid him no notice, content to self-centeredly rush on to the next window or disappear into parts unknown. He decided to be obstinate. He didn't need their paltry gift of a stupid, tiny, oddly shaped refuge despite its heat. He was a Dalmatian and his thick black and white coat could easily withstand a temperature of zero. He drifted off to sleep and dreamt of his bloody glory days.

Prince didn't know how long he slept, but the next thing he knew Polly was by an open second story window. She rapped on the glass and called his name. He stood and looked up at her. She whispered some things he didn't comprehend fully, but he got the general idea that among other things she was trying to direct him to the heated triangular room. It was not what he wanted to hear and he shook his head obstinately. She disappeared. He flopped back down, now even more disgruntled than before, as he didn't like being woken up, told what to do and then again be abandoned. His throat made a low displeased grumbling sound much like a very old man with no choice other than accepting precisely what he doesn't want from someone who knows full well that he doesn't want it. A situation which comes to mind is being expected to be grinning and optimistic while the smiling doctor tells you of the necessity and effectiveness of chemotherapy, while you know he is really doing rough calculations of the financial effect on his "practice," appropriately named, as opposed to an endeavor with which one is capable and long finished with "practice."

He had already been through a lot and the puppy felt like a cranky old dog. He thought about digging a tunnel under the fence. It wouldn't be the least bit difficult and he could always return to the heated triangle if things actually were as dismal as they appeared from the bordering fence. As the thought was gathering more and more credence in his mind he was again disturbed by more noise. The back door opened and out stepped Polly wearing a lavender robe over her Flintstone's jammies. Her arms were crossed over her chest in an attempt to fend off the middle thirties night temperature. As she expected it didn't do much good and she was worried about the effect it must be having on him. He stood up with no idea of what was to come.

In a high whisper Polly said; "Prince, what are you doing?" Prince was unable to make a good accounting of himself, so he merely maintained his dumbfounded expression and thought; "I don't know. Mulling things over."

She placed two fingers inside his collar and attempted to lead him to his new improved house of detention. He wouldn't move. She pulled hurting his neck and dragged him a few inches. He growled and heard the drumbeats. His instincts were to bite, but he somehow recalled that he had already done that once today and was immediately sorry. He considered other non-violent options at his disposal. He could let her bring him to the place he viewed as a jail and come back out as soon as she left. It was pragmatic but struck him as something like lying. He wanted to be truthful in his relationship with Polly as it just obviously seemed the right thing to do and besides, things get too confusing and complicated otherwise, not worth the effort.

She let go of his collar and walked to the triangular room hoping he would follow. He didn't as he thought it possible that had he entered she would leave and close the door behind him. Polly stood at the entrance and implored; "Oh come on, Prince. I don't want you to freeze out here," as she leaned forward, hands on knees, feeling the chill permeate her extremities. From her tone he thought that she was trying to do something she considered kindly, but since he was relatively immune to the cold, he couldn't understand what that was. He stood firm and looked at her probingly. "Doesn't she know that I've been spending much of my recent time in a cage and don't want to go back? How would she like to be restricted to such a tiny area?" He didn't realize that his questions applied only to physical circumstances and that in actuality Polly was subjected to constraints of a mental or social nature, though she did her best to minimize her deference to the iron laws written only on the inconsistent wind.

Polly didn't want to risk rousing her parents with any commotion, so she knelt and said; "Please Prince." His gaze approximated total confusion; mouth partially open revealing his long tongue and eyelids blinking over orbs of opal, a look she found his most attractive. He remained as stationary as the motionless evening air.

Polly sighed, left the door ajar and approached him. She rubbed his silly head and said; "That's all I can do. If you get cold go in there." She reluctantly walked to the house back door eyeing Prince. He followed behind her and the two stood huddled on the three foot long threshold.

Polly said; "I'd really like to, but my parents will kill me."

Prince didn't understand one word and didn't find any sense in her ambiguous tone. He remained in his place ready to charge in when she opened the door. She took pleasure in seeing him so determined and quickly re-assessed the situation. She slowly shook her head "no," at the same time displaying a Mona Lisa almost smile and said; "Okay. Come on. But, you'll have to be out before my parents get up." Polly opened the door and Prince followed her to the stairs where he ran up ahead of her and waited at the landing. When she got to the top she again led him to her room and closed the door behind them. She removed her lavender robe and climbed into bed. Prince eagerly jumped in. She reclined and he cuddled next to her. As she adjusted the alarm on her Art Nouveau clock she saw that it was midnight; the start of Easter Sunday.

They slept peacefully until the incessant clangs of tiny alarms put an end to their slumber. She aimed one half closed eye at the rude offender and he craned his neck around wondering what was going on; hoping it wasn't the signal for Round One. His eyes panned the room for his next opponent, but found nothing that wanted to fight. Polly leaned across and pushed the shutoff button restoring tranquility. She got up and put on her robe, while Prince preferred the velvety comfort of the Queen-sized bed. She went to the door and said; "Come on, man. We've gotta get." He understood what she said precisely, but didn't agree with her biased conclusion. Having determined that there was no marauder in the room his own biased conclusion was that there was no good reason to abandon his comfort zone. He re-closed his eyes, grumbled and settled back in. Polly was anxious to get moving, but thought that his human-like behavior was cute. It mimicked her own. She walked back to the bed and stroked his back. He liked that and lay there waiting for more. She noticed that he had some sleep in the corners of his closed eyes and used a finger to clear it away. It took a few swipes and Prince wasn't pleased, as it had the effect of jarring him back to the reality of having to get out of bed. She again went to the door and called his name. He recognized that to keep this insistent girl happy he would have to rise. He looked to the partially open window and saw that it was still dark. He decided to compromise. He always liked belly rubs, so he rolled onto his back, paws pointing to the ceiling and looked at her. She understood precisely what he was saying. It made her smile to see his vertical posture and his silly face, which was turned to one side affording him a better view of her while resting on the back of his head. She went back to him and rubbed his belly and under his chin. He stretched out to the maximum and periodically raised his head to lick her face. It tickled her and she thought that he should know the same feeling, so she licked his. She started to playfully rub his belly rapidly. He squirmed and decided that she was being very reasonable with him, so he rose and jumped to the floor, leading her to the door. She followed him out, down the stairs and to the back door. She opened it and went out with him. The full moon provided the only visibility, but it was more than adequate. Polly petted his head and said; "I love you, Prince." She held up her right index finger hoping that he would understand her meaning which was "I have to leave, but I'll be back." Polly continued to hold it up as she re-entered the door saying; "Bye, bye Prince," hoping he would come to understand that this meant that she would be gone for a while.

Prince understood the meaning provided by the finger, but wasn't clear on the verbal message. He sighed and looked up at the moon thinking; "She's crazy, but I like her. I haven't got the slightest idea why I have to be out here, but I trust she has some reason that makes sense to her ....... Maybe someday it will make sense to me too ...... But, I doubt it." He chuckled at his new reflective observations. He lay down on the ground and found it shockingly cold after becoming accustomed to Polly's warm bed. It was like someone who had lived comfortably without air-conditioning at home becoming unable to live without the luxury after experiencing it elsewhere. Was that a necessity or an acquired taste? He had no idea. He had a more pressing priority than thought. He got up and jaunted to the heated triangular room, ate, drank, lay on his fluffy fringed pillow, closed his eyes and slept waiting for Polly's return.

He dreamed that he was back at the shelter. He was romping enthusiastically in the dark with his seven fellow prisoners. He sensed that dawn was imminent and he told them that they must return to their cages. They stared at him sadly with looks that said if they knew how to ask questions they would. He was secretly glad they couldn't as he had no answers. It didn't make any sense to him either, but he had seen enough of the system to know this was for their best. He prompted a second time and because they seemed to trust him went back to their prisons and shut the gates behind them. They watched as he did the same.

He woke up on his pillow in his heated room. He was unsettled, recalling his old friends and hoped that they had learned to temporarily escape and know when to go back without his lead. He then felt very stupid for not understanding what Polly couldn't tell him. Worse, he should have known because he knew the concept. Just as he couldn't tell his fellow prisoners why, Polly couldn't tell him. It was unfortunately the case. Polly showed him that indeed freedom is temporarily clandestine. He didn't find the thought a gloomy one. First he had been a prisoner of his requirement to fight. Next he was confined by very escapable bars in a small room. Now he was detained in his own heated triangular room on a plushy cushion with access at will to a big back yard. This was undeniably significant progress and he was still only one year of age.

He contentedly closed his eyes making a small wry smile. He thought about what the future might bring. He visualized an end to fighting, cages, prisons and the need to hide from scrutinizing, mean-spirited and entertainment deprived retards with access to 7,836 channels. He saw the "human" appearing observers who impose these conditions dry up and shrivel to microscopic stature as a result of their untreated disease. He didn't know that the world was already at least half way to his vision. He slept happy and hopeful for tomorrow.
Chapter 9

Polly walked by her parent's room and dawdled there listening for signs of activity. She was happy not to detect any as she desperately wanted to keep her night visitor a secret. She was confident Prince wouldn't spill the beans and went back to bed. She immediately slept, exhausted from the events and emotional ups-and-downs of the day and night.

She woke and squirmed to her father's hand tickling her belly and saying; "Come on. It's 8AM already. You can't sleep Easter Sunday away."

She didn't consider 8AM worthy of "already" status. Polly turned onto her stomach, pulled the pillow over her head and said; "Watch me." Her motives for this response were complex. She really was tired and could use a bit more sleep, though she wanted to get up to check on Prince and she knew that the maneuver would invite more desired tickling. She was right and she "tolerated" the onslaught until she couldn't stand it anymore. She half fell out of bed and lay on the floor laughing.

Dad said; "Come on. Come on. We have a basket full of goodies for you and Prince is anxiously waiting."

Polly was thankful to hear that. Her eyes lit up as she stood and donned her robe.

Dad added; "We fed and freshened his water already. You know that should really be your job."

Polly sort of nodded, rocking her head back and forth with her tongue perched on her lower lip. When she didn't detect a smile or even a small grin on her father's face she said; "I know. I know. I will. I will," and headed for the door.

Dad followed and said; "Maybe you can take him for a walk in the neighborhood later and introduce him. It's a nice day and some people might like to meet him as there used to be a Dalmatian in the development that was a terror."

Polly looked back at him quizzically.

"Yeah. I just found out from the people next door that it died about a month ago. It used to hop the fence and it attacked a few people and more than a few dogs. People probably won't be thrilled to see another one."

Polly grimaced and disdainfully said; "Prince won't do that."

"I don't think so either. But it would be neighborly to show them that they don't have to be concerned." Dad was never one to previously use words like "neighborly" sans sarcasm, but in this case he thought it inevitable that Polly and Prince would be out on the conventional gossip loving streets and he wanted it to be as pleasant as possible for the duo.

Polly raced down the stairs and looked out the kitchen window to see a tail-wagging puppy looking right in it. She rapped at the glass and Prince's level of enthusiasm elevated as he put his front paws up on the stucco beneath the opening to get a closer look. She held up her right index finger hoping he'd understand it meant; "Soon, soon." She quickly devoured the breakfast Mom had waiting and started back to her room to dress when Mom called out; "Don't you want to see the basket we put together for you?"

Polly actually could have waited until after her walk as she surmised that it would still be there then. But she didn't want to put a damper on their efforts and perused the wicker basket which rested on the gray granite veneered kitchen counter. She was delighted to see sugar coated marshmallow eggs of all colors, chocolate bunnies and jellybeans hidden in the mass of green synthetic "grass." She grasped a pink egg, hugged both her parents and ran upstairs to dress. Hoping to favorably impress the neighbors she decided to wear clean blue jeans and a white Eminem sweatshirt replete with hood, covered by her unzipped short red quilted jacket.

Polly went out the back door and there he was chasing a bird. When he heard the door slam he looked, saw her and ran over at top speed, his logical hopes realized. She squatted and they licked each other's faces and then she put the leash on his deep blue collar.

He was expecting another ball playing session, so he was surprised when she led him toward the triangular room. He momentarily balked, the thought crossing his mind that this might be some new tactic to get him in there and close the door.

Polly said; "Come on. We're going to see the wonders of Camino De Lucia and I don't mean the landscaping." She chuckled at her own sarcastic witticism and he was somewhat less appreciative, adopting a reserved posture beyond his years. He couldn't quite detect what she said, but concluded that it was intended to be some kind of good natured humor. Since it seemed to lack any purpose he followed her to the room and chastised himself for not being able to merely trust her. She opened the door to the garage. Its door already raised, Prince was ecstatic when he saw the great outdoors and ran as fast as Polly could move down the hundred foot driveway, straining at the leash. Polly tried to stop him at the street so she could watch out for cars. She had no problem as when Prince got there he willingly stopped undecided whether to go left or right. He didn't yet know that his direction didn't matter as Camino De Lucia was shaped as a circle where he was and he'd wind up covering the entire territory no matter which way he started out. That was unless he took the right-of-way off shooting from the circle to the wild Bosque, natural and unevenly contoured land, half wooded and bordering the Rio Grande River. A huge street by Corrales standards it had other parts that were laid out differently. One section was comprised of two parallel, non-intersecting roads, both leading to the town's main thoroughfare. Another section was a warped "L" with two culs-de-sac leading to a real dead end after creating a false impression of an earlier one. This wannabe "L" actually insisted on being referred to by a different name; Manzano Road, probably to emphasize the view of the Manzano Mountains which it didn't have, though the rest of the area did. Magnanimously people called it Camino De Lucia, despite the occasional pompous protestation. An aerial view of the entire street was that of a lollipop with an incomplete useless handle on a stick with a spare.

Prince sniffed the air, got a whiff of the low, muddy river and ran left toward it, pulling Polly who was laughing and almost keeping up. Coincidentally, one of the residents of a two story, traditional, square white stucco house on the inner side of the circle also entered the street. Prince slowed down appreciably. Demetrius Shamsky, a retired engineer who previously worked no-bid government contracting jobs very sporadically, specializing in easily refutable land studies loved by builders. He was grinning without having had the benefit of seeing the Friar Tuck by way of Bozo hairstyle partially hidden by the baseball cap he perennially wore, even indoors, though he didn't know a cut fast ball from first base. "Morning, Polly. Is that a new dog?"

"Morning, Dim," Polly echoed back utilizing the shortened name Demetrius disliked, but everyone used. She tried to think of an interesting response to his opening and drew a blank, so she said; "I think he's about a year old and he's new to me. Wanna say hello?"

"I don't know. Is he all right?"

Prince came to a full stop as did the others. He was trying to figure out what was going on, having that in common with Dim.

Polly said; "Yeah," and moved toward her neighbor. Prince took that as an indication that she was comfortable with Dim and in excitement at the possibility of making a new friend he wagged his tail and ran at him. Dim ducked something no one else saw and put his hands in front of his face resembling Floyd Patterson attempting to survive a Sonny Liston onslaught. Peek-A-Boo.

Prince kept going and put his front paws up on the mail order, loose fitting, tan slacks Dim purchased for "country" expeditions. Dim yelled; "Get him off me. Get him off me."

Polly pulled the leash and held it short five feet away from the neighborly country boy. Prince tried to get back to his new buddy and didn't understand why Polly denied him access. Dim walked away, utilizing both hands to brush away the invisible offensive evidence on the shining pants, poorly mimicking the sun's unfettered display. He looked back and chastised; "Keep that dog away from me. You ought to train him better than that," apparently unaware of the adequacy of his own training in engineering.

Polly grimaced and was silent, seeing the humor in the situation, but was not enough of a wordsmith to adequately share her feelings without opening up the possibility of a "rude" characterization and an "I'm going to tell your father" scenario.

Prince was befuddled. He thought that Dim wanted to meet him and that Polly was going to allow it. In a matter of seconds the situation reversed. He was becoming accustomed to human nonsense and wished that he was not compelled to dwell on the problems of a Dim-ly lit world. In the future he would try to focus only on his new family.

Polly again walked and Prince quickly ran ahead of her seeing one of his favorite things. Puddles! Shaded depressed areas in the dirt at the side of the asphalt road still held some water probably from the downpours of the prior week. There was now more mud than sea, but Prince didn't care as he could easily splash and slide through either substance, not knowing or caring where mud ended and water began or where water ended and mud began. However he was soon to discover that Polly did have a line of distinction. She smiled and ran with him, both covering their lower bodies in kicked up mud. Polly had a harder time in the mud than he did, possibly being limited by only having two legs, but was his equal in the less slippery water.

Prince suddenly felt his head pulled back and turned to see that Polly had fallen and was sitting in the mud. He was worried thinking that he may have been responsible for hurting her. He went to her and licked her face frantically as if to say; "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you hurt?"

He was surprised to see her laugh and lick him back. She put her arms on his back and stood up after a few false starts absolutely covered in mud like him. She said; "Let's go," and started to move again, so he continued through the water-mud. Prince soon felt a gentler tug on the leash and turned to see that Polly was still standing, but she was back up on the asphalt brushing herself off. She mumbled; "Another neighbor." She liked playing in the puddles, but didn't like to be watched doing it. This is virtually impossible for a puppy to understand, but also unnecessary for Prince. If she could convey her reluctance to perform for an audience it wouldn't make any sense to him anyway. All he needed to know he already did. Sometimes Polly likes to play with me in the mud, despite having more difficulty handling it and sometimes she doesn't. I'll respect her wishes.

"Dog taking you for a walk?" came the boisterous, smirking, well-anticipated, time-worn remark from Maximillian Propanis walking with his wife Minnie. He outdid himself when he chuckled and added; "Or should I have said taking you for a wallow?" Broad near laughter was on the faces of the couple who boasted that they were on occasion capable of completing the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle; no doubt unchecked for accuracy. Polly had to smile at the second quip, considering it a remarkable improvement over the first. Prince was nonplussed and remained stone faced as Polly brought him to a halt.

Polly replied; "Wallows are cool? Wouldn't you say?"

Max looked to Minnie for help as she pretended not to notice finding fascination in the chamisas she had only previously seen about a million times.

When prompted a second time by a direct question of what she thought about the controversial subject, Minnie felt the need to adjust something on the bun holding the bulk of her pulled back brown hair and Max replied; "I'm thinking about the contradictions apparent in those chamisas, perhaps a bit of a double bind. They are defined as evergreen plants which is at best a half truth. While they always maintain some foliage, what there is of it at this time of year is akin to the stretched dry skin of a corpse reclining in a funeral home. In bloom, the densely packed, five foot by five foot mature shrubs display sulfur to gold flowers, appealing to all tastes, but then turn to an invigorated straw color, for some reason choosing to remain on their stems."

Minnie said; "The unstoppable attraction of body and soul."

Max's eyes widened and he fidgeted with the top button of his well-used-no-longer-office-quality white shirt. He scanned the scene and saw Polly and Prince staring. He put his right hand on his wife's shoulder and exclaimed in a voice that almost displayed sincerity; "That's pure poetry Minnie. How do you come up with these things?"

Minnie feigned over-complimented ordinariness and self-effacingly radiated; "Oh, I don't know. I suppose anyone can do it," as she basked in the glory of her impromptu brilliance.

Max turned his attention to Polly and asked her; "Don't you think that was right to the point?"

Without missing a beat and without inflection Polly said; "Oh, yeah. I especially liked the part about the corpse. Reminded me of 'The Fall of the House of Usher.' Ever see that?"

The couple donned their smile masks, saying nothing, but implying; "Of course, hasn't everyone?"

Polly imitated Roderick, put her hands over her ears, writhed her body in torment and in the best mock baritone voice she could conjure said; "The noise. The noise! It gets louder every day. I can't stand it." She laughed genuinely and saw six eyes looking her way, none of which displayed the slightest hint of mirth. She cleared her throat and with rapidity said; "Never mind. Want to pet my dog Prince?"

Minnie replied; "Of course we would were he not dirty."

Max added; "Maybe next time when she's had a bath. She's pretty and might be a great dog."

The couple walked away and undetected Polly mumbled; "He." She and Prince went in the other direction and Polly said; "They're really nice people. So far one vote for potential menace and one abstention leaning toward not yet clean enough."

Prince was temporarily out of puddles and the next item that piqued his interest was a trail through a lightly wooded brushy area. The partially bent weeds either meant that something very light, like rabbits, used it or that human activity was infrequent. The river fragrance was the strongest he had encountered today and he wanted to further investigate. Polly wanted to get the neighbor introductions over with as quickly as possible, so she preferred to stay on the asphalt road and attempt to favorably impress the next people out for a stroll. Prince went his own way until he felt his collar tighten. He stopped, surprised and aggravated and looked back at Polly, firmly motionless on the asphalt.

Prince thought; "Oh, come on, now. I know you can get through this easily and there are some wonderful scents this way. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." He looked at Polly with a combination of probing and insistence in his wide eyes. He was answered with a back turn, Polly's eyes on the oncoming couple, Jack and Jenny. She tugged gently. He heard a faint drumbeat generated by the Native Americans across the river, five miles away and saw the pink towel hanging from a nearby clothesline. He turned to the drums and provided his own not so gentle tug. Polly was obliged to turn in his direction and took three steps to maintain her balance. Prince was amused until he was brought to another abrupt halt. He lowered his head gaining leverage and attempted to continue his way. He managed a few difficult steps and thought that there has to be a better approach. At this pace he would be worn out before he got there. He sat and thought, but refused to go an inch in her direction.

From fifty feet Jack called out; "I once had a dog like that. One good crack in the head fixed him fine."

Jenny gave him a playful shoulder slap and said; "Don't listen to him. That's his weird sense of humor." Jack's huge chest rippled under his gray UNM sweatshirt as he laughed louder than the commentary seemed to warrant. Perhaps he was amused to have been so lightly struck as the high school football coach was a former player switching between offensive lineman and fullback. For his own personal development he preferred the line as he thought he had a shot at the pros, but his college team needed a running back desperately and the team consideration outweighed his personal goals. He would say that he preferred the line as he was just too slow a runner to attract the pro scouts, often wistfully which he would soon convert to an "I don't care" attitude.

Prince's attention was drawn to the noises and he took a few slow steps toward the group.

Jack did an approximation of his line squat and called out; "Git over here you bad dog."

Prince charged and put his paws on Jack's thighs and licked his round red face. Jack turned his head, smiling and pretending to be disgusted by the quick tongue. He stood up and Prince also elevated again putting his paws on Jack's thighs, somewhat disappointed that there was no play scrap. As everyone watched the two Jack asked; "How long you have this dog?"

Polly pulled Prince back toward her and replied; "Just since yesterday."

Tiny Jenny, less than half Jack, went to Prince and rubbed his head saying; "Don't let old Jack fool you. Our last dog was a little terror and Jack didn't do anything but yell; 'Stop barking,' as the pug barked and ran all over the place."

Jack feigned a "Don't give away all my secrets" look, eyes directed at the clear blue.

Prince felt very at ease with both of them and forgot about his aspiration to get to the river. The three humans remained in the same general area, in front of an oddly shaped one level house. Its current cockeyed "U" appearance with a distended way off center entranceway and a sloping roof to the left and a flat one to the right made one wonder who the bogus architect might have been. Aesthetics aside the sloping roof blocked the mountain view which otherwise might have been enjoyed from all rooms in the right wing. Was this an intentional or accidental denial? Two ignored eyes peered from a closed left window; the attached or unattached brain annoyed at the group's positioning near his property line.

All houses on Camino De Lucia are subject to a ten foot "utility" easement. Most houses are fenced at that point, but some aren't. Local protocol varies. Most don't mind if a person or dog walks this area and some do. Some landscape with rocks to make walking difficult and express no verbal preference. Customarily people walking by themselves or with other humans stay on the asphalt and safely avoid all possible controversy. Travelers of the canine persuasion go to the ten foot limit as they seem to prefer dirt and grass, but not rocks. They have difficulty in discerning their limits in front of unfenced houses for a variety of reasons too boring to detail and the possibility that they might absurdly think that open means open. Prince will later learn the necessary nuance to this radical thought.

What it unquestionably means in reality is that as soon as they step onto the easement they will be viewed by the interior occupants, whose main concern in the moment is that the dog doesn't adopt a squatting position while on hallowed ground. One might think that the occupants might be watching something more interesting on TV, the internet or reading a book. That one has not lived in America's suburbs, where the height of entertainment is the glee induced when a dog squats on the easement of someone they don't like, presumably making the simultaneous statement that he or she won't need to squat on theirs.

Because of the complex drama the dog can't possibly fathom, it squats, not in defiance of, but perhaps in essential disregard for community standards. This was what perplexed the arguably attached eyes in Weird U. They were compelled to watch the long rendition while they knew that their neighbors were amused at their plight. Eyes pressured brain for a plan. Brain was more interested in going back to the computer to watch the dog squatting websites.

Jack was trying to keep his weight down, so after a short period of dog petting, happy talk and smiles he and Jenny continued on. Prince again showed how easily distracted he could be as he no longer thought of the fascination with the river scent he had just a few minutes prior and he too walked on. Or so he thought as Polly moved her feet quickly to keep pace. Eyes and brain were at odds; not only because the programming was visually repugnant to eyes yet mentally amusing to brain, but because brain's preoccupation with vulgarity precluded him from formulating a plan regarding the possible boundary line invaders.

More puddles! Prince silently screamed and he ran to them, Polly running to keep up after seeing the source of the excitement. They were in front of another non-standard house; this one a one story adobe with a sloping blue tin roof. Its peculiarity was the exterior display of uncovered adobe shunned by virtually everyone as an open invitation to early collapse from the rain and snow's ability to deteriorate the dirt based cement which held everything together. This hacienda had a unique idea. Desiring to maximize the beauty of natural adobe it was left exposed in areas under an overhang umbrella and covered by tan stucco in areas open to the mercy of the clouds. While visually stimulating the idea had a serious drawback recognized in early Greek architecture; to maximize exterior beauty it was necessary to also maximize interior darkness as windows under overhangs get no sunlight. Skylights have been used to attempt to attain the best of both worlds, but work best on flat roofs and are rarely used on slopes for a number of rather obvious reasons one can glean from their local Mr. Fixit if so desired. The point, if any, is that barring the foresight of a flat roof with skylights one has the choice of an externally stunning house with inner darkness or an ordinary house with inner light and warmth. Complicating things one practical step is that despite their unique look fancied by the uninitiated, flat roofs are avoided by Southwestern natives who know them to be a perennial leaking problem.

Prince's favorite feature was the mud puddles which succeeded in attaining the best of both worlds by choosing to reside in the easement next to a weathered post and rail fence outside the house. He splashed through them slowly recalling his partner's good natured difficulty the first time and also in recognition of his own desire to spend more time in the mud-water. He slowed down more as he watched Polly's surprised smile; she expecting another track meet and prepared for it still retaining much of the mud from her fall. Prince liked the feel of the squishy matter and slowed to a point where any further deceleration would result in a stop. Polly's feet finished moving and she merely swayed.

George and Adrienne Lovelace exited their lavender streaked front door wishing to get a closer look at the attractive couple. The door closing behind them drew Prince's attention. Seeing them he meandered to dry land and grumbled. Polly did the same. In a low charming voice Adrienne slowly said; "Oh no. Don't stop on our account. We're admirers." George vigorously nodded his head in agreement.

Polly dejectedly shrugged and said; "Too late now. The mood is broken."

Had he the power of speech Prince would have produced an echo in a mildly belligerent tone.

George, a middle-aged, tall, thin and craggily handsome man adjusted the lapels of his denim jacket and led the way to Prince. He stopped a bit short at the fence opening and asked; "Is he friendly?"

Wanting to make Prince welcome in the neighborhood or at least not be a subject of constant scrutiny; at the same time desiring to be truthful Polly said; "Definitely, but go a little slow right now. You may have caught him in an unguarded moment."

Addie wasn't paying any attention to the spoken words. The only thing in her head was Janis Joplin singing "Ball and Chain." She strode past George. From Prince's ground level point of view all he saw was long confident legs incarcerated in the tightest pink, stone washed, denim jeans he had yet seen. Of course he had never previously seen pink denim jeans of any sort; loose or unwashed, but that's getting too technical. Everyone and he knew what was getting his attention. Addie leaned over, her curled blonde hair falling onto her lightly made up face and caressed him under the chin forcing his vantage point upward to her rocking blue eyes. In a silly adult version of a childish voice, which any child would be embarrassed to duplicate she said; "Is he the prettiest boy?" three times, either for emphasis or the provocatively catchy beat and since Prince didn't respond, then answered her own questions with a closing; "Yes he is."

Everyone laughed, excepting Prince and that was merely because he didn't know how to. Addie's rhythm reached his happy chord, but all he could do was to let his tongue hang out and pant. Not to be outdone George put one arm around Prince's neck which was greeted with a "Watch it, fella" grrrrr. George persevered and commenced scratching Prince's head with the fury and roughness of a compadre Super Bowl winner. With the couple focused entirely around his head Prince thought that the rest of his black spotted, white body deserved more attention and he squirmed free, presenting them with a side view. He soon had four hands all over him producing an ecstatic tiny yelp.

George and Addie moved back and admired the beautiful puppy. They were oblivious to the fact that they stood in the mud, undeterred from satisfying their optical senses. With the slightest hint of a Georgia drawl Addie said to Polly; "Now don't you let anybody, and I mean enn-nee-body, tell you that this dog needs any kind of robotic educating. You know what I'm saying, girl."

Polly wasn't sure, though tended toward "Yes, with a clarification required," but in the beaming happiness of the moment nodded her head and said; "You bet." George and Addie caught each other's eyes and used them to simultaneously motion toward their house and walked that way. George said; "Have a great day."

Polly responded with an uninspired; "You too."

Addie said; "Can't miss. It's Easter. Happy Easter!" She laughed at something only a southern belle understands as she opened the lavender streaked front door letting a grinning George in behind her.

Polly and Prince looked toward each other as if to say; "Tell me what I'm missing." They shrugged, Polly overtly. They smiled, Prince utilizing his tongue out, panting version and they walked on. Polly whispered; "I like them, but I can't tell you why. Sure, they made friends with you, but so do others think so." She smirked and quickly after did a pirouette to see if anyone was watching or in earshot. Not detecting any spies she added; "Sometimes it hard to tell if the others are sincere." Had Prince been able to understand that and talk he would have said; "Not for me, precisely because I don't get confused with words," quite a Catch-22, as if he really could understand words and talk he wouldn't be able to say what he sort of just did. Some fun house mirrors project images that are not really there. Some switch the sides with the center. Some invert bottom and top. Some ignore what is really there and show something else. Some make you fat. Others make you skinny. Some do combinations and mixtures of the real or distortions. The one at home doesn't do anything at all.

They came to a fork in the Camino De Lucia road. Left would put them on a long straight road with few bushes and trees taking them further from home. Right was curved and therefore not entirely visible with lots of trees and bushes, but would lead them right back home. Prince came to a complete stop and Polly stood still beside him. Prince sat and looked up at Polly for guidance. She fully understood him or thought that she did and said; "I don't care either."

Prince thought; "Darn it. Why does she leave the tough ones for me?" He took long looks in each direction hoping something would come out of somewhere or that Polly would show a preference. He sighed heavily when the delay produced no movement. He wanted not to go home yet, but the road toward home was much more attractive. He continued to sit but was becoming fidgety and his audacious stomach growled at him and he felt like eating. Polly took a step right and Prince eagerly got up ready to follow, his biggest decision of the day settled for him. Then she took a step to the left. Prince stopped moving in confusion. She stepped right. She stepped left. She was dancing to a tune he couldn't hear. She gave him a hint with a few words. As she moved her feet she leaned over and touched his nose saying; "Pardon me, Alphonse." She danced away, put her hand across her belly and said; "No, pardon me Gaston," making a small bow. Prince stared motionlessly. If he had any thought it was not apparent to Polly. She grimaced and sat on the asphalt next to her confused puppy who was physically on his haunches and mentally on some broad edge.

In a few seconds that seemed like hours to Prince, Polly jumped up and excitedly said; "I got it!"

Prince was composed and required some convincing.

Polly began her one step right, one step left dance and said; "I've got to get more modern. You're too young to know about any Alphonses or Gastons. Besides you're an American dog not expected to know anything of France."

Prince thought; "You'd be surprised."

Polly said; "Okay, American interpretive dance," as she put her hands behind her neck and rolled her belly. She moved right to him and again touched his nose saying; "Pardon me, Jonathan."

Prince was captivated but chose to retain his low viewpoint.

Polly giggled as she moved left and put her left hand on her undulating midsection and sloppily said; "No, pardon me, ......" She drew a blank and stopped moving. Prince showed his eagerness by rising from the ground. Polly put one hand on her forehead to show that she was thinking. Prince sat back down and made a disinterested face. He peered down the long straight road wishing to see some interesting trait in the lifeless monotony; a hedgerow, a thick grove of evergreens, wild shrubbery, wild flowers, anything but the boring nothingness.

Polly was disappointed at his reaction to her silly entertainment improvisation. She thought that he should have made a good attempt to fake interest as this wasn't the least bit easy for her to do. Deep down she was a very shy person. She stopped moving and stood with her hands at her sides. She said; "Oh, the heck with it. It's some contradictory contemporary genius Mom told me about. Frau Kroger. No. Crammit. No. Cramzit. No. Pedantzen. No. I give up." She saw Prince turn his head sideways as if he was on the verge of some sort of idea, but not yet comfortable with it. Polly shrugged and shook her head from side to side and in exasperation said; "Oh, I don't know. Something like Francine."

Prince again rose and vigorously pulled an astounded Polly all the way home, down the driveway, through the triangular room and into the back yard. She removed the leash from his collar and out of breath and perspiring from the jaunt said; "You will never make any sense to me." Prince panted and his tongue hung out, always his most flattering way of being photographed, which is no rare occurrence in "curious" Corrales, New Mexico. Polly evoked the same countenance, but would have hidden from any detected paparazzo.

She held up one finger and keeping an eye on him entered the house. Prince lay in the grass enjoying the feel of the directly overhead mid-day sun. A large multi-colored butterfly haphazardly flew near him, but he was too tired to chase its crazy and elusive flight pattern, preferring to watch it dive and ascend. At times it relaxed on the ground, but curiously was compelled to exercise its wings as if it hadn't had its fill of that when elevated. Prince wasn't sure, but he suspected that it was not yet time to go in the house. He usually made note of patterns repeating and though he was far from certain about drawing conclusions from a one-time event his previous visit was in the dark and Polly first called to him from her second story bedroom window. He got a more useful piece of evidence when he recalled that Polly didn't invite him at first. He grumbled and tried to bury himself in the soft grass, but was unable to sleep with his hunger pangs.

Polly heard her parents having a jocular rambling discussion at the kitchen table. Apparently the local mores had affected her instinctive attitudes about "curiosity," so she stood un-noticed alongside the open door and listened.

Dad clumsily placed his wine glass on the table, spilling a few red drops, which he immediately wiped with his shirt cuff. He said; "I knew we were in trouble as soon as we elected a codger who doused his head with iodine and called his wife "Mommy. Jeez." He felt more uncouth than his actions and words indicated and enjoyed it.

Mom was in a similar frame of mind and put two fingers halfway down her throat, mistakenly going too far, resulting in her spitting up some of the former contents of her empty wine glass mixed with something like spittle on her pants. She made a half-hearted attempt to wipe it with her bare hand. She forced the tiniest, shortest smile and checked her hand for damage. She said; "Don't make me puke." She found that funny and made a brief snort, then continued; "I hope it was merely a sign of early Alzheimer's. I wouldn't want to envision any other possible thought." With some difficulty she got up and went to the pantry for a refill.

Dad followed her carrying his quarter full glass. They re-filled, her pouring. He said; "The country was desperate and as a result is even more desperate now. Remember that idiot convinced everyone that the debt level doesn't matter? Talk about detached. He wouldn't be capable of running a household, so we put him in charge of the country."

Mom laughed when she said; "If you take them seriously you have to cry. How about the governor with some commentary about the girly-men?" She reached down to a drawer and retrieved a cork remover, preparing for the next bottle.

Dad staggered to his chair and said; "I wish I was there. I would have asked him if his preference was more for the steroid freaks."

"I'd of followed that up with asking whether or not he still subscribed to 'Muscle Monthly' and does he have a favorite pose in that magazine?"

Dad said; "I'd be a bit afraid of hearing the answer, ready to yell out 'Too much information. Too much information.'"

She slurred; "Can you come back over here and get the cork out of this thing for me?

Dad obliged her as best his wobbly legs could and when he finally got there he let out a long breath of air. He stabilized somewhat by putting his arms around her waist and he said; "I'm not too good at getting these things out either."

Polly entered the room and announced; "I can do that pretty well." She extended her hands and continued; "Here, allow me."

Mom and Dad turned to her with identical faces that conveyed surprise and wide-eyed embarrassment while their subsequent tiny sighs and smiles indicated momentary inconvenience.

With a flat tone Dad said; "Ain't it great to have helpful kids?"

Duplicating the sound Mom replied; "Sure is," and handed her daughter the tool and the bottle.

Polly popped the cork in about two seconds compelling Mom to slur; "Where have you been to learn that?" which sounded more like; "Whrvyubintalindat."

Polly thought she understood the part that roughly sounded like; "Where have you been?" and thinking that was a stupid question to ask as Mom knew exactly where she was, matter-of–factly replied; "I've been around the block." She held the cork in her hand near her face and said; "I'm amazed this little thing gives you so much trouble."

Mom and Dad looked at each other's startled face, then laughed. Dad facetiously shook his head and said; "It's that darn internet."

Polly carried the cork to the kitchen table and sat. She said; "You two are both nuts," while she rolled it around noticing its almost unpredictable patterns of movement on the glossy, wheat colored surface. She declared; "I'm hungry. What's left for me?" As Dad scooped some room temperature meat loaf into a plate quickly covering it with a red sauce which was bubbling on the range Polly thought about iodine head and girly men. She wanted to ask what these terms meant, but didn't want to divulge that she had been eavesdropping. They were difficult terms to work into a conversation without being very obvious.

Mom fell into another seat and was victorious in not spilling a drop of her wine with a synchronized movement of her hand, head and mid-section. Dad delivered the plate and a glass of ice tea with a precision that stunned Mom, who responded with a head nod which imprecisely conveyed stoned approval. Dad proceeded to retrieve and carry his drink, but his attempt at head, hand and mid-section synchronicity in re-gaining his seat got mixed reviews; Mom liked the wine spilling and Polly thought of it as a critical success likely to be a popular flop.

Polly's body came to attention. Her eyes popped and she said; "Oooh, I've got to get something for Prince! What do we have for him?"

Dad raised his eyebrows as he took another slug. He put the near empty glass down with a thud, but no flood and said; "Meat loaf?"

Polly looked to her Mom and said; "Meat loaf? Is that okay for him?"

Mom shrugged and said; "I don't know. Probably. I survived it." Mock offended about his culinary skills Dad just looked at Mom. Mom waved her hand dismissively and added; "I'll pick up some dog food as soon as I'm able to drive."

Polly looked from one to the other, then did it again. Dad said; "I'm not even going to try to get up again."

Mom said to Polly; "And when you feed Prince, would you also bring that bottle over to the table?"

Polly expected that this would be her job and after giving mild hints that she wouldn't mind if someone else performed the chore, especially after finding out that Prince would be getting something he never previously had, she unreservedly went about her lunch preparation and wine delivery duties. She immediately saw a problem and asked; "Didn't somebody buy a dog dish?"

Two somebodies glanced directly at the other's eyes with mouths agape, as they felt deficient in their grandparental obligations. Their feelings quickly became blasé when the wine kicked back into gear. Mom said; "Polly. Don't worry about it. I'll get a dish when I pick up his food. Use a plate."

Polly was aghast at the thought of letting a dog eat from one of the regularly used family plates which sat near the sink. She opened a cabinet door hoping to find one of the infrequently used plates usually reserved for guests. She saw them on the top shelf, out of her reach. Drawing out the first word she said; "Mom, can you get one of these for me?"

Dad answered for her and disgustedly said; "Polly. For God's sake. Do you have to make a big issue out of everything?"

Polly curtly retorted; "No, I don't have to make a big issue out of everything. Name one other thing I make a big issue of."

Dad drew a blank and Mom counted the pine tongue and groove ceiling planks. The realtor had said that they were whitewashed, but Mom always thought gray washed or blue washed were more appropriate terms, though those words didn't seem to be in the lexicon of the local painting and staining industries. With three small steps and a "Whooo" Dad was on his feet and said; "Sorry, babe. Someday you'll know what it feels like to be loaded."

Polly was happy to see her father reach up and come down with a porcelain dish; cream background with blue inlaid depictions of countless tiny flowers. He handed it to her and kissed her on the top of the head. Dad got back to his seat utilizing an irregular version of Chubby Checker's twist. As she prepared her puppy's meal Polly said; "My friend Gale is twelve now and she tells me that she's been drinking a few months now. Is that when I can get loaded?"

Mom and Dad simultaneously raised their voices to offer a resounding "No."

Polly calmly asked; "When?"

Dad looked to Mom for help and saw his perplexed mirror. Ditto for Mom, except that she looked at Dad which really should go without saying except that in the current state of their public appearances and conversations a possible erroneously perceived movement or statement could result in the necessity of a protracted examination of both what was precisely said, taking somewhat into account what the dysfunctional and imprecise speaker later says they actually intended to say, but giving the latter inferior psychological, emotional and clarification considerations, with a salient bow to self-interest and the mask chosen by the analyst and if found deficient face the possibility of social ostracism (supposedly a punishment,) though having made that certain degree of inference that original material rightly seems to be given an overly high weight this process may actually at times be the fault of a particularly naïve and inadequate interpreter, at times masking their mask, perhaps deficiently instructed in the classics, or mentally challenged with an incapability to comprehend same, which in turn could be the result of many factors not mentioned right here as that would raise the distinct possibility of a reader getting disinterested and un-entertained, so therefore is discussed in footnote number one located at the end of this book, if it is ever finished and if the writer still remembers what he wanted to say in the footnote when and if he gets there and though the reader may have lost track of the original thought, or lack thereof and its flow in this painfully un-explanatory narrative, one must consider that the interpreter may merely have an aversion to classics or pretend to, which may be the logically most likely possibility as the packages in which old things are presented in an era called Post-Modern, since no one has the audacity or insight to give it a descriptive moniker, have slight chance of competing with the gilt (possibly but not certainly SIC) and flash endemic to less mature, derivative and confused arrivals, though this phraseology is not intended to cast aspersions on the young in utilizing a term which can be erroneously considered to have a derogatory connotation (i.e. equating less mature with the distinctly different thought attached to the correct usage of immature) and so much of everything is a mere function of imperfect first perceptions of appearance, those prejudiced views affected and perhaps determined by direct means, publicly or socially induced subliminal persuasion, not to forget the private demons, which contemporary intellectual thinkers believe has completed its merger with their public brothers, which in fact is not yet a fait accompli, psychologically (industry or self-imposed) and or market prescribed fantasies ,without consideration of masks or masking masks or masks masking masks, on to infinity entirely for the obvious self-interest of the perpetrator, but no one dare say, which may doom Post-Modernity to a cursory examination of the beautiful or ugly pictures, if anyone still risks making that value judgmental determination without resorting to sarcasm or poor attempts at humor, with no understanding of the thought process encapsulated in those or that pictured or which is the result of a devious writer's, also known to the few as an incompetent would be painter's, attempt to fool the few surviving archaics who actually read and understand WORDS, by creating the impression to that silly archaic that the inadequacy of the narrative is the result of a stream of consciousness style, supposedly more honest, but in truth possibly contrived, when in fact the thought was undoubtedly biased in its origination and was also the result of twenty-four hours of manipulation utilizing the input of three expert editors, each bringing their own tastes, mask configurations, monetary goals, desires for power and penchants for honesty or dishonesty to the situation or that confusion compounded by their interpreters and the writer's predilection for accepting advice that may at times seem antithetical to his fundamental beliefs, with or without masks, if any are truly inherent and not the result of a dismal nurture attempt, done in good spirit or insidiously, the result of this laborious, boring and antiquated process conceivably bringing the whole thing back to the true stream of consciousness, possibly the most honest style depending on the writer's ability to be honest with himself or herself, his sincerity, his competence, his abilities to recognize and attempt to balance his biases, his desire for the acceptance and remuneration attendant thereto of the mass market, which pious religion, consumer persuasion or what passes for them has had cornered since the flood, not to ignore the psychology industry, industry itself and fly-by-night government, what remains of the private and his feeling for the statistically insignificant, popularly dismissed possibility that he might just like the hole thing, in the latter case bearing the risk of being detected and subjected to sacrificial crucifixion, at the very least a temporary deathly escape; everyone knows that you do know exactly what is being said and do you still insist on playing dead thinking that it hides that you just don't care anymore; as plenty of excellent reasons exist not to, merely necessitating the choice of the one most comfortable to you if you still retain an ability to articulate a clear choice, circling back to the beginning, though this time taking the opposite path, forgetting the simple prehistoric truth that Mom looked to Dad and not a mirror and simultaneously Dad looked to Mom and not a mirror to cause the pacific explosion by moving in each other's direction which has come and gone; feel it if you're still alive. Ne pensez-vous pas que?

Dad, having had plenty of time to think of an answer, did one even better and came up with a question; "Do her parents know about it?"

Polly said; "Of course not!"

Mom was overwhelmed by the illogical direction of her daughter's words and derisively said; "Then why on earth are you asking us? Of course you shouldn't. In the words of a great American; 'Don't ask, don't tell.'" She placed her empty glass firmly on the table, proudly leaned back too hard on her chair and toppled over backward, but was able to avoid the floor with a deft shift of weight. She laughed maniacally while Dad came to her in an adroit effort to maintain her stability.

Polly thought about booze while she finished filling Prince's plate, adding plenty of the rad sauce on top. She exited the back door and Prince immediately jumped up and went to her. He wanted to sniff the offering up close, but she held it over her head waiting to find its proper place. Prince thought; "It's about time. My stomach has been growling for a year. And now you have to tease." His keen sense of smell told him that he was in for a surprise ...... eventually. Polly laid the plate in the just blooming grass after passing over the brick portal, fearful of staining the absorbing composite.

Prince put his face near the offering and thought; "What is this? I've never had this kind of stuff before," focusing on the warm red sauce which covered all the meat loaf and ran off its sides. He inquiringly looked up at Polly and she firmly said; "Eat it!" He carefully lapped at the sauce and decided that it wasn't at all bad. He slowly tested the underlying meat loaf and immediately recognized that it was very similar to something he previously had. Seeing that her puppy was doing well with his food, Polly went back in for hers. Instinctively he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to show Polly how much he liked the somewhat untraditional meal, but now thinking that he was not being watched, Prince gobbled and licked the plate with abandon, his biggest problem keeping the food off the grass. He had been accustomed to deep dishes, but the plate's gentler incline resulted in much of the meatloaf and sauce winding up in the newly emerging pasture. However he found that no problem at all and discovered that he also had a taste for the grass in this yard. When finished he got a drink from a bowl kept in the triangular room, went back to his sunny spot and this time soundly slept.

Polly returned to the kitchen table and joined her sloshed parents. As she wolfed down her portion of the meal she thought that it might be momentarily amusing to get them talking and tried to come up with some question that would get them going.

Polly facetiously asked; "What do you make of the state of the economy?"

Mom's laugh was more of a snort resulting in an accidental dump and consequent need to refill her wine glass. Dad waxed eloquent and said; "Dismal, holding steady and any movement will be to the downside. Clinton handed Bush II an unexpectedly huge budget surplus and a good economy, which was quickly turned into a huge deficit and the mess we're still in. Under Bush II everyone who wanted a house could get one whether they could afford it or not. Lo and behold, prices went up and everyone was happy. They borrowed against their increasing equity to fuel consumer spending which masked the fact that incomes were flat or down in real terms. When it hit the fan house prices dropped and everyone got very sad when they actually had to start paying earned money for their status symbols and learned that their house was worth sixty percent of what it used to be and had loans exceeding that against it. Add this to a credit system which has been stressed since the 1970's when Nixon went off the gold standard, each "crisis" a bit worse than the last, because there is more money available than there are credit-worthy borrowers, which resulted in a continual decline in bank standards. There's no short term solution. Things will limp along until some unexpected major event prompts the next slide; maybe China announcing that it no longer will accept payment in US dollars. You can't spend more than you earn for very long even if you own the printing press. Lyndon La Rouche called it well before it happened and offered some possible solutions that were not financially mainstream, but these are not mainstream times. One approach is to re-establish a WPA system in order to get money into the hands of the people rather than the banks, who, in turn will get their loans paid. In return for their pay they would build railroads which might make us less dependent on foreign oil. Radical!! In Washington he was laughed at and all he did was be right, apparently a crime in America today. Check out his website."

Polly finished her meal without any follow-up questions and after she ate as quickly as possible, imitating Prince, she said; "Sorry I asked," and got up to leave. As she walked out Dad said; "Typical," and Mom used her left hand to protect her wine glass.

Polly returned to her room intending to change into some old sloppy clothes as she was on her way out to play with Prince. She went to the lowest drawer of her simple, country version of a Queen Anne chest. She could not remember opening the bottom one in recent history and it was stuck shut. In frustration she grabbed the two brass handles and yanked, succeeding in bringing the chest closer to her and almost toppling it on her, the chest swaying perilously forward and settling back with gravity, while the blue candle on its top slid on its pewter base, landed on the floor and smashed the candle. She thought; "This will never do. These things are a lot more fragile than they appear." Polly used matches to reattach the candle and put it back in its place. She tested the three top drawers and found them to be in good order, but they didn't have any of the funky old clothes she wanted. She tried her current favorite again and it was still stubborn. She smacked it a few times with the side of a closed fist and the hurting of her hand was the only noticed effect. She stomped her foot loudly on the floor and was tempted to use some words that she had heard people occasionally say, but she didn't know exactly what they meant and she didn't want her parents to hear them. She sat there and thought about the problem. She spoke in a low tone saying; "What happens when an irresistible force meets an unmovable object?"

Mom heard the stomp and concerned for her daughter's safety she staggered upstairs to investigate. As she entered the open door she heard Polly's question and replied; "You re-define terms. What's the problem little girl?"

"I can't get this drawer open."

Mom was surprised at the answer thinking that Polly was much too competent to get bogged down in something so easy. She got on her knees and put her hands on the brass handles. She said; "It just needs a little coaxing after being ignored for so long." She gently tugged with her left and then with her right. She repeated the process and each tug produced a small movement of the stubborn drawer. Soon it was showing an unmistakable opening which was wide enough for Mom to insert her fingers. She pulled a bit harder and the drawer slid open. Mom eyed Polly and smiled. She said; "See how easy. Now do you think that you can do it?"

Polly had no interest in learning anything. She just wanted to get to her old clothes. So she dismissively said; "I'll just leave it open," and started to rummage through the drawer.

Mom was displeased with Polly's response, so she removed her daughter's hands from the drawer and re-closed it. Mom got up silently and wobbled out.

Polly clucked her tongue and inaudibly mumbled; "Thanks a lot. If I wanted a lesson I'd call stinking Ms. Dermer." She thought about what she had just said and realized that it wasn't true. She didn't want to see Ms. Dermer under any circumstances, no matter how dire, as her approach would probably be to spray insect repellent on the drawer making matters worse. She used her mother's approach and in no time it was again open. Rather than going right for the desired apparel Polly investigated the different items from her youth that managed not to be discarded. The first thing to get her attention was a graying and damaged, multi-colored box that she used to call Pandora. She pushed the silver button, the top flew open and out jumped a velvety red thing with a big head. The huge pressurized spring inside it still worked and the red thing leaped for the ceiling, managing to make it to about six feet in the air, before falling back to the ground. Polly recalled that when she was little she would lock up the red thing in different positions to see if the next release would go further. It didn't seem to make much difference and eventually she gave up and put the box in storage, the bottom drawer. She attempted to put it back away, but found that she had forgotten how to get it back in the box. Every time she thought that her efforts were successful it would spring back out before she could close the top, a few times jumping into her face. It caused no pain and Polly was both surprised and tickled by the ancient one's persistence. She said; "If you want to be out here so badly, fine with me," and she put the box and springy thing back in the drawer next to each other.

Her interest went to a wind-up tin train. Its engine and caboose enclosed five other cars painted to look like caged animals being brought to the new circus site. Lions, tigers, gazelles, monkeys, zebras and other beasts remained still and silent as they waited until they would be released for another show. She wound it up as tightly as she could and put it on the floor. It did just what she remembered it doing ages ago. Without the benefit of a track it went in near circles, the larger ones twice the size of the smaller. The straightforward power supplied by the engine was moderated by the unpredictable movements of the caboose, which determined the near circle's size. Polly recalled winding it up again and again to see if it would ever come back to the same spot where it started. After many excursions, the number of which seemed to challenge infinity, some ending on the other side of the room, she finally got one trip where the engine ended at its approximate starting point, though it was hard to tell if all the cars were in their precise starting position. As this was what she wanted to see she put the train in the drawer and never again looked at it until today. This Easter journey was particularly chaotic as the caboose seemed to have picked up a stronger sense of wildness in the years of rest and its movements determined a strange trip. Sometimes the caboose swung inward and then quickly changed its mind and swung outward. Polly didn't recall this type of activity when she was young. The result of this temporary indecision caused the engine to come to a few near stops, trying to first move in one direction and then changing course. Some near circles were extremely large and some extremely small. Polly laughed as the net result of the whole thing brought the entire train back somewhat near its starting point, none of the cars seeming to be the worse for having made a trip they never had before. She put the train back in the drawer and her eyes went to her puppets. Though tempted to again refresh old memories she decided to save that for another day as she recognized that she was getting diverted from doing what she had come to do; getting some old clothes and playing with Prince. She found an old pair of blue jeans torn at the knees and just below her butt, matching that with a shrunken silvery washed-out sweatshirt with a football logo and the words "New England Patriots" on the front and the number thirteen on the back, both a diluted blood red that now approximated intermittent wine. She changed into them and admired herself in the standing William and Mary cheval glass. The tight top ended at her belly button and the pants above her ankles. She grimaced and thought; "Ridiculous." She kept looking as she twirled to get vantage points from every possible angle. She smiled and thought; "Perfect." Now certain that she was capable of opening the stubborn drawer she closed it and hurried down the stairs.

She passed by Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table where he was still babbling something about the Republican inflicted economic distress and its long term consistency with England's conspiracy to regain world dominance through re-establishment of the colonial system only he and Lyndon LaRouche were adept at seeing from this side of the ocean. Not breaking stride he waved to Polly in an unfocussed manner and Mom held up and wiggled two fingers of her right hand and deadpanned; "Toodles." Dad did a double take and gave Polly a discriminating look, apparently not in full approval of her Easter outfit. Polly correctly detected his wordless commentary and answered it with her tongue, her feet unfazed. Dad repeatedly shook his head in a "yes" fashion and looked to Mom while he waved his arm at Polly as if her appearance was conclusive testimony to his radical economic position. Mom thought of a number of possible responses, but dismissed them all as being too serious and simply smiled and shrugged, giving no hint of approval or dissatisfaction.

Polly went through the back door, slamming it behind her. Sleeping beauty, more commonly known as Prince, was jarred awake by the sound and excitedly ran to her, putting his paws up on her thighs and licking her face. He lowered to ground level and thought he sensed something unusual. It was her pants which had been sitting in the lower drawer undisturbed for years. The mustiness was intriguing and he moved around her sniffing at them seeming intent to investigate every square inch. Polly was amused and said; "Wait until you get a whiff of this sweatshirt." She ran to the tennis ball and threw it across the yard. Prince hesitated a fraction of a second, not sure what he wanted to do, but took off after the bouncing ball. He tried to take it out of the air, but that proved too difficult. He did succeed in knocking the ball further away with each try resulting in an irregular darting and slashing type of maneuver practiced by linebackers. The ball finally came to a stop on the grass and Prince got it firmly in his mouth. Now he had to decide what to do with it. He tried to recall the differing options open to him when playing yesterday, but the closest thing to a pattern he could recall was that the response was whatever felt right at the moment. Yesterday Polly had spent a fair amount of time chasing him, but not yet today. She was standing still watching him. Prince decided to be co-operative and bring the ball back to her. At the same time he could further study what it was that she had in or on her new pants. He trotted over, dropped the ball at her feet and commenced sniffing.

Polly saw their neighbor, Gerald, standing at the bordering eastern fence, grinning into the late day sun and watching the activity. From previous experience Polly was certain that he was ready to articulate his judgment implying questions of the situation in a fashion amusing only to him. Polly pretended not to see him and picked up the ball and threw it toward the western boundary. Prince was still more interested in her pants, so she ran after the ball and he followed. She got to it first and sat on the ground with it in her hands because she wanted an excuse not to be on the other side of the property where Gerald was now pretending to show avid interest in the standpipe five feet from the fence which was attached to an outdoor watering system that had not yet been turned on. Polly glanced in his direction hoping that he had left as she still believed in the possibility of miracles. Prince didn't understand her reluctance to move and tried to pull the ball from her hand intending to run with it. Polly was afraid of that as it would bring them near Gerald, a retired computer technician who knew nothing of anything devoid of programmable plastic parts. If engaged in conversation Gerald always performed a tedious soliloquy about all the intricacies of how his state-of-the-art watering system operated, though it rarely did, which speech he had previously well-rehearsed, chuckling in what he considered the amusing parts, waiting for a return chuckle before continuing his pedantry. If one attempted to re-direct the flow of the chat to any other subject, rather than saying what he knew about it, which was nothing, Gerald would always respond with a question designed to suggest that at his high level of sophistication and education whatever was ventured was incredibly and stupidly opinionated and not worthy of any commentary his feigned broad view encompassed. When Polly told him of what she had learned about local coyote behavior Gerald responded with his customary; "Isn't that just one way of looking at it?" He said that to everything mentioned except his expertise regarding his programmable, non-operating watering system.

Prince settled down somewhat seemingly content to sniff at the "strange" pants on Polly while she considered her next move. Her parents had told her to introduce Prince around and Gerry was about as around as one can get. She thought that she might as well get things over with when Prince stopped showing such an avid interest in her "new" old pants. In the quiet calm Prince heard a sound come from the east that broke the windless silence and ran in its direction. Gerald was squatting by the standpipe, clearly visible in the "overlooked" designer, red baseball cap, which covered his bald head, but allowed the curly, gray Friar Tuck fringe to stick out, unknowingly imitating Bozo without coloring.

Prince's mind was invaded by Apaches in red bandanas playing war drums. As he already had good ideas of where his new boundaries were, but he had a problem with his uncontrollable need to use the very American concept of "eminent domain," and Gerry was close enough to it to warrant an investigation he started the dialogue with a threatening bark. "Grrgrrrgrrrop," he yelled as he approached the noisy man with his hands lovingly on the stem of his standpipe. Gerry wasn't surprised at the sudden company; he knew it would get there sooner or later.

Polly was slowly walking and less than half way there. She was in no rush to get there for a few reasons; first, she liked watching and hearing Prince display what humans would like to had they no manners; and second, she knew she would get there sooner or later.

Gerry feigned fear and put his hands up in front of his chest and popped his eyes and mouth widely open, keeping the pose for only a second as he was uncontrollably compelled to laugh at the mercifully short performance.

Polly was now close enough that she could see his face well and with Gerry laughing and desperate for company she felt required to make an obligatory short smile without parting her lips. Prince toned down a bit when he saw that Polly wasn't agitated, but still was far from thrilled about the intrusion and growled resonantly between the sporadic short barks. The Apaches with weapons stepped out of camera view.

Polly said; "Feel pretty safe with a fence separating you, don't you, Gerry? Oh yeah, 'Happy Easter' and all that."

Gerry wasn't sure if Polly had a momentary lapse or if he'd been dissed and somewhat threatened. If he knew elementary history he would have known that it was the latter case, but his plastic preoccupation precluded the time necessary to learn the matter and resulted in his passion for the most common buzzwords distributed by the coiffed, smiley lady on the 6PM big station "News with Kathy," in some circles referred to as "News to Kathy." He offered a grin weaker than Polly's and said; "Is he vicious?" He bent down to get a better look at Prince's hindquarter's and merrily added; "Or should I have said she? Yuk. Yuk. Yuk," another line funny to one-third of the audience delivered by the flexible plastic man. His wife, Barbie was currently in the hospital recovering from complications associated with her latest plastically surgeoned head fix, so Gerry is in desperate need to berate someone, a surrogate now necessary. One has to say "head" as "face" would no longer apply to every situation as scalp forays have been in evidence for a while demonstrated by her covered bald spot which always manages to protrude from her pink baseball hat.

Hoping it would expedite things Polly chose to play the unwanted game straight and chirped; "Prince is a he and he can be stubborn and protective," as she inserted one hand into Prince's collar, holding him close. Prince thought what seemed logical to him and concluded that the toothy man on the other side of the fence was a friend or that it was all right with Polly for him to be there, completely wrong on one count and middling on the other. People, in what humans would identify as an Independence Day parade with plenty of US flags marched into his head, the red aspect now extremely diluted.

"When are you going to have him trained?"

"When he attacks someone he shouldn't."

"Isn't that a bit .......... cavalier?"

"Not really. We can get away with one. Legally it takes two attacks before there's any real trouble."

Gerry didn't appear shocked; at least he had years of practice covering that up as he never, never wanted to jeopardize the "man of the world" image only he thought he conveyed. At the same time he realized that his proximity to the Thatcher house and his penchant for fence sitting made him the most likely candidate for attack number one.

Gerry's silence made Polly conclude that the conversation was over and she let go of Prince's collar and threw the ball westward. She ran after it with Prince. Gerry called out; "It might be safer to have a few training sessions."

Polly didn't break stride when she saw the opportunity to end the encounter with a bit of a role reversal and said; "How many dogs did you say that you have had?"

Prince easily got to the ball first, picked it up in his mouth, faked right and then went left, eluding Polly. He ran back to the eastern limits as Polly looked to thankfully see that Gerry was either gone or hiding under a rock. The two played for hours. Who was supposed to chase the ball and who was supposed to get it back was not clear at times, but, left to their own volition each would complement the other's willful behavior resulting in both doing what they wanted.

It seemed as if Prince could run forever, or at least that was how it felt to Polly after a few hours. The sun was casting long thin shadows, the temperature decline reminding her of the time of day. She wanted to sit as much as she could, but at the same time wanted Prince to exercise his puppy energy while he had it. Nothing lasts forever. She threw the ball ten feet from her and when Prince got it she was right there and cradled her arms around his neck. She held tight and after enjoying the embrace Prince tried to get free. The struggle didn't last very long as Prince succeeded with the third try, spoiling Polly's plans of tiring him out by holding him in her arms. They just weren't strong enough. She got up and chased him a bit, but couldn't get near. In fatigue she sat on the grass. Prince still wanted to be chased more, but soon got the idea that that was not going to be. He trod to her and she again put her arms around him, but this time when he started squirming she wrapped her legs around his belly. Prince was unable to escape his playful captor though he pushed and pulled with all his might. He used all his energy in a few minutes and then lay tired and still. Polly loosened her leg grip when she felt his body go limp and the two lay there a few minutes without a thought in their heads. The sun was no longer visible, but somehow managed to faintly illuminate the area and made the few low hanging clouds pink-washed fragments perceptible over the now less dominant gray.

Polly petted his neck and got up. She said; "We've got to eat," held up one finger and went in the house. She found the dog dish and food Mom had promised on the kitchen counter and proceeded to dole out an appropriate portion. She brought it to Prince. Initially he ate voraciously, but as he saw Polly going back to the house he looked up and his face showed surprise, as when one first hears of a death. Polly came back to him and scratched his head at which point he re-discovered the dish. She said; "I wish you could understand. After Mom and Dad are asleep I'll come back for you, just like last night." Prince didn't understand a word but was re-assured by her concerned tone and distracted by his appetite.

Polly re-entered the house and took another portion of the meatloaf to the unoccupied kitchen table. The tiny red dots on the microwave silently and imperfectly informed her that it was 5:30, though the precise reading was something like a squared off "S," followed by a colon, followed by a squared off "M" standing on its side and an unconnected almost rectangle, the only suggestion of flawlessness emanating from the colon. Polly needed a drink and noticed the open wine bottle. She sometimes considered herself too serious a child and wanted to be as goofy as her parents who probably are getting some help from the spirits. She went to the counter, looked at the bottle, again looked at the bottle and wondered if she would get caught. She had never noticed any visible evidence on her parents. Sure they acted like nuts but they were capable of that without drinking. They didn't grow any warts or lesions and their noses didn't grow. If she was accused of behaving nutty she could always say that she learned it from them or Prince. As she decided to pour she felt a tickle on her exposed belly and nervously jumped, thinking that some apparition out of a Stephen King movie had an interest. She turned to see her Dad and exhaled heavily. He simply stared at her face and Polly felt it necessary to blurt out; "I was just going to put the cork back in," in the process effectively confessing her guilt and simultaneously lying.

Dad furrowed his brow and said; "Polly."

Polly knew she was caught. Worse, she was caught for something she didn't even get to do. With a combination of shame and frustration she said; "All right, all right. I was only going to have a little."

Dad picked her up, gave her a big kiss and a squeeze and said; "I'd rather you didn't."

Polly happily put her arms around him and kissed him back. She said; "I promise."

Dad put her back on the floor and she added; "But you guys really shouldn't leave it lying around like that. It's tempting."

Dad corked the bottle and put it into a cabinet top shelf and poured Polly a tall glass of ice tea. She brought it to the table and placed it near her meatloaf. Dad started to walk away, stopped and said; "We're going to sleep early. Drinking wore us out. You know, it does away with your inhibitions, but it takes its toll. You and Prince don't yet have any inhibitions, so the only thing it will do for you are make you dizzy and nauseous. You'll probably puke swearing that you'll never do it again as your face is in the toilet bowl. Large charge."

Polly nodded as she ate and Dad again commenced his journey to the bedroom, but turned to say one more thing; "I know that you brought Prince inside last night."

Polly looked up fearful of an unwanted direct order.

Dad was at the door when he added; "And it's all right with me, because everything went all right."

Polly smiled heartily as he exited and then he popped his head in again to say; "But if he goes anywhere in the house you have to clean it up. No ifs, ands or buts."

He left and she called out; "Thanks, promise." He came back again to add; "But, don't tell any of the neighbors about it; all right?"

Polly suspected that she knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from her Dad, saying; "Sure, all right, but why?"

"Because they're weird, you know. Just don't volunteer the information. It's none of their business anyway. Can you imagine anyone asking if your dog sleeps with you? I take that back. I can imagine it. If they do ask, lie and say he sleeps on a pillow in the triangular room. Actually, that's not a lie because he does sleep there sometimes. ............ See how confusing this all gets when other people get involved. Freedom is clandestine. Do you know what I mean?" He should have asked Prince.

"Yes, sort of and not exactly." Dad opened his mouth to say more, but Polly quickly added; "I know that just like you don't like outsiders knowing that Mom has as much to say as you do, maybe more," she paused briefly and giggled, "You don't want outsiders to know that I sleep with my puppy. Talk about weird. But, no problem, I'll handle it."

"Smart girl."

"Woman."

Dad appeared to be dazed.

Polly said; "Just kidding."

Dad smiled and again turned to leave, but Polly was compelled to say; "For a while."

Dad turned back, but this time silently smiling. Polly went to him and jumped into his arms, gave him a big fat wet kiss and said; "I'll always be your little girl."

Polly ate and drank mulling over the events of a pleasant Easter. Two working parents made holidays less of an occasion than it was in times past, at least according to the books she had read. Something gained, something lost. She wondered which side of the equation was pre-eminent. She thought; "It's not possible to gauge such things, except in the few extreme cases. How many turtles equal one puppy?" She finished and went to her Easter basket which was resting on a small fragment of the kitchen counter, set away from the larger, continuous, main section, took out a chocolate bunny and relished the slightly slippery feel in her mouth. Afraid that they might be melting, Polly put the rest of the chocolate animals in the refrigerator and went out to Prince, toting the remainder of the meatloaf wrapped in aluminum foil.

The half-moon's light was sufficient, so she turned on no flood light. She didn't see him and was troubled because she had expected him to either be there or come running to her. "Prince," she called out in a typical speaking voice which was magnified in the dark stillness. No answer. "Prince, don't hide from me. You're starting to freak me out." She thought about the possibility of him being gone as it would be fairly easy for him to tunnel under the wire fencing if not hop it. She knew of a coyote den within a mile and that its residents prowl the area for easy pickings, especially un-enclosed chickens. She was told that they were afraid of humans and generally wouldn't bother with a sizable dog, unless they were desperate. She realized that her mind was racing, but that didn't enable her to bring it down to street speed, anyway. Her voice elevated; "Prince!" Absolute silence prevailed allowing her to hear her breath. She went into the triangular room and there he was contentedly sleeping on his pillow as if nothing happened. Polly exclaimed; "Prince, don't ever do that again." Prince looked up dumbfounded and yawned. Polly dropped to the floor and put her arms around him. Still befuddled Prince thought; "I don't know what I did, but I'm going to do it more often. You're early." Polly unfolded the aluminum foil and presented him with the remains of the meatloaf. He stood up and stretched out his legs before burying his face in the surprise meal. Now feeling privileged, as he ate he tried to think of what magic he could have possibly done to deserve this fine treatment, intending to memorize the procedure. He thought; "Sleeping? No, I've done that many times. Sleeping in the triangular room? Maybe, but that doesn't seem to be any sort of accomplishment. Sleeping on a pillow in the triangular room? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Why are the important things always the hardest to figure out?"

When he was done eating Polly attached the single length chain to his collar and led him to her room. He leaped to the bed while she changed into her yellow Dr. Seuss jammies before joining him. She got behind him and put her arm around his belly, closing her eyes. Prince was now wide awake and put his chin flat to the bed. He thought; "I'll never comprehend. I don't know what great thing I did and then she woke me up to put me back to sleep. Humans are weird, some nicely so."
Chapter 10

Prince eventually drifted off to the soothing and steady tick-tock of the Art Nouveau clock musing about the pleasant changes in his life and the mysterious Polly with all her eccentricities and inconsistencies. He wasn't the least bit displeased or troubled; it was merely a matter of canine curiosity. She had a fragrant warm body and sleeping next to her was even better than the pillow he had to inadequately heat up himself.

RING. RING. RING. RING. Prince jumped up ready to fight and looked around for the challenger. He indicated his readiness by saying; "Grrrr. Woof. Grrr." Polly also got up, though more conventionally and pushed the clock's off button. She said; "It's just a clock but I hate when it rings too."

Prince didn't understand, but her sound was not one of alarm, so he went off full alert. But to be on the safe side he got off the bed and checked under it and behind furniture. Finding nothing capable of attacking anything, only dust competent at producing sneezes, Prince jumped back into bed, but Polly remained on her feet. She smacked her hands against her thighs and said; "Come on. Come on, lazy boy." Her intentions were clear to Prince, but he looked to the window and saw that the sun had not yet risen. He squiggled his body on the bed attempting to bury himself further in. He gutturally cleared his throat. Polly thought that rather than try to move a stubborn dog that it was a better idea to show him something that would make him want to move. She went to the kitchen, put dog food in a dish and brought it to the bedroom. She stayed at the doorway and soon Prince whiffed something delectable. He sniffed at the air. His laziness was overwhelmed by the strong suggestion of food. Prince got out of bed and walked to Polly. She held the plate over her head, walked down the stairs slowly so as not to trip over the excited and curious dog and continued into the back yard. She placed it on the grass twenty feet from the door. Prince thought that his energetic efforts were responsible for the end of the silly game and he ate as fast as he could, just in case Polly decided to take the meal back. She said; "Bye, bye, Prince," a phrase she intended him to understand in time to mean; "I'll be gone for a while," and went back inside.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," delightedly groaned Prince. He finished as quickly as usual and looked around the place as well as he could under moonlight. It didn't look treacherous but the dark also didn't disclose all its wares. Prince thought he'd investigate a bit later, the sun bound to show up and lend assistance. Right now a cushion in the triangular room seemed the best choice available.

Polly didn't think she had the luxury of going back to bed, as she'd soon have to prepare for another school day. She went into the kitchen and heated up her own Nature's Delight spicy, black bean sausages and Honey's scrambled eggs with cherry tomatoes and six green beans in herb-lemon Chardonnay sauce. She was secretly proud that at age ten she had already learned all of her mother's cooking skills, but didn't want to say that in fear of getting it as a full-time job. "That motionless microwave can prove to me that it's still alive." She pushed the right buttons and it purred.

Having completed his morning patrol of the fence borders and finding it satisfactory inasmuch as Prince couldn't detect any hiding enemies, he was aimlessly jaunting around giving attention to whatever interesting aroma or shape got his interest at the moment when he heard two car engines start very nearby. He ran to the small western fence and saw Mom, Dad and Polly leave. "All right, I'll look at the home grown stuff some more and I'll guard the place while you're gone, hopefully not too long."

Polly was less content with her day than Prince. She wished she could be with him, but instead here she had a front row seat in the Ms. Dermer fifth grade show, complete with the fragrance of the day; bleach. Though not pleasant Polly had to admit that this was a distinct improvement over formaldehyde. She optimistically thought; "Maybe she'll soon upgrade to air spray." As Ms. Dermer read from "THE WESTERN BEND HISTORY OF SOUTHWESTERN AMERICA FOR YOUNG PEOPLE; Convincing Ethnocentrism in a Learning Format," the class stared at their desks and pretended to be taking notes filling their pads with thickly detailed black and white versions of an elaborate yin-yang symbol or a standing vision of a yet to be discovered insect, depending on point of view. Kids had no copy as for some reason the book had not been approved by the timid and stodgy school authorities. Polly could care less as her mind was elsewhere. So as not to get caught at this kind of disrespect and receive the consequent stupid public form of chastisement, she stared directly at the teacher, maybe reader a better description, but saw what was in her mind; Prince in her back yard coupled with her walking with him somewhere absolutely wild. She realized that this was a fantasy as the closest she would be getting to anything wild was the Bosque, a maximum 500 foot deep strip of land bordering the river. If one went to river's edge they would be no more than 800 feet from the nearest house. She pictured a path in a thick and deep pine forest. It was chillier than she expected as the dense needles let little light through. The path consistently went up as if they were on a mountain and he was impatiently trying to bring her to the top. Prince kept the chain taut as he would have nothing of the "Slow, slow" stuff he kept hearing. He seemed preoccupied with getting to something; something he must think will disappear if he doesn't get there soon. She had trouble following him as he easily took the curves and she had trouble, both physical and mental. Sometimes she had to slow down more than usual to navigate branches at her head level while Prince saw no such difficulty from his lower vantage point. She also held back a bit because she was a bit afraid that waiting beyond the next curve will be a bear. She laughed when she thought to herself; "The way he's going, if we find a bear, Prince will find him first and scare him away." She heard a thunderclap; no, it was a much-too-fat book closing. Polly re-adjusted her focus and saw Ms. Dermer take off her almost unframed glasses and slowly elevate her carcass from her seat. She turned to write something on the blackboard and all Polly saw was what looked like a heavy, glittery, orange by way of brown set of curtains she had accidentally brushed against when she was in the "Flushed Fowl Motel" on a weekend trip to Ruidoso which almost covered the teacher's back. The blackboard soon announced; "Quiz tomorrow on attempted forced Christianity of Native Americans by Spanish." Ms. Dermer turned to the class wearing one of her infrequent smiles. The nature of it was apparent when the afternoon sun caused an intermittent shine to emanate from the red on a white background, tin Saint George's cross chained around her neck, now resting on the front of the draperies. The bell sounded the end of another school day for Polly.

She dawdled some taking plenty of time to adjust her backpack allowing all her classmates to depart. She walked to the front of the school and waited for her mother near the driveway.

Prince was unaware of it, but he too, actually learned a history lesson. Over the course of seven hours he was adept at chasing away intruders who showed an unwarranted interest in his new home. By ferociously barking and showing teeth he scared off three repairmen, seven or eight SUV's and two panel trucks sent by "The Water Guy's Affordable Sprinkler Service," all mysteriously having an inordinate need to dally by his fence. The price of liberty is eternal vigilance. He failed to nap during his busy day and was tired. He tried numerous times, but was always quickly disturbed by the rumble of the road or the loud, laughing human chit-chat. He wondered what it was that was so valuable in Polly's house and for the time being concluded that it must be her bed, as that was his favorite thing. Who could possibly want the wooden and plastic things taking up romping space on the floors? But the bed; now that was a different story, with its plush comfort and warmth, who would care about anything else? He was not aware that if he had some way of making his thoughts known they would be considered his pretty predictable predatory pileous puppy perspective permeating peak passages, soon expected to change when he reached "dog" status. What do they know about it?

Just as he got to his pillow he heard something disturbing the gravel driveway and ran to the fence to investigate. Instead of barking like a maniac and showing his incisors he wagged his tail when he saw it was Polly and her mother. Polly exited, immediately saw him and ran over. She gave him a sloppy pet necessitated by the obstruction of the wire "horse" fencing. She held up one index finger meaning that she would be right back and trotted after her mother.

Prince had mixed feelings. He was very glad to see Polly, but he was exhausted from a full day of work he'd never be able to tell her about. He slowly walked toward the back door, stopped short of it and flopped in the grass with a sigh. He must have drifted off into a dreamless sleep as the next thing he knew Polly was next to him wearing her old clothes. She shook him and said; "Come on. I'm ready!" He didn't want to offend her, so he stood up and imitated a happy posture; his tongue out and his tail wagging. He may have gotten adequate sleep as he now felt at least mentally enthused. She put Marian's long leash on him and he led her to the triangular room. When she unbolted the door they went through the garage, down the driveway and into the asphalt paved road.

Seeing no impediments Prince pulled Polly left heading back to the puddles. She had no choice other than slowing him down as she couldn't keep up and as a result his neck got an occasional silent stop signal, jerking him back, but he kept the same speed apparently unfazed by the physical inconvenience bordering on out and out pain. As is the usual case with Camino De Lucia, an impediment presented itself. "Chrissy," a sixty year old, gray haired, resident complaint monger was walking toward him, her head shaking as if she had Parkinson's disease or that she was speaking to some imaginary person at her side; and worse her unleashed, young, black hound mix was ahead of her and running.

Prince, too, started running, detracted by Polly's hold on the leash, but intending to get up a head of steam sufficient to meet any challenge. He heard Gene Krupa's manic drumming and saw visions of a red-throated hound. He growled as loudly as he could and saliva fell to the ground. Polly and Chrissy started yelling things at the same time, cancelling each other out. When the hound got near Prince he saw that his excited attempt at friendship was not the best idea he had ever come up with, stopped and went back to Chrissy, who angrily made a production of finding his leash. Prince felt badly as he now knew he had unnecessarily gone into combat stance when a potential friend approached him. But, he didn't know what else to do as a delay in responding to an attack could be deadly. He tried to calmly walk to the scared hound, but Chrissy kept her body between them and forcefully told Polly; "Keep that dog away from mine."

Polly was also frightened by the hound's charge and quickly responded; "He's on a leash. Try doing the same yourself and there will be no problem."

Chrissy said; "He's a nice dog."

Annoyed with the inference that Prince wasn't nice, Polly yelled; "So is he. But, I didn't know that the law made exceptions for NICE dogs," referring to the town's leash law. "Every idiot thinks their dog is nice."

Chrissy deadpanned; "Including you," as she made an insulted fabrication of getting by Prince, who wanted to give the hound a canine apology; a face lick.

Polly shortened her grip on his leash and with difficulty held Prince next to her. She surmised his situation and said; "They can be properly introduced on their leashes. That's the best way."

Thinking that redundancy was effective at a multiplicative rate or demonstrating a deficiency in short term memory, Chrissy said; "Keep that vicious dog away from us."

"How would you feel if a strange dog came charging at you?"

Chrissy felt proud to say; "I wouldn't growl and spit," as she wiped the drool from her chin.

Seeing no possibility of her apologetic puppy making a friend Polly kept walking as Prince dawdled, looking back at the unsure hound. They eventually made eye contact and Prince visibly sighed, as if to say; "What does she expect me to do?"

Polly shook her head slowly and mumbled; "I don't know. She's lived here longer than anyone else and thinks she owns the place." She giggled when she added; "She may actually have been on this planet longer than anyone else."

Prince didn't understand, but saw a way to forget his sorrow; mud puddles. He ran right at yesterday's passion with Polly running in exhilaration behind him. He splashed through them with Polly to the side attempting to stay on her feet at full speed. Now experienced in the art of mud-running she remained erect as he splashed and slid through the dirty, wet delights. The splatters generated by his feet sprayed her pants with dripping dots. Thoughts of Chrissy disappeared as they frolicked until both of Prince's back legs went out from under him. He fell and sat in the mud with an embarrassed look on his face. Polly chortled and Prince felt extremely silly with his rear end entirely brown, wishing that she didn't laugh at him. But he quickly realized that he did look ridiculous and was glad she displayed her honest reaction. He got up running, oblivious to any audience.

Two eyes and a possible brain was in its customary place; the window of its misshapen house. A Stephen King corridor of imaginarily flowing blood was in the brain part, seeing the horror, but also seeing its hilarity in that no one to date has ever drowned in blood. Brain thought; "We have some degree of evidence that miracles have been performed, but no one even believes that, so fat chance the blood is going to scare me. Sure, somebody gets stuck cleaning it up, but that's about as bad as it can truly get." The humorously macabre mood shone in the eyes and it was time to put the rest of the body in motion. Two eyes and brain has been a reluctant, but regular visitor to a psychiatrist office, with no termination immediately foreseen. TEAB has never wondered what would happen if he didn't pay his bill for a while.

He put on the modified vampire costume his mother gave him permission to buy when he was ten years old. Sure, its thirty years later, but he still lives with his mother and with some adjustments the outfit is still wearable. His hero is Norman Bates. This was funny to him as he saw the opportunity to disobey his mother with some danger of getting caught and to scare someone dumber than he was.

He went out a side door and saw the dirty ten year old girl with her dirty dog. He approached slowly and quietly as he wished to produce a surprise effect. It worked as the duo were so involved with each other that Polly ran right into him, but it had its drawbacks as he didn't anticipate getting hit as hard as he did. Polly came to a whirling halt, looked up at TEAB's face and screamed, then reverted to appropriate manners and said; "Sorry."

Prince mildly growled, part with a high pitch, trying to convey more curiosity than threat. He was interested in the face and considered the black cape and clothes strange for the suburbs. It was worthy of further scrutiny.

TEAB was trying to re-gain his wind. He was slightly stooped over and he held up one hand as if to say; "Wait a minute."

Polly thought she detected something more bizarre than Prince did and tried to keep him moving, so that she could get as far away from the man with the clown face as possible. Prince was unfortunately stubborn right at this moment and continued to eyeball their new acquaintance.

Breathing heavily and sporadically, TEAB chastised; "You really should watch where you're going."

Polly resisted laughing as she was very uncomfortable, but also thought that was one of the dumbest things the weird clown could say. She again said; "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She tried to move Prince to no avail.

TEAB raised his arms, expanding the attached cape, bulged out his eyes and said; "You should be afraid of vampires," trying to be ominous.

Polly was stuck in this spot as long as Prince wouldn't move and she realized that if this nut caused her any trouble he would handle it. She said; "You look more like a clown."

"I'm a vampire."

"Clown."

"Vampire."

"Clown. Who ever heard of a vampire with crisscrossed mascara and big red lips?"

TEAB considered her point and couldn't argue with it. His confidence shaken by his rushed inattention to detail, he tried to think of some plausible explanation and said; "I'm on my way to a costume party disguised as one of the Insane Clown Posse."

Polly said; "Ooooh, I hate them."

"They're good. They did this stuff before anyone ever heard of Eminem."

"They probably did it before Moses, too. They're old enough to be my grandfather." She thought; "God forbid. Imagine them visiting over the holidays."

TEAB was flustered as he wasn't scaring this little girl and her dog looked as if he wanted to be friends and he was insulted that anyone would call his favorite rappers, ICP, old and not so great. He said; "Oh, I guess they're just too bad for little Miss Suburban."

She put her tongue between her lips and made a "thphtthpht" sound, then seeing that they were at an aesthetic impasse said; "You want to pet my dog? I think he likes you."

TEAB was confused as he didn't expect that anyone would like him; no one had yet. He gazed at Prince's interested face and his wagging tail. He decided to get on one knee and say a close-up "hello." Prince licked some of the red dye off TEAB's nose and received caresses on his neck. TEAB smiled and asked; "What's his name?"

Polly said; "Prince, appropriately."

TEAB continued his petting and said; "Glad to meet you Mr. Appropriately."

Polly said; "No, no ........."

TEAB smiled at both of them, ever more meaningful with his gigantic red lips and said; "I know. I know. I'm just trying to be silly; like this outfit."

Polly smiled again and she saw someone approaching from the rear. A heavyset older woman wearing loose lime pants and a tan blouse, reminiscent of a dying broadleaf garden weed called out; "Rod-nee."

TEAB whispered; "Oh no. It's my mother. I'm going to get killed."

Polly said; "Well, you know it could be seen as a little weird for you to be out here dressed like a clown."

Rodney retorted; "Vampire."

Polly started to say; "You know what I mean," but was only able to get to the "You know what" part when Mommy interjected; "Rodney Claiborne, you get right into the house this instant!"

Rodney's forty year old laugh lines were highlighted by the vague declining sun, making them resemble craters and he mumbled; "Aw, Mom."

Polly found the whole thing amusing and almost stifled a small laugh. Prince mentally prepared to battle the quickly oncoming battleship.

Mom spoke harshly to Polly, saying; "What is so funny?"

Polly said; "I had to sneeze. Do you mind?"

Mom failed to specify her preference in the matter and directed her conversation at Rodney, Rod-knee and TEAB, though she was not familiar with the acronym. Mom took him by the hand and led him toward the house, saying; "I wish your father was here to see this, God rest his soul. He'd of known what to do with you."

Rodney was watching Polly's reaction to his demise and kept looking back at her, hoping that she didn't regard him as big an idiot as everyone else did. Polly's kindness overtook her sense of humor. She gave a wave and said; "See ya' Rodney. Good luck."

Rodney tried to walk slower than his mother to show that he had some say so, resulting in him being noticeably jerked. With a quick burst he said; "If dad was here he'd let me have some fun."

"Fun? Fun? You call that fun? Why, I'd expect that at the very least .......... " Her voice became completely unintelligible when the door slammed.

Polly and Prince looked to each other and neither had a simple comment or explanation. She said; "I think Rodney's a friend," and they walked on.

Presently out of puddles and therefore less excited Prince moved slowly. That is by his standards. Polly would describe his gait unknowingly in baseball terms; "He took a little off the fast ball." She would also come to know that unlike her state-of-the-art stainless steel space heater Prince really had only two speeds; fast and stop, with the current pace being the best break her legs ever would have. He spotted a curious rabbit about fifty feet up an unfenced property and upped his tempo to the hilt pulling Polly. At the magic ten foot imaginary boundary she held the leash firmly and leaned away from him. Most properties being fenced this was the first time he had to stop due to some unseen line of demarcation. Polly tried a new command-request on him and said; "Not too far!" holding him at the ten foot line. Prince thought this was either a mistake or that Polly was being unreasonable, so he pulled away while she pulled back. He was maddened, but still determined as he thought that he was stronger and if he remained persistent that he would get to meet the interesting bunny up close. He pulled and pulled, but all he succeeded in doing was establishing the beginning of a neck rash. This girl was a lot stronger than he previously thought and new tactics were in order.

She tried to steer him away and repeated; "Not too far!" Prince reflected on the sound of her three short words. He associated the brevity with being resolute, though the tone was imploring, so he decided to growl and see if he could change the resolution. He looked in her eyes with menace on his mind, growled like he meant it and tried to pull away. As his neck got another dose of whiplash he heard; "NOT-TOO-FAR," this time in no uncertain terms. He grumbled and sighed thinking he was owed an explanation that couldn't possibly come. "If the rabbit can go there why can't I?" He dragged his feet and grudgingly followed Polly. She petted his head and said; "You're the best dog." While he was proud of the contented display he would have been happier to have made closer contact with the privileged rabbit. He turned his head to take one last look and it appeared as though the wily rabbit stuck out his tongue at him. Prince bristled, slowed down and made a noise that sounded like "mmrrph" at the bold bunny who now was on his hind legs doing something with his front pair.

Polly suspected what he was thinking, but couldn't come up with any way of assuaging his dismay. Fully expecting that it would mean nothing to him she said; "Invisible lines are drawn all over the place. I know where many are, but you'll have to learn. It's not that big a deal. Some people believe that they have something precious and everyone else wants to get it. How would you like it if anyone who felt like it could come in our back yard?" She thought that the dialogue was much too long, but it was the best she thought of. Prince agreed and looked at her as if she was a post-modern author lecturing on the inevitability of marginalization as if it were a recent phenomenon. She came up with another idea. She stopped and used the side of her sneaker to draw a line in the dirt. She said; "This is your side," as she stepped to the other side. Prince immediately followed her and she said; "No, no this is my side," and ushered him back to his place, having to cross onto his side to do so. She saw that this had no shot at doing anything other than confusing him, as she went to his side and he went to hers when she returned to it.

She sighed heavily and considered the matter hopeless as Prince happily looked to her after violating the "boundary." She didn't know that he was thinking; "My side is your side and that's all there is to it."

They silently "walked" until they saw Sandra and Felipe with their shaggy white Lab mix Rosalita. Like Prince she was leashed and also like Prince she furiously pulled at it attempting to meet a new friend as quickly as possible. Prince had a slightly different viewpoint; he considered the possibility of attack when he charged. Both dogs were stopped five feet from each other, though it wasn't of their own volition. Felipe wrinkled his brow as he easily held back Rosalita and watched with concern how Polly was having trouble with Prince. He said; "Is that dog all right?"

Polly wasn't sure what he meant and answered the question five different ways, saying; "He's not sick. Not physically anyway. He's a fighting dog. He's all right with me. I don't know if he's all right with you."

Felipe shook his head, nervously watching Polly's tenuous hold on Prince and rapid fire said; "No, that's not what I mean. Will he attack?"

Polly wished she could be more re-assuring, but said; "I really don't know. I haven't seen him with many dogs yet. He's new."

Sandra looked down at Felipe, unintentionally vibrated her full figured body when she shook her head and said; "Well, okay. But maybe we ought to keep them apart."

Felipe's stature dictated that his eyelevel was at Sandra's bosom, which he enjoyed in private, but felt exposed by in public. It reminded him of his pocket-sized stature, while at the same time touching a nerve or a gland or something. He thought it risky, but he was compelled to invite the inevitable. Ignoring Sandra as best he could he looked to tiny Polly and countered with; "We should get this over with because this is going to happen again. Do you have a good hold on him?"

Polly wrapped the chain around her forearm and held Prince closely. She gave a mixed message as she mildly shook her head "no," but said; "Yep."

Felipe momentarily turned to Sandra and said; "Do all you women talk alike?"

Sandra raised her voice a few octaves and said; "Don't you start up with me now." She then smiled, patted his head and pulled his ponytail as if he were Prince.

Felipe let Rosalita inch forward. Her tail wagged and Prince quickly reproduced her behavior. They began sniffing each other all over, then settled face to face for a mutual "window of the soul" study. As the dogs made cow eyes Felipe reached down and rubbed Prince's back, saying; "Good boy, good boy." As the experiment seemed successful all parties wore smiles. Felipe stood straight, again looked to Sandra and said; "Smart dog. He knows to be careful around the ladies."

Polly and Sandra weren't sure what he meant if anything, but neither wanted to spoil the moment. They remained silent and content, thinking; "Yeah, you should be careful around the ladies," for different reasons than Felipe joked of. Prince and Rosalita also chose to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Sandra said; "Many people around here are afraid of Rosalita because she runs right over to them."

Polly kept her eye on Prince just to be sure that something wouldn't go wrong and said; "I'm learning. I kind of expected that, but the way they do it is surprising me."

Sandra replied; "I think I know what you mean. The funniest thing to me is that if I taught Rosalita to be aloof the same people who claim to be afraid of her now would come over to her and ask why she's so anti-social. Some people are just born to complain."

Felipe chimed in with; "They think that they appear superior, impeccably mannered, tasteful or discriminating when everyone else thinks they're just something to be avoided. When they have something legitimate to complain about nobody listens. Well, listen Polly. It was good meeting you and Prince. Next time we'll let them run right at each other. I think they're in love." The couple walked away and Prince tried to follow.

"No, no, no, no, no," Polly said softly as she held onto the leash with both hands. Rosalita looked back and Prince let out a small whimper and thought; "Polly, you've got to be kidding me on this one. That's my woman." He suspected that Polly was adamant in her decision and that Felipe and Sandra wanted to leave for some reason, so it would probably do him no good to try to break away. If successful the departure process would just be repeated, he might jeopardize his good relationship with Felipe and Sandra and therefore Rosalita and he would offend Polly. He thought that he'd like to put on a little show for Rosalita though, so he pranced side to side giving the appearance that he was desperately trying to get free, but at the same time caused no inconvenience for Polly. She thought that she understood what he was doing and thought; "That's a pretty complicated maneuver. Keep doing stuff like that and someday you're going to get an IQ test."

In a short time they were again at the fork in the road. Prince stopped to see if Polly would indicate a preference and she did the same. This time he didn't wait to see the song and dance routine and went down the straight path. He first saw smaller and older Southwestern houses in varying states of repair, some showing signs of current restoration work. No people or dogs were there to distract him and as a consequence he heard the slight wind rustle through the few trees and bushes blooming there. His puddle search was satisfied about half way down in one large spot in front of a corral inhabited by four burros. The pronounced gully holding the muddy water was so deep and generous that it must have been created by someone utilizing heavy machine tools to establish a drainage system. He bolted for it and as a result of his speed he lost his footing and slid through half of it on his back, coming up appearing more like a chocolate lab than a Dalmatian. He shook off as much as he could, which worked reasonably well for his body, but was woefully insufficient for his head and eyes. After his front paws re-established passable vision he saw that Polly and four burros were laughing uncontrollably. His first reaction was embarrassment primarily due to Polly's reaction. He didn't care what four stupid burros thought, remembering that in some circles they were referred to as jackasses. He showed his defiance in barking at the burros, intending to convey; "You just wish you could do this you big jackass," to which the burros made no understandable reply, continuing their laughter, either because they had no answer to his true statement or because their advanced sophistication suggested that they couldn't possibly be seen talking to a mere dog.

Even though he had had his fill Prince again entered the puddle, this time at a slower pace and he looked sideways at the four arbiters of taste standing in their own dung. He brought down his front paws heavily in an attempt to splash some of the mud on the self-satisfied group living enclosed by a wire fence. He wanted to get some on Polly, too, but was unable to reach anyone. The laughter continued but now it seemed strained as at a cocktail party with neighbors. He knew he didn't have anything to lose as he was already covered with mud, so he did a belly flop in the puddle's deepest spot, without having had the benefit of seeing the fat kid perform the same maneuver at the public pool. He managed to disperse about half the soft mud, some of it hitting the respectable ones and Polly.

Polly didn't seem to care and continued her laughter, now at her own spotted condition, thinking that she must resemble a "Liver" Dalmatian, one with brown spots. The burros turned their backs and made ear-splitting untranslatable "uh-uh-brak-brak-brak" sounds that must have some prayer-like significance in their world as they all seemed intent on saying it repetitiously, despite rudely cutting off other burros to do so. Prince thought that the rear view he was now given resulted in a distinct improvement and chuckled as he watched the unwashed derrieres perform a "Shaker" ritual as if the Load was upon them while he slowly played in his puddle.

They heard a car disturb the nearby gravel. Mary Jane, the sixtyish owner of the huge two story adobe with multi-colored leaded glass windows on some of the upper floor and the puddles and the burros came out the petite front door and yelled; "Hey, that's my puddle." She didn't show any evidence of having been in it recently, but Polly took the effervescent woman's word and gave Prince a serious tug. Prince thought she was making a belated reaction to his splash, made a small growl and defiantly sat right there in the remainder of the wetness.

Polly saw the woman's unzipped pink jacket with the broken yellow peace sign, half on each side and thought; "Uh, oh. Both are being absurd and I'm going to get caught in the middle." She didn't relish being the voice of reason as she fancied herself playing that role much too often with her parents. After all she was only ten years old and had plenty of time for rationalism later in life; much, much later.

Mary Jane displayed her rolling gait and brushed back her waist length dirty blond hair, stared at Prince and either squinted a smile or had a reaction to the sun in her clear, unencumbered, naked eyes.

Prince suspected that there would soon be support troops for Polly's endeavor and thought that he should give fair warning that he was not a dog to be trifled with. He made a discernible growl and heard the drums beat out their commanding cadence. He crouched, ready to pounce.

Polly saw his posture and wanted to avert the possible confrontation, so she said to Mary Jane; "Give him a chance. He doesn't understand." She again tried a tug, but Prince ignored it, his eyes focused on the approaching destroyer of fun.

Mary Jane said; "I'm just kidding. He can play in my puddle as long as he likes." She bent over some and using a childish voice she added; "I just want to meet the dirtiest pretty boy. It's a boy, right?"

Polly was visibly relieved, her body now depleted of starch. She said; "Yeah, that's a boy all right. But, could you just hang back a little. He's freaked."

Mary Jane stopped and directed her conversation to Prince, saying; "I don't want your silly puddle. I have a hot tub."

Prince forgot the loudest of the drumbeats. He was encouraged, but not completely certain and he emitted a sound designed to convey both confidence and polite questioning, which sounded like a slightly high pitched "Aarroooo." He cocked his head to one side and softened his gaze.

Polly said; "He's getting there, but wait a little bit."

In a blasé manner Mary Jane said; "I know. I've had plenty of dogs and those burros aren't exactly easy to handle." She shook her head slightly and spoke softly to Prince, saying; "Do you really think I want to touch your dirty little body?" She turned completely to Polly and added; "When they get like that the best thing is to ignore them. When did you get him?"

"Day before yesterday from the shelter. They said he was a fighting dog."

"Most any dog will fight if you don't give him any other option."

Polly had a new perspective and her mind wandered to her short experience with Prince to see if that "truism" applied to him. She didn't want to be contradictory, but it seemed to her that for Prince, fighting is often his first thought and not a backup plan. She just nodded affirmatively not wanting to make him sound "bad."

"What's his name?"

"Prince and I'm Polly."

"Mary Jane."

Prince knew his name and that they were talking about him, but neither woman looked his way. He thought it necessary to join the conversation to clear up any possible misunderstandings. He slowly walked over and looked up at their faces.

Polly said; "He's okay now. You want to pet him?"

"Not yet. Let him wait a bit more. It always works when you ignore them. Even succeeds on my husband." She laughed and added; "Most of the time."

Polly also laughed, genuinely amused and had an initial recollection that her mother often did that when Dad got persnickety. She filed the thought away for future reference.

Prince let out a whine and put his dirty paws on Polly's pants, as if he wanted to climb to another level.

Polly held his paws and Mary Jane petted his head and said; "All right. He's waited long enough." Polly put his paws back on the ground and Mary Jane spoke very babyishly to Prince as she stroked him all over, saying; "I knew you were a sweetheart. Who are you trying to fool with that growling act? Who? Who? Tell me who?"

Prince could tell that Mary Jane liked him and that was enough for him to feel good and completely forget the drums. He was still curious about what they were saying of him, but couldn't find a way to ask.

Mary Jane, still smiling and petting, said; "Does he think he's the boss?"

Polly was already getting somewhat sensitive about the commentaries she had been receiving concerning her perceived lack of control over Prince, but she sensed that Mary Jane was a friend and didn't want to make a surly answer. She calmly replied; "I'd like him to be able to do whatever he wants as long as it doesn't hurt me. He's really got the sweetest nature. The big idea about getting him was that my parent's primarily want me to have something to protect me from the crazies, so even if I could train him to be docile, that's not what we want."

"Do you like it when he pulls you around and gets you muddy?"

Polly said; "He's more co-operative than he appears to others and I really don't mind. That's why I wear clothes like this when we go walking." She made a small giggle and pointed to her mud-spotted high water pants and tight, short sweatshirt.

"Don't you mind when other people look at you as some kind of sucker for allowing his behavior?"

Polly quickly and boldly answered; "I don't care what they think, if they think anything." She immediately realized that she was lying, but offered no correction. She thought; "That would have been a truthful response just a few days ago, but the unsolicited opinions are already wearing on me. Am I supposed to curtail his behavior, at the same time making both of us less adventurous, to possibly satisfy people who I really don't respect? Their commanding judgmental attitudes, in and of themselves, are enough for me not to value their views. I know that some people were born complainers and if it wasn't Prince they'd be advising me about clothing, hair style and anything else their watchful eyes found worthy of derision." She was at the crux of the developing problem. She wanted to exercise her inalienable American right to the pursuit of happiness and yet she didn't want to be socially seen as something to be laughed at. It was a delicate balance, but right now if she was forced to choose one or the other she'd pick the simplicity of good old American freedom over a steadily creeping, invasive and insincere social order, realizing that it was much easier said than done.

Mary Jane said; "I'm rooting for you two, little girl. They can make it hard." The old hippy blinked her eyes a few times staring at Polly and got back into her vintage red, faded and rusted Volkswagen. She rolled up her gravel driveway and noticed the pine "White Rabbit" lawn ornament to her left was on his back again. She had righted him countless prior times and he was showing severe signs of wear from lying on the barren dirt. His erect standing posture was apparently a sin in the eyes of the brown, coarse haired, living rabbit which resided in the vicinity. She hesitated, considering the constant futility. She looked back at Polly and Prince, then thought; "One more time." She stopped the car, got out, zipped her jacket and put him back as he truly belonged.

Polly mumbled; "Bye, Mary Jane and thanks," discernible only to Prince. His new friend now departed, Prince was ready to look for more and pulled an initially reflective and spacy Polly down the road, bringing her back to the reality of the moment. She had to move quickly or jerk Prince's mud covered head.

No surprise to Polly, but a huge revelation to Prince was a paved crossing road, which he couldn't see from the fork. He enthusiastically thought; "There is some diversity to this straight road!" and he pranced right into it, Polly right behind and careful not to run into the corner cholla cactus grove. He walked the center of the two way street eyeing the new houses.

This section was built only a year prior, around the time of Prince's birth and now half were occupied and half empty with "For Sale" signs in front. The street was empty though some newcomers surreptitiously peered from their windows in hopes that Prince would not squat on their property.

The builder made his work as simple as possible by clearing off everything that had grown on the land, which was once said to be an irrigated apple orchard and no one seemed to know for sure and only the rare trouble maker would say that it was subsequently used as an illegal medical waste dump. The norm in Corrales is that it is extremely tacky to say anything negative about the local real estate, as it is the single largest source of income in town. So, whether or not this development was the site of criminal doings was of no interest to the long term residents for both economic and social reasons and no interest to the current residents of the new area as it would decimate the value of their largest investment. The only people who had a real interest in knowing the truth had no way of finding it; the potential new buyers and the kids growing up in the area drinking well water; two non-voting groups who make no political contributions and consequently really don't matter to the proper, socially and economically conscious townspeople. If such a matter were ever brought up in polite company it would be dismissed as speculative here say, jealousy or sheer stupidity which may well be the case. Most often the one to say such a ridiculous thing would be silently stared at before the others found some reason to excuse themselves, re-enforcing the local happy talk requirement.

The twenty house subdivision was originally marketed as "custom" homes, though all the untrained naked eye could make of the claimed customization were the different colors of the stucco and two different entranceways; ten wide and deep; ten narrow and long. Initial landscaping efforts were in evidence with five foot sticks striving to become trees and small mounds of organic scrubs striving to become bushes. The two story houses were huge and appeared even bigger on the cleared land; perhaps the builder's central point. Wooden stockade fencing, already showing signs of rot, broken boards and loose footings standardly marked three-quarters of the borders, surprising, in that if the builder was truthful (a stupid expectation) the material was new a year ago while its current appearance was more akin to something near ready to be too decrepit for a first rate, large city museum. The fronts differed where various types of gates were closed near the centers of wire "horse" fencing, providing near perfect visibility of what the owners wanted to be seen. If any horses had actually ever been there they had already escaped, providing an undisturbed full frontal view of the titanic, high status, valuable houses.

Prince thought that there was something weird about the area that he couldn't quite put his paw on and he now smelled something unpleasant. He sniffed the air as he moved, turning his head from side to side as he couldn't focus on the stink. It seemed to come from all directions, a new experience for him as up until now his olfactory senses had been able to pinpoint the source of odors which he would then proceed to investigate. "Ah," he thought; "Only a year old and I already have to find a way to deal with the multiplicity of the new. I didn't expect this until I was at least seven."

He had a somewhat untraditional take on the gigantic Southwestern houses. An irreconcilable incongruity existed in their "newness" which concurrently copied the oldest style in America. They seemed as if they wanted to appear comfortably numb in their stoic unmarred facade when in his opinion they looked both lonely and completely exposed at the same time. Considering his artistic and pop-psychological musings possibly mere privileged sophistry, which had no momentary purpose, he re-focused on his primary concern and thought; "Where is the cause of that stink?" He stopped and looked at Polly. He thought that after having sniffed the air curiously and then looking to her she would understand his question and try to answer it.

He was correct in thinking that Polly would understand his question, which was a no-brainer, but he was wrong in assuming that having understood it she would be able to answer. Polly wasn't sure which stink he was referring to as she was able to discern four possible sources; the almost pleasant smell of cut wood still permeating from every open garage door, the light scent of singed plastic which seemed to have taken residence everywhere; the mixed general stench of sealants, glues, bug sprays and God knows what else emanating from the overflowing dumpsters sitting near each un-occupied house and likely to remain there until the builder sold the property and paid the local hauler; or the fantastically strong aroma of wildflowers growing on all boundaries of the development starting at the point where the bulldozing ended. But she unknowingly omitted at least one more possibility; cooking scents in every occupied house's kitchen. Since she was unable to detect its ethereal presence it never became one of her considerations and she was unaware that Prince's super snout could easily tell what people were heating up. Her nasal congestion didn't matter to him as he had detected similar bouquets all over Camino De Lucia. He was very accustomed to the pleasant perfume and considered it a delightful, disorderly, voluptuous, syndromatic, condition temporarily out of their reach when outdoors, only easily attainable at home. Following her own interest and hoping it was shared she decided to bring him to the wildflowers.

She nodded "Yes" to him and confidently led him to an area of five one acre lots the builder could not financially handle and convert at the back of the development, thick with apple and elm trees. And wildflowers!!! They were primarily early blooming Blackfoot Daisies displaying inch long white rayed flowers with a yellow center and a rounded mound. Initially reluctant to follow as Polly seemed to be leading him away from the houses he thought the most likely cause of the stink, he was glad he trusted her when they got to the daisies. They weren't the source of the foulness he had detected, but he liked them so much he forgot the past. He followed his own interest strongly suspecting it was also hers and happily sniffed, ate and rolled in the present; a thick, natural flower garden. Polly sat and watched him play, supporting herself with her left hand on a mature elm as a warm southerly breeze confirmed the existence of spring.

They lost track of time until the natural sundial's long shadows told her it was getting ready to go off duty. They were somewhere between a half and a full mile from home, depending on route. Polly was not interested in being out on the un-illuminated streets after dark, especially those which stank. How could she be sure that a green slime vampire wouldn't emerge from a dumpster? She tugged Prince and said; "Come on. Time to go."

Prince felt as if he had just gotten there and he was certainly not through yet. He merely ignored her tug.

Polly was disappointed at his reaction as she thought that even a dog was capable of telling when the night was near.

He could tell, but it made no difference to him.

Polly tugged harder and loudly said; "Come on already."

Prince growled, but the drumbeat was as mild as that on a Connie Francis record and the red vision was more like an apple which sat in a kitchen table basket for two weeks.

Undeterred by the tiny roar she again tugged, this time pleadingly saying; "Prince, we have to go home."

Prince recognized the tone and had he the ability to speak would have said; "You know, it takes longer when you rush me. It's not that I'm purposely being un-cooperative, but that's the way it works." Being tongue-tied he just made a sound something like; "Ggrrmmggrrmmggrrmm."

Polly relaxed and said; "Okay, but when the green slime vampire comes out you have to bite it."

Prince detected her compliant relaxation and knew that she had said something to do with biting. So, he too re-relaxed breathing in the plentiful flowers. Soon he got up and ran home the long way, pulling a happy Polly, who almost kept up and only reluctantly held him back of necessity. Showing what was to become a pattern, Prince wanted to go back home on a different route than he had come out of it and went through the woods, down a lightly trafficked Corrales Road and made a left onto the straight part of Camino De Lucia.

Onlookers, some walking the street laughed at the sight, some genuinely amused to see Polly's arms outstretched, dirty blonde hair pulled back as if in a gale, wearing mud spotted high waters and a sweatshirt that revealed her belly as she ran, asking a tongue unruly Prince to go; "Slow, slow," which he only obeyed when his collar abruptly tightened, again resuming full speed when Polly caught up. People called out various things to them which the duo could not make out and Polly would just say an out-of-breath "Hello, hello" to them, not wanting to be branded as anti-social when it might be avoided with minimal effort. She knew that not saying hello was more than a venial sin in Corrales, slightly below hitting someone with a stick. Most of the people were saying something to the tune of; "Hey, watch it," or "Stop," but that didn't matter as the rapid traveler's main concern was that the obstacles didn't make an irrational move. Prince and Polly would anticipate their logical movements and quickly adjust their path to avoid a collision. Not even being aware of the possible brands Prince could care less about the likely perceptions and was most concerned with dodging people and negotiating turns, the latter accomplished with a calculated slide which gave the impression of being random.

They made it down the driveway, through the garage, through the triangular room and into the sunset back yard. Polly removed the chain and sat, seemingly unable to take one more step now that no more were necessary. Prince also sat, leaning against her leg. After she got some of her breath back she said; "If we do this every day I'm going to go out for the next Olympic trials as a miler."

Prince knew she was saying something about having had extended herself to the limit. He licked her face and thought; "I really wish I could tell you this, as you did just great. I didn't expect to make the whole trip non-stop and was willing to break if you insisted on a stop. It's amazing what people and dogs can do if given a little push." He smiled at her recalling his own not so distant days of being given strong incentives to fight, thinking that now there was something better to not fight for.

Her recovery process took less than a Pop Singles radio station song. She showed him her index finger, indicating that she would be back shortly and went inside.
Chapter 11

As Polly neared un-noticed, Mom was washing off her dinner plate in the kitchen sink and Dad was sitting at the table talking animatedly; "It should be so easy to convince the board of that stupid bank that transactional banking is an inefficient relic of the past and that relationship banking will be the more profitable wave of the future."

Mom was silently nodding her head with her back to Polly and Dad, probably because she had heard this more than once before. He continued; "And with interest rates at historic lows now is the time to make the investment in the software ......"

Polly was still exhilarated and felt a bit silly. She laughed a bit and said; "You mean, like, you're supposed to love your bank or something?" She covered her mouth with her hand to half hide her amusement and saw her mother's belly contort as if she were getting ready to puke.

Dad put his head on the kitchen table and covered it with one hand as he was taught to do in grammar school nuclear safety exercises. After a few seconds he looked up at Polly and smiled, saying; "Some codger on the board basically said the identical thing to me, using other words he learned when a BS in Finance was a big deal. You have unlimited potential, little girl."

Polly corrected him and said; "Woman."

Mom's stomach exploded and a noise came out of her mouth that resembled; "Fffttumum."

Dad gave Polly a little sideways glance and said; "You said it was okay to be my little girl."

With a perfectly straight and perhaps indignant face Polly said; "I thought you understood that that's when we're alone. In company please refer to me as woman. Female's okay. No girl, lady or stuff like that and little girl is totally out of the question."

As Mom turned to observe her precocious or excessively politically correct or comedic daughter, maybe all three simultaneously, Dad looked at Polly blankly, his mind a mixture of amusement, surprise, un-sureness and the realization that he was taking the same posture when he wanted to hide his pro-feminist attitude in public, in his case devoid of the possibility of humor. He turned to Mom for help and when he interpreted her silent look was one of pride he saw that the next move was his. He didn't know what to say, but opened his mouth hoping that the right words would come, forgetting that that was as likely to happen as the Bush administration finding Bin-Laden. He'd even have settled for superfluous words thinking that he could always make the appropriate clarifications later depending on what retort or retorts he received.

Polly performed the miracle he needed when she smiled and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and gently squeezing. She said; "You're so serious about this." She held on a bit, saw him beaming, then broke away and added; "But how can you be serious about people loving their bank?" She put two fingers down her throat, but stopped short of gagging or spitting up.

Dad smiled faintly, nodded his head slowly and then in an overly low baritone sang; "To dream the impossible dream." He returned to what passes for normality and asked Polly; "Has Prince been behaving himself?"

Polly's silence and eyes on the ceiling indicated; "Stupid question."

Dad said; "You know, ummmmmm ....... He hasn't attacked anyone yet, right?"

Polly looked at the tiled floor and thought; "He's kind of attacked me once, but that was a tiny accident not worthy of an out and out 'attack' classification and I don't want to say that because it will create the wrong impression. He's also warned a few people and dogs, in no uncertain terms that that would be the next step if they continued their 'aggression.' Very American and acceptable. Anyway, I probably could have held him back had things gone that route. But, I don't want to say that either as it might take a lot of explaining and nothing good could come of it." So after fifteen seconds of floor observation she said; "No," sounding a bit like Barney Fife, when nervous on The Andy Griffith Show.

Mom and Dad stared at her with wrinkled brows and Polly again said; "No," this time with the confidence of a marginally talented, beautiful starlet known for television commercials.

Mom closed one eye and followed up with; "He hasn't drawn blood, has he?"

Polly wished there was a question that she could simply answer a simple "No." She exhaled and this time looked at the tongue-in-groove ceiling boards, thinking; "He hasn't drawn anyone else's blood, but he got a little of mine. The way this third degree has been going they know something is up. Maybe I should settle for this one." She blurted out as if she were annoyed and she was; "He accidentally got my finger once." She showed them the band aid and added; "Big deal."

Mom said; "Are you sure that's all he got?"

Polly was relieved, thinking; "Finally, an easy question," and raised her voice to announce a resounding; "Yes!" She then realized that she had responded to the last question in the context of the "attack" scenario and not the seven words on their own. She considered asking her mother to rephrase the question, but decided to let things stand as they did when she saw that her parents were through with their examination and appeared momentarily contented. She saw that the truth was not as simple a concept as most would have you believe. They say; "Just simply tell the truth." Sure. She sarcastically asked; "Is it okay if I go change these clothes now?"

Mom said; "Sure. How did they get so muddy?"

Already near the stairs, without thinking Polly called back; "Prince pulled me through the mud."

Startled, Dad stood up and said; "He pulled you through the mud?"

Polly ran up the stairs and pretended not to hear.

Prince was entertaining his own thoughts of truth as he sat on his haunches in the quiet back yard. "She's been in there a while. Where is my food?" He got up and chased a late coming early bird.

Polly removed her old clothes and evaluated her flesh mud spots in the bathroom mirror, thinking that they created their own interesting form of non-everyday decoration. Left to her own volition she might have kept them or at least the most desirable examples, but she already knew that in so doing she would also be inviting questions and comments she'd rather not deal with, so she sighed and washed most of them off, keeping a few that would be covered by clothing. She wondered if everything came as a package deal and concluded that freedom was clandestine.

She returned to the kitchen where her parents or maybe it would be more correct to say Dad again reverted to discussing the merits of relationship banking in all of its ramifications. She was unaware that while she was upstairs they decided that they wouldn't worry about Prince's behavior unless they themselves saw something objectionable or if the neighbors made a formal complaint, knowing that if there were anything anywhere near worth saying that they would not be shy about registering their opinions and observations, probably armed with cell phone photos.

As she put dog food in a bowl she heard her father say; "Nobody will unequivocally say that they are for it during the board meetings. When I speak to them privately I get some assurances of support, dependent on my ability to document hard facts demonstrating the financial merit. I think I've done this though admittedly when dealing with future projections one can always make a case for speculation in the numbers, which they just happen to notice at the meetings."

Mom said; "At one job I did a project that was thorough as thorough can be, but it strongly suggested a conclusion and one guy who would be responsible for implementing the changes kept asking stupid questions, making me go back after more information and more information and more information. It got to the point of ridiculous, so I started to argue that the added information was irrelevant, always a bad argument, but I had had it. You know what he said to me; 'I fully agree with you, but don't you think it possible that there might be someone somewhere who might be interested in knowing more?' I told him that when you phrase a question like that the answer is always a no-brain yes and nothing ever gets done. Of course he didn't like that and maybe that's why I now work for a dentist and he's still a Senior Vice President. When we were on good terms, as much as one can be with a parasite, I asked him to what did he attribute his ability to outlast all the other SVP's and without any hesitation or chuckle he told me that he knew when to duck. You should keep that in mind as we'd have to live in a trailer on two dental assistant salaries."

Dad shook his head, half grinning and half despondent. He said; "One guy, a board member, told me that I could count on his support at the board meeting. Things weren't going our way and when he was asked his opinion he got flustered, hesitated and then said that he felt very strongly both ways. Very strongly both ways. Very strongly both ways? I didn't know you could do that with anything other than sexual proclivities and even then there is often a preference."

Mom motioned with her head toward Polly, who was dawdling at the sink.

Dad looked at his daughter's half turned back and said; "Polly, are you having some sort of problem over there?"

Polly was listening intently, thinking that in the future she would try to eavesdrop on more of her parent's conversations as it seemed to her that the most interesting, but not yet fully understandable stuff came out when they didn't know she was around. So as to seem disinterested in the spy business she turned, affecting a yawn as if she had just woken up and said; "This takes time. It's not like you push a button and the dish fills."

Mom and Dad ceased their talk and shrugged.

Polly finished filling the dish and put the can in the garbage.

As she started to walk away she said; "Dad, just tell me one thing. What is relationship banking?"

Dad was perplexed. In all the time he had spent trying to promote it he had never before been asked to define the term. At the bank people had spoken of it by using the language of mathematics. He said; "That's a great question. It's something that doesn't yet exist. I really don't have an easy answer. I could say a number of different things about it, but they would all be misleading or incomplete."

He paused and Polly stood still and made a disgruntled face.

Dad said; "Okay, try this. It's like when you give somebody something now so that you both will benefit in the future."

Polly tried to visualize something real that fit the description and she thought of her family and Prince, but didn't have any idea about how to apply that to a bank. So she took a different line of thought and said; "Mercy at school told me that her parents were into something called Eastern Zen and that all there is is now."

Dad quickly replied; "That's why in the East they still ride around on yaks. Now, would you please get out of here and feed that dog before he eats somebody."

Polly left making a mental note to ask Mercy if her parents had yaks in the driveway.

Mom stood up, undid a few buttons of her work uniform and said; "Speaking of which ......," as she sauntered to the stairs, Dad in close pursuit. As he elevated he admired the lofty view and said; "Wholly art. Wholly future. Let me live with exploration in the greatest light." Mom looked down quizzically and wondered if she should re-consider her position.

Prince was tired of waiting to be fed and decided to take matters in his own paws. He sniffed around the yard and found some fur, detecting the recent presence of a tasty rabbit, hoping it was still around.

Life became as settled as life ever is for an entire month. Prince and Polly didn't run into anything unexpected. There were new acquaintances and faces, but they all were a repeat of the people they met on their first few days out; some supportive of their public performances, some non-supportive, at times overtly so, and some with no opinion, for some technical reason. Polly thought that the no-opinions were very likely to be non-supportives who wanted to appear to be the more fashionable supportives. She dwelled on the point that if she was correct in her assessment of the no-opinions that the majority viewpoint was that she was doing something wrong. She never was one to hope for a school nomination to any "Miss Popularity" or "Most Liked" contest. In fact, she would have been insulted if anyone proposed her for "Most Liked," and possibly punch them, but, still the whole thing bothered her and the degree was still increasing.

Prince thought simply. He knew he needed to bone up more if he were to debate his thoughts with the current mavens, however he knew that even if were invited to a "serious discussion" he couldn't speak or understand the human language and they couldn't speak or understand the dog method of conveying meaning, so he didn't classify or compare their acquaintances beyond whether they liked him or not. If you liked him, great, he'd try to return the favor adding icing to the cake. If you didn't like him, fine too, but in this case please don't push. His only problem was that sometimes he'd run over to greet a human he already knew didn't like him and be rebuffed. Thus far it was an unavoidable mistake because they all looked alike. Sure, some had different hair colors, but his natural level of gaze was below their head and they all wear pants. When he felt like working he would have to come up with some method of differentiation. In the meantime he spent his copious spare hours chasing everything that moved out of his back yard. The birds, road runners, rabbits, squirrels and weasels were put on notice that they were no longer welcomed. Prince tried to remove the insects too, but gave up after he saw that by the time he had chased out one or two, dozens more had taken their place. He could sense that Polly was more brittle and tight in the way she held him. Because of that he didn't attempt to lead her to the Bosque, suspecting that she was having some difficulty in handling something she already knew, consequently new things would best be postponed. The real wildness offered by the small strip of land bordering the river could wait for the appropriate time; when he feels the chain relax. Or so he thought. He never considered the possibility that Camino De Lucia "civilization" might be the cause of her condition and the best remedy might be to take her away from it and escape to the crazy, unknown, natural wild.

Dad tread water on his big thing; relationship banking. Board members continued to not give him any support at their regular meetings and privately several paid lip service to some vague degree of support while insisting on more information. Irrationally and with caution thrown to the wind he avoided Mr. I-Feel-Strongly-Both-Ways as a matter of personal distaste. One evening, as he made another presentation to the board of "facts" he considered irrelevant, he was tired and dis-interested and his mind wandered to Polly, resulting in him referring to his platform as the "Love your bank" program. Initially embarrassed, he soon saw the tight-lipped but broadening smiles showed that the board thought his faux pas an obviously purposeful one and a few members subsequently told him that they were happy and surprised to see that he did, indeed have a previously un-noticed sense of humor. He took that under advisement, but concluded that there was a tiny plus and made plans to talk to Polly more often.

Mom kept forcing huge smiles at the dental patients and like her daughter developed a new mental condition. When she was little she had made grotesque faces at her mother and her dispassionate "mummy" would merely advise her that her face could stay that way, so now she became fearful that her façade would freeze in the "Joker" position. She'd gaze around the office and when no one was looking she would make ugly, distorted frowns and use both hands in an attempt to pull her cheeks back down. She continued her "religious" ritual of saying five "Our Father's" and five "Hail Mary's" rationalizing the lost time by combining her prayers with her morning office coffee while she absently stared into "Cosmopolitan" magazine, many of which rested on a discount store metal rack attached to a door for the benefit of patience and patients. She would simultaneously beg God; "Please, please, please, pleeeeease, don't let any of the old men proudly show me their new dental work." When they did she felt obliged to don the smiling mask with the widest stretch and consequently she inhaled tooth decay stink mixed with antiseptic. She thought it was customary and business-like to tell the fossil how great he now looked as he crouched in front of her with both hands in his mouth saying what sounded like a mentally challenged version of; "Look, look." On more than one occasion she was rewarded for her heroics with an ass-grab. She didn't have high hopes for divine intervention as somewhere in her past she had heard that it was necessary to go to his house to make one's pleas. Or, was that Marlon Brando? No matter, she didn't have his address, e-mail or otherwise, either. Her husband was making her nervous because of his arguable zealotry in an environment more conducive to smile masks imitating the antiquated hard logic (insofar as it had previously been gleaned) of business.

THEN PREDICTABLE, BUT NONETHELESS WELCOMED MAGIC CAME TO TINY CORRALES.

Chapter 12

It was May 18, the last day of school and appropriately, also "Endangered Species Day." Bursting from the school door at 3:30 was a collage of tiny people jostling each other to be the earliest one to greet the radiance of the unseasonably hot day. Bells ringing, imaginary and real, confused the Revolution with the storming of the bastille. Sun saturated songs and screams echoed from countless mouths and directions; "No more teachers, no more books." If the modern school system splurged for precipice gargoyles they would be cackling and trying to get into the action. If there were any onlookers they would have thought that they witnessed chaotic infinity forcing a re-consideration of church affiliations, but all there was were participants, whose only church was right in front of their faces; moving pictures shot at the highest speed and they were the stars.

Classmates hugged vowing to keep in contact and telling each other how great they were, like an Academy Award show. All they had to do was remember the names. Parental chauffeuring service cars were parked out of sight around the corner at the side of the school. Drivers heard the explosion, made wide concerned eyes at each other and thought that they must be missing something. They were. As a huddled group they moved forward, or backward depending on point of view and their late day shadows cast a pallor on the celebration.

The kids' howls diminished gradually, but steadily as one celebrant after another spotted the descending chauffer brigade. As they grudgingly recognized them, the celebrants quieted when they saw their rides waiting with taciturn expressions like after a dismal movie's opening night. They said hurried final goodbyes, diligently walked to their waiting limo and entered, most choosing a front seat.

Suddenly it was silent and Polly stood there alone, feeling creepier than usual as a result of the short loud party's abrupt end. For the first time she noticed the torn notepad pages being blown in the gentle breeze like post parade confetti. She saw the penciled notes taken of state populations, governors, natural resources and per capita incomes alongside doodling, circuitous artwork in the margins and at page tops and bottoms. It occurred to her that all this stuff was of such significance just yesterday and now it would go wherever the wind told it to, excepting the page remnant stuck in the impromptu vomit left by one overly excited kid.

With only the sound of the wind in her ears for distraction she walked through the bright green grass, which was now ripe for a lawnmower, to get a zoom in. The torn page furiously lifted its edges in the gusts revealing little of the reversed side, though Polly could see enough of the obverse to surmise that part was a blue ink, graffiti-like depiction of eggs in a jam-packed bird's nest, safely up in a leafy tree. She didn't want to touch the regurgitation and consequently wondered if the part she was blind to depicted predators or Mama Bird, or both. The obverse was abundantly and mind-numbingly clear, except the center where the spewing had soaked through and produced a blurring wet stain. On that spot the Gumby-like simple stick figure held its hands out to the side as if it were saying; "I don't know" and on the ground near its feet was a fat bird, possibly an owl, under which were the words; "Be on my side. I'll be on your side." Polly lost track of time looking at the imperfect drawings and the mystery of the reverse side seemed to call her. She was compelled to see the whole story, or what was left of it. She scrunched her face as she put her left hand in the wetness and lifted the paper. She saw a mother bird flying back to the nest carrying twenty luscious worms. The drawings she delicately held were blown out of her hand by a strong blast and carried off the school grounds as high in the sky as an early kite takeoff, continually elevating to parts unknown, until it was out of sight. She speculated that the drawings were probably done on a day when the teacher's preaching didn't warrant any special note. She recalled having had that feeling herself often enough, but she never felt secure in drawing anything while having a front row seat in Ms. Dermer's stink and pontification show. She vowed that next year she would do everything she knew to get a private rear seat and draw her masterpiece.

Eyes on the clear blue sky, she took a few steps to the east, where she had last seen the paper and got the sweet bejesus scared out of her when she bumped into something large. She put her right hand to her chest as she saw the motionless boy, breathed out a pound of air through her nostrils and breathlessly said; "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

The boy was about her size and she recognized him to have been also in the fifth grade, but in the other class. He pursed his lips, pretended to have to straighten his "Eagles" T-shirt and brushed back his brown, shoulder length hair. He said; "I never sneak up on anybody. I'm standing here waiting for my regular ride and you jumped all over me. What's wrong with you anyway?"

Polly thought that she detected a playful nature in the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth and had to admit to herself that it was probably her who did bump into him. So, intending humor she decided to answer his question seriously and said; "I don't know. I saw a picture and it kind of spaced me out."

"What kind of drugs do you do?"

Indignant, Polly replied; "None! What kind are you on?"

He murmured; "None." He looked at Polly, who looked away to the street, pretending to be looking for her ride and hoping it wasn't there. He felt that the next entrée had to come from him and added; "I think my older brother is, though. He gets some kind of pharmaceuticals that are prescribed for my folks."

"Don't they know?"

He laughed and said; "I don't think so. They're too stoned to keep track."

Polly started to laugh, but quickly concluded that this might be a tragedy rather than a comedy. It was hard to tell. She attempted to sort of change the subject and said; "My folks drink a lot of wine."

"Are they alcoholic?"

She again felt indignant and said a resounding; "Of course not!" She thought; "Alcoholics are unemployed bums who live with their parents and never wash."

He paused a bit, extended his right hand and said; "Sorry, I was trying to be funny. I'm Leonid Morfuss; Leo."

She shook, slightly nodded and answered; "I'm Polly Thatcher." She looked into his lightly freckled face and thought that she again saw the hint of a smile. Before he could say anything she added; "I know, Polly want a cracker. Ha. Ha. Every idiot says that and I always pretend to be amused."

Leo indignantly said; "I wasn't going to say that at all," though he was considering it.

"Don't lie. I know you were. Your name is pretty stupid too."

Leo stuck his tongue way out and tried to imitate someone mentally challenged. He was successful. He said; "I know genius; I'm in the 'stupid' class and proud of it."

Polly knew he was referring to the school's method of planning classes. She had been in the "regular" fifth grade class this year and Leo had been in the "scholastically unique" one. She had always laughed at the administrators' attempt at to be proper and wondered how many hours they spent on the "correct" caption, when all the kids used the words "smart" and "stupid." She said; "Well, I didn't impress anyone this term, so next year I'm going to the "stupid" class.

Leo's eyes lit up and he said; "You got Gebus?"

"Yeah."

"That's great. Me too. My friend told me that he's always drunk and sometimes passes out on the desk."

Polly laughed.

Leo excitedly added; "Yeah. When he passes out all the kids throw spitballs at him and last year one got stuck right on his eyelid. When he woke up that eye was fluttering like a swallow on the way to detox Capistrano."

Polly started to laugh again, but caught herself before she really let go, thinking that the situation was also sad. She sternly looked at Leo and said; "I'm not going to be one of the spitball pitchers."

Leo scowled and looked to his left, saying; "No sense of humor."

"I do too have a sense of humor."

"Well, tell me something funny then."

Polly drew a blank.

Leo said; "See."

Polly felt challenged and beaten. She was compelled to come up with something. She started to do a little dance, moving right to left and back again, shifting her weight from side to side. She saw Leo grin, so she touched his nose and said; "Alphonse." She backed away, saw his broader smile, put an arm across her belly, bowed and said; "Gaston."

Leo's amusement was obvious as his face seemed to beam, though he didn't laugh out loud. In a cheery and curious voice he said; "What's that?"

Polly stopped moving and deadpanned; "I don't know. My dog likes it."

Leo wasn't sure if he was insulted or not. He eyed Polly questioningly and behind her saw his brother's car pull into the school driveway. His head moved from his brother's car to Polly a few times. The horn blasted. Leo touched Polly's hand and said; "Where do you live?"

"Corrales."

Agitated, he said; "Yeah, even I know that. Where?"

Polly hesitated a second before saying; "Camino De Lucia."

Leo's eyes popped and he replied; "Great, me too. Which house?"

The horn bellowed and the bearded, long greasy-haired male driver yelled out; "Come on. I've got stuff to do."

Leo held up his hand, but took a step toward the fugitive from Rent-A-Wreck and Polly said; "The one with the cracked bell on top."

Leo went to the impatient junker, saying; "Great, I know it. See 'ya."

Polly audibly mumbled; "See 'ya," and watched the car drive away, wondering if she had just made her first date.

Leo turned in his seat and watched the stationary little girl alone in front of the enormous school watching the car, until a bend in the road put it out of his view.

He kept thinking of that last image while his brother babbled nervous chatter at him which required no response and while he couldn't fathom what, it seemed that something was amiss, remiss or beyond definition.

Polly kept gazing in the direction the car had gone and for once hadn't a thought in her head. She was taken from her dreamless sleep by the sound of a car honking. She had not heard the gravel being displaced by its approach and turned as if shot to see her mother sitting in the black Saab looking at her curiously. Polly said nothing and slowly walked over and got in the passenger's seat. After exiting the driveway in silence Mom broke the ice by saying; "I thought that you'd be thrilled to have school over with."

Polly shrugged as if it didn't matter, but said a weak; "Yeah, I guess," her mind not on the subject. She peered out the side window not knowing what she was looking for. She saw a bank branch, but found its single story, square shape un-lovable, despite the three twenty foot saplings "decorating" the parking lot. The red, white and blue draped, wooly plastic banner hung over the huge glass automatically opening front door was grotesque. The stenciled sign it contained, which said; "LOWEST RATE HOME EQUITY LOANS" did not help matters, even though she couldn't see the fine print below it which added "to qualified borrowers."

Mom was concerned and trying to induce a response said; "Is something bothering you?"

Polly shrugged again and kept her eyes peeled for signs of life on the main drag. She realized that her demeanor was inviting investigation, the last thing she wanted, so she attempted to deflect it with the proper response, but came up with; "No ...... Yes ...... Not really. You know, it's like I couldn't wait for school to be over, but now that it is, I feel like I'm missing something. And my stomach feels funny."

"Do you need the bathroom?"

Polly yelled; "No."

Considering the responses too vague for her liking an undeterred Mom ventured; "So, what did you do today?"

Polly felt that she was getting the third degree and quickly rattled off; "Smelled Ms. Dermer's Drano, celebrated at the bell, looked at a picture and talked to some guy. All right, already?"

Mom heard at least two things she didn't want to and quickly came back with; "What guy?"

"Oh, Mom, for God's sake, you're so precise. I shouldn't have said guy. It was some kid in the other class." She paused, then chirped; "Actually we'll be in the same class next year and he lives somewhere on Camino De Lucia."

Somewhat relieved, but still not fully satisfied, Mom asked; "Did he show you some picture?"

"Oh, no. He didn't even see it. It was torn from somebody's discarded notebook. Birds, worms, stuff like that."

Mom exhaled profusely and supposed that she might have an idea about Polly's springtime malaise. She thought; "It was inevitable but came so quickly." She asked; "What's this boys' name?"

"Leo Morfuss."

Mom didn't know any Morfuss family on Camino De Lucia, but also didn't know ninety percent of the families on Camino De Lucia. For some reason she thought the name sounded appropriate. In a childish voice, she asked; "Leo, is he a little lion?"

Polly looked right at her mother and indignantly said; "Don't talk to me like I was a little baby. I'm not a little baby." She stamped her foot on the floor mat.

Mom silently watched the road. Polly said; "I think I need a drink."

Mom furrowed her brow and said; "Me, too."

As the Saab rattled the gravel Prince ran to the fence to investigate. He watched them exit the car with his tail wagging uncontrolled. He wanted Polly to see what a good boy he had been in chasing all the uninvited varmints out of the yard. Sure, there were some bugs left, but ...... And one of them had the audacity to perch itself on his ear right now! In a super quick reaction he batted it off with a hind leg. He was proud of his accuracy, but concluded that he still needed to work on the power aspect of his game, as his ear felt like someone was roasting it.

Polly and Mom walked to the fence and petted Prince through the wire mesh just because they felt like it, while Prince thought that they had noticed the absence of winged and four legged terrorists, not realizing the difficulty in noticing something that is not bodily there. To him things were much simpler; he couldn't see the wind, but had no difficulty in seeing what it moved, hearing it in his super ears and detecting scents it carried. Even when it was so mild that it wasn't registering with his other senses he could feel its touch cool his body. Right now he wished it would find his throbbing ear. Partially compensated for a long day's work he patiently waited for the rest of the package; food and a walk.

Polly started out the day planning to celebrate the end of school with a trip into the wild of the Bosque with Prince, but now she was feeling strangely. The events of her late afternoon were nothing that she had ever previously experienced or dreamed of. She wanted to be on the safe side, so decided to take Prince for another development tour and though she tried not to admit it to herself, much less anyone else, she wouldn't mind seeing Leo again. He seemed to be both sad and funny and she found the combination intriguing and exasperating. Her mother beside her in the kitchen she announced; "I'm going to change into old clothes."

Mom said; "I see that my little girl has already acquired the powers of a witch. Why not change into a sleeping princess?"

Polly said; "You're worse than Dad. Woman."

They exchanged tongue displays and crossed eyes. Polly went to her room and donned proper, uninhibited canine ambulatory attire. She returned to the kitchen, put Prince's food into his dish and brought it to him. Prince stuck his snout right in the bowl, took one bite and looked up at Polly. It was primarily vegetables with some chicken and he thought that he deserved beef for his yeoman efforts. Had he a cell phone he would have called his union representative. Polly sternly said; "Eat it," and clasped her hands behind her head, while recalling her mother's reasoning for getting this particular blend. "Dalmatians are prone to digestive problems with a beef diet. Prince is going to substantially be a vegetarian." Prince reluctantly did as he was told, considering that he wanted to please Polly and the fact that there was no other choice on the menu. By the time he finished he came to appreciate that this meal took almost no hard work to consume, whereas one has to chew the devil out of beef.

Polly put on his leash and they ran outside, but Prince pulled up short in the middle of the driveway. Waiting at the end of it was a German Shepherd with a little boy in tow.

"Polly," called out Leo with an air of surprise that had been long anticipated.

"Leo, hi. Watch out a little. This guy can be very unpredictable." Prince was now in his semi-crouch position, slowly moving forward, eyes fixed on the Shepherd.

Leo smirked as his dog "Princess" was thirty percent larger and while not one to start fights, had handled herself well enough when attacked in the past. Princess stood her ground and made a low warning growl.

Prince got confused. He thought; "This dog is warning me, saying that she can take care of herself, but not making any move to attack. That's a contradiction." Helped by Polly's insistence he stopped twenty feet from the paradoxical threat.

Leo raised his eyebrows, sighed, shrugged and said; "Hold him good. She'll kill him."

Polly didn't want to ever see Prince demonstrate his full unbridled abilities, but was irritated by Leo's brash claim. She said; "I'm glad you feel so well about your dog, but she doesn't really want to see him unchained." She watched Leo scratch his chin, then added; "Look, Prince doesn't start fights, so why don't we just introduce them slowly."

Leo said; "Prince? Weird. This is Princess."

Polly interrupted him to say; "Double weird."

Leo continued; "Well that's not really her name. ...... I call her that now. My mom kept calling her that and it got catchy. Mom said that she was the best treated female in the house, so she was a princess. Her real name is Amelia."

The dogs were now next to each other and were doing their sniffing routine, specializing in butts, when Polly asked; "What do you mean, real name. Which one is it?"

Leo recalled something from a Classic Comic Book he had read, put on a silly face and said; "Ah, what's in a name. A rose by any other ......" He lost his train of thought, considering the possibility that he was combining two different books, but more importantly Polly's blank look suggested that she hadn't the vaguest idea of what he was talking about. "She's got a chip that says her name is Amelia, but everyone calls her Princess. It's like when a lady gets married."

"Woman."

"What?"

"Never mind. Let's walk."

Princess pulled Leo south and Prince followed her, pulling Polly. Leo said; "She pulls me all over the place, but I don't care. I like to see her explore whatever gets her interest as long as it doesn't mutilate me."

"I'm kind of the same way with Prince."

"I like that. I just hate it when I see the codgers with obedient pace-keeping dogs at their sides. Complements their pacemakers. Boring!"

Polly nodded as she passed Leo by, propelled by Prince, who now wanted to get a whiff of Princess' face.

Leo went on; "The people around here think I look stupid allowing her to be as free as possible, but I really could care less what they think and I'm not going to let it curtail our fun. Some of them think that she is an attack dog because she tries to go to them with her tail wagging. With her tail wagging! I let the jerks think that as it keeps them away from us."

While what Leo said was true he had another reason for saying what he did. He thought it likely that Polly would be subjected to the same scrutiny and wanted her to feel that it wasn't worth squat. While Polly didn't say so, it had the opposite effect. It strengthened her awareness of the unwanted commentaries and took another step in making her see that her new friend had also noticed. She thought; "While he is saying that we're in this together, in a way we are and in a way we aren't. It's a lot easier for a boy to ignore the social norms than it is for a girl. ...... Woman. ... Whatever." She side-stepped and said; "Looks like nobody's here but us."

Leo replied; "Happens to me a lot. They think I'm going to totally lose control and then she'll run over and bite everybody." He laughed and was quickly joined by Polly.

Princess thought; "Up until now I didn't like little guys much."

Prince thought; "Bigger is indeed better." As he slowed down to re-investigate possible posterior party potentialities, he thought; "Safety required first," hoping no hostile invaders were sneaking up from behind. Other thoughts were, of course, subsidiary and changed from moment to moment.

They rounded a sharp bend which was the result of their being in the un-paved right side "easement" which harbored a mature apple tree, now blooming tiny white flowers. Its wide trunk and low branches caused Prince and Princess to think that a move into the un-covered left easement was called for.

Polly asked; "Do you think they're watching right now?"

"If it's not nap time."

Polly tensed.

Leo saw that and said; "I guess you can't really blame them much. After they get sedentary they can either watch the stupid TV or us."

"Tough, it's rude."

"They don't think so; they want to be entertained."

"Then let them play cards."

Leo nodded and smiled, saying; "Not bad. But, in fact they sit in front of the screen and expect it to do everything for them. Can't make it any easier than that. Problem is they don't like anything they see."

Polly wrinkled her brow questioningly.

Leo said; "Do you watch TV?"

Polly thought a bit and answered; "Not really. I have it on sometimes, but I don't pay attention to it. It's sort of there to kill the silence."

He touched her shoulder and responded; "I'm exactly the same way and I wouldn't be surprised if everyone said the same thing."

She said; "I would actually watch it if there were some diversity. But what happens is that you get a good show once every five years, then everyone makes photocopies of it with a special effect or two, until you puke."

"Yeah. My dad tells me that this has something to do with business; like a dentist who keeps filling the proven cavity and ignores the other decay to keep you having to come back."

Polly added; "And the educational stuff played three times daily for a week." She mock lowered her voice and continued; "On the poopidy-doo coast of Sumatra scientists have been attempting to measure the rate at which tsetse flies enter reptilian nasal ducts by attaching miniature thermodorastics to transfuditional, helter-skelter backed gecko udders ......" She ran out of words and stuck her hand into her mouth to produce a gag.

Leo laughed wickedly and spit over the nearby fence. He said; "So, sure they're watching us. Maybe if we could do exactly the same thing every time out they'd get as bored with us as they are with their TV's."

"I don't think that's possible with Prince."

"Nor with Princess." Leo put his free hand over his eyes and in a voice mock reminiscent of some low-budget vampire movie said; "So, my leetle sveetie, vee vill be vatched until the sun poots us in our coffins. Vee vill be safe there until nosy Von Helsing's TV goes ka-ka-poot."

Prince and Princess thought that they were making as much sense as humans ever do and kept stressing their leashes seeking to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. They soon reached the fork, somewhat surprising Prince as he had previously approached it only from the other direction. He squinted his eyes into the declining sun and wondered if he was in the right place. It almost looked the same, but from this angle ......? Princess slowed to a near stop to see if anyone had an agenda. Prince used the opportunity to twist around and make observations from as many viewpoints as he could imagine, resulting in him now being 95 percent certain that he was in the same place he had been previously and again felt comfortable, hoping it was not a trick of the slanted light. Polly and Leo also stopped and looked to each other, neither registering any particular inclination as to direction.

All eyes and ears turned to a thud coming from Mary Jane's property. The mischievous brown rabbit had again knocked over the white rabbit lawn ornament and was racing their way. He was either blind, stupid or in desperate need of a thrill to approach dogs who like fresh meat. He veered off, heading north to the circular portion of the road. Decisions were made without the use of brain power and the chase was on. The rabbit's quick irregular leaps led two dogs who looked like they were pulling heavy sleds and two humans, hands outstretched, running erratically on the un-even dirt. Breathlessly, Polly said; "I hope they don't catch it."

"Why?"

"Gross. They'll eat it."

Leo didn't initially visualize it, but when he did he pictured the blood and decided that it would be gross. However, he said nothing, content to let Polly think that he was gross. He thought that boys were supposed to be that way, where in practicality it was irrelevant as there was no chance that the rabbit would be caught unless it dropped dead of a heart attack.

They all ran as best they could until the wily rabbit, who had played this game for years, ducked between a space in the wire fence and kept going. Prince and Princess were forced to stop at the point of entry. They frantically tried to get through; first leading with their big heads, then sticking paws through the hole as if they thought that if they could get some part of their body through the rest would easily follow. They looked up and could no longer see the rabbit, who had made it back home to his burrow on the other side of the road on the Rulestone property. The dogs' agitation slowly subsided while they sniffed the immediate vicinity, hoping to find some clue. Their mood changed to one of lethargy, not sure whether they wanted to stay and hope for some miracle, or leave with no reward.

Polly tugged at Prince's leash and said; "Come on. We better get going before someone thinks that you're going to poop on their easement and have a 'reason' to be a pest." Prince complied and the entourage proceeded.

After a few steps Leo said; "Wait a minute. Let's go back the other way. There's something I want to do."

Polly posed no questions or objections and when Prince saw Princess backtrack he followed. They got to Mary Jane's property again and Leo walked onto the unfenced portion in front of the house, ignoring the braying fenced burros and sat the white rabbit back on its wooden feet. He rejoined Polly and she asked; "What was that all about?"

Leo grimaced; disappointed that Polly would have to ask. He said; "It's a song I like. 'When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go ......... Feed you head.' I'll play it for you when you invite me over."

Polly was unfamiliar, but she thought that she was on a chessboard right now and that her head did need something. She offered interest, but no commitment, saying; "I think I'd like that very much someday."

Leo was encouraged. He softly said; "Come on. Let's go back the other way again. Maybe the dumb bunny will pop back out."

Prince and Princess looked at each other incredulously and had they words would have said; "Can't these jerks make up their minds." They made the briefest of low growls and turned back. After a few steps they heard a car rattling down the road and turned to see Leo's greasy haired brother in his Rent-A-Wreck.

Greaseball called out; "Come on, Leonid," emphasizing the name in an insulting fashion. "You're needed at home."

Leo made a disgusted face and replied; "Oh, man."

Greaseball said; "Get in the car. Your girlfriend will have to wait," embarrassing both Leo and Polly, but considering himself at the height of pharmaceutical humor and wit.

Rather than standing there and arguing, thereby likely subjecting Polly and himself to more awkwardness, Leo waved her a feeble goodbye and got Princess and himself into the dented smashup.

Polly returned his gesture and watched the car make a screeching U-turn, leaving tracks in the easement and speed back down Camino De Lucia, wondering why it was necessary to pick up Leo by car and why it went to the corner and made a left onto Corrales Road. Prince was stunned at the sudden loss and sat on his haunches, his head slowly turning from left to right and back again and back again, ......... The sun was pouring the last of today's golden glow and now devoid of human companionship, Polly's strange feeling of earlier in the afternoon returned. She slowly led a compliant Prince toward home feeling as if the eyes of Texas were upon her and hoping that the bodies attached thereto meant no harm.

Some spooky birds broke the quiet with screeches and the rustling of leaves on tender branches. Polly flinched at every sound. Prince would like to have had a chance to shut the beaks of the zooming remnants of the dinosaur age for all time, as he effortlessly detected Polly's unease. When they got 500 feet from home Polly stopped short and let out a small scream. The worst possibility came true. Barely detectable to Prince Mr. and Mrs. Rulestone stood up from behind the four foot chamisa bushes which lined the front of their property and Polly saw Mrs. Rulestone's contorted and tortured fat face, reminding her of the original "Night of the Living Dead" zombie attack. Mr. Rulestone's perennially smiling face sucked his ancient, unlit tiny cigar. It was now so dilapidated that he regularly got tobacco in his mouth, causing him to regularly spit, on occasion "accidentally" hitting Mrs. Rulestone with the discharging lips' icky brown gob. Polly saw a poison gun terrorist. Actually, Mrs. Rulestone was merely displaying her "normal" nose-wrinkled-smelling-something-foul expression and Mr. Rulestone was merely doing his customary watching, thinking about how he might get his next spit "accidentally" on Mrs. Rulestone. But in Polly's state of mind she sensed monstrous danger. Prince thought that he would either have to escort a nervous girl home or get in a fight.

Mr. Rulestone said; "'Evening," as he watched Mrs. Rulestone from the rear, planning his next attack on her spotted, tan, tent of a dress.

Polly looked right at the couple, focusing on Mrs. Rulestone's hedge clippers and mayhem disguise while remembering Freddy. She screamed, causing the resident rabbit to dive in his hole to avoid the coyotes, but having little effect on anyone else. She ran the rest of the way home with Prince at her rear struggling to keep up.

After another long week of repetition and no meaningful progress on any front, Mom and Dad sat leaning against their headboard, laptops lapped and the maximized space between un-rumpled. Dad searched the net for information on the history of American private banking and Mom looked for stories concerning George Washington's supposedly wooden teeth. Dad was unable to find anything that fit the bill, excepting the bleak possibility of one web site which purported to have the ability to answer any questions about "general" banking, "with a subscription fee of only 29.95," presumably in US dollars, "manned 24-7 by operators in Korea and India." He decided to be "entertained" and went to the Amazon book section. Mom grimaced and fussed around many sites, none of which told her what she wanted to know most. Did our first president suffer from orificial splinters? It seemed significant. In a few minutes Dad spoke; "Listen to this. 'The indirect, frigid winter sun un-imposed its radiance deficiency on a block of hot, dry ice, which comfortably rested on the cracked concrete in front of the Tenth Avenue storefront bearing a wan plastic sign with 'Women's Pharma' lettered in already ran as opposed to running cerulean calligraphy, resulting in a standoff, not of the Mexican variety.'"

Mom politely waited for the sentence to end and after a five second linger in limbo said; "What on earth is that? Some author- posted, otherwise unpublished, unsalable book?"

"No, it's the opening of a new release from a top ten guy titled and get this; 'Going Through the Motions.'"

"Are you sure you didn't get on one of those gross joke websites?"

"Amazon?"

Mom shrugged as if to say; "Who knows?"

Dad shrugged too and said; "It says it's by John Walter Downey."

"I think I've heard that name. Didn't he get famous for dissing some TV host?"

"I don't know, but they think they can get 42.95 plus shipping for it in hard cover. .............. Wait a minute. There are four different versions, each with a different number of pages at escalating prices."

"Maybe the others have a better opening."

Dad said; "I haven't the slightest, but if you get the deluxe version for only 55.95 plus shipping you can get a personalized facsimile signature."

"Of who?"

Dad smiled.

Mom got maddeningly serious and said; "I wish someone would write a story telling me something I don't already know. I think I've seen that place in New York and elsewhere plenty of times. If I had any interest in it a cell phone photographer would suffice."

"Oh, my little literarily challenged Luddite; you obviously miss the precise poetic nuance, unless thou art jesting."

"Fashionable pessimism."

"So?"

Mom perked up; "So? So, it's been fashionable since the day of the flood. It's about time for something new."

"Like?"

"Like, something holding out some chance for optimism, even if it has to be fictional."

"You want someone to play Don Quixote, while everyone knows the result will be sacrificial? Irrationally demanding, thy name is woman."

Mom laughed heartily, laptops un-lapped and the space between them rumpled and disappeared into the warm sunlit air.
Chapter 13

"Get off me. Stop!" Polly moaned with half shut eyes. When he kept nudging his snout into her leg Polly pulled back the blanket, half sat up and looked at Prince. Sure of her attention he motioned toward the closed door and Polly knew that the inevitable had chosen this moment to take place. She turned to the clock and was annoyed to see that it was only 1:15AM, but dutifully realized that if Prince had to go he had to go.

Prince said something like a high pitched "woooooo" and again looked to the door. Polly said; "All right. All right. Let me get some clothes on." She topped her Flintstone jammies with dungarees and a red velour robe. As Prince whined she opened the door and carefully followed him down the stairs to the back door where he again had to wait. Close to being unable to control himself Polly opened his last obstacle and he ran out. She flicked the switch and could see in the dim light. Prince got two feet onto the grass and let it fly.

She mumbled; "Just made it, huh," finding the whole affair a good deal more amusing than he did.

Prince glanced back at her while he continued to squat and didn't think that anything was the least bit funny. He thought; "If I was a bad dog I could have gone right in the house and then you'd have to get it. You're a lucky girl."

Polly could tell that Prince wasn't feeling humorous and was not happy with her mirth. When he was done she went over to him, kneeled, put her arms around his neck and squeezed. He thought; "All right. But this isn't funny stuff, you know." She walked back to the door, but Prince felt like showing some degree of obstinacy and went the other way. He really didn't want to be out in the dark, but made his way to the northern border lined with thick native plants and hid behind them to see what Polly would do. She remained near the house and called his name; softly at first, escalating with each echo. He heard her frustration and thought; "Ha. Ha. Ha." He peered between the branches of a half-brown Spanish Broom until he saw her begin to move in his direction, and then ran to her. She correctly guessed his rationale and laughed as they returned to bed. Prince again did not know what was so funny, but thought that it must be some irrational human thing.

The next thing that they heard was the insistent clanging of the Art Nouveau clock. It was 7AM and a faint light was visible in the eastern window. Unlike recent history Polly planned to make her first trip with Prince into the wild Bosque and was anxious to get out of bed and bounded to the ground, stifling the messenger. Prince yawned, looking at her as if she was some sort of nut and remained in place.

With the slightest of coaxing Prince was soon fed and in the back yard, expecting another diligent day of rabbit, squirrel and bird chasing. Rather than the revving of engines he was surprised that the next thing he heard was the back door slamming. He re-directed his focus from the stubborn robin who refused to vacate his yard, remaining boldly at the top of an elm at the northern border, to the door. He ran over to see Polly, who had his long leash in hand.

Though she thought it more likely to run into Leo in the development, the constant surveillance there made her want to break away. She hooked up Prince and they were off, Polly watching the dog's behind. The concentration necessary to not fall on her head made her forget that she hoped Leo was at the end of her driveway. Prince made the ideal turn, right into the rising sun and they passed the Rulestones who were still playing with their chamisas. They didn't appear as ominous as they seemed last night, perhaps because they had their backs to the light, shadowing the faces that could have stopped even an Art Nouveau clock. "Hi." "Hi." "'Morning." "'Morning," and some other indistinguishable sounds of cheer rang out inviting appropriate responses, but Polly was happy to follow Prince's quick lead to points beyond. As he approached the right-of-way leading to the Bosque Polly slowed him down fearing he would bolt by the turn.

Prince looked back at her, somewhat bewildered, but after she used her hand grip on the leash to direct him to the trampled grass he was previously denied, he went where she wanted and smelled the delectable blossoming florae touched by the river. The split grass path was easy to traverse and they quickly passed from being surrounded by houses to deceptively seeming isolation and saw the thick array of cottonwoods, showing new green which obliterated the remnants of last year's wrinkled brown. A ditch containing dirty water stopped them. Prince had seen the sight previously and knew it was good for a drink and swim. He recalled that Marian expressed reticence in joining him for the fun, so he slowly descended to gauge Polly's desire. She did the same as Marian, allowing him entrance but staying at the top. He thought; "Aw, come on. It's great down here." Polly smiled, but shook her head "no." He laboriously climbed back out and instinctively went to the crossing bridge and easily around an ineffectually closed gate. He saw a straight body of water people called the "clear ditch," because that's exactly what it was. Prince was perplexed. It looked the same as what he had just seen. "Why the duplication? Is it so special that it necessitated a gate, no matter how effortlessly passed?" He soon got a close-up view of the three foot running channel which fed off the Rio Grande River, never went dry and had loads of visible fish. Prince went down the gently sloped bank and Polly followed him to the edge. He tried to impale a fish in his mouth. Unsuccessful at that he saw the unencumbered reflection of himself and Polly grinning above him. He paused and looked at the rippling mirror images. He pawed at the ghosts, temporarily obliterating them and then watching as they came back. He tried five times, but the stubborn shadows of life always returned. He looked back to her and she shrugged as if to say that this was the way that it was and so what. She said; "If you want to get a fish just be patient. They're stupid." Prince didn't understand, but thought that they were tricky, evasive and not worth the effort.

He exited and crossed a land bridge which parted the clear ditch. They went up the levee and stopped at the crest to take in the panoramic view of the river, trees, bushes and natural groundcovers. After savoring the delight a few seconds they were compelled to gain the experience, rather than a stagnant view and they both thought; "Wild, let's get in it." They descended the gradually sloped levee, Prince excited and moving near top speed. He didn't know that his four feet allowed him the luxury of swiftness and that Polly's two necessitated her going slower than she did on flat land. She had to hold him back, saying; "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Prince was surprised, exasperated and his neck hurt. He looked back at her with a twinge of fire in his eyes and thought; "You wanted this as much as I did. What's the problem now?"

Polly took his meaning with ease, but didn't know how to explain physical differences to him. She knelt on one knee by him, put her arms tightly around his sore neck and squeezed. Prince knew that his injury was not deliberate and besides, the recovery was well on its way. He slowed a bit as he went down the gently sloping dirt path and Polly extended herself both because this terrain was easier for her and so as not to send him any more confusing messages. They negotiated sun and shadow as they passed through the un-landscaped land, at least not landscaped by anything calling themselves human. Prince went right to river's edge and stopped. They took in the long view of the moving still life; the cottonwoods on the other side, the vegetated islands in the river, the birds on the water and in the air, the rocky mountain in the distance and the amazingly brown river itself. Polly daydreamed a while, but was startled back to reality with a jerk. Prince jumped in! She was pulled to the muddy edge and couldn't stop her slide. She fell down, but her first priority was to hold onto the leash as Prince struggled in rushing water that was over his head. She slowly was immersed to her thighs. It was as if she was watching the process in slow motion wondering if it had an end before she, too was totally engulfed in the coffee colored sea. She found sunken luck. A water soaked log provided her with some footing and the slide ended. She was able to crawl back to shore with a few slip backs and hands and legs covered with mud. Wide eyed Prince did his best to swim with the aid of Polly's adept pulling in of his leash and both were again on shore. He looked silly covered with mud, his fur sticking up either as a result of it or his shock. Polly exhaled deeply considering herself fortunate to have chanced on the hidden log. Prince exhaled deeply considering himself fortunate to have been with Polly.

She looked at him and said; "I think we got away with one there."

Prince believed he understood and stuck out his tongue as an invitation to a welcomed face lick.

Though Prince seemed impervious to it, the wetness made Polly feel cold in the sunny spring morning. She considered heading back home, but didn't want the neighbors to see her this way and give them an opportunity to make their disdainful comments about her less than immaculate condition, so she followed Prince to points south. He stayed on a clear path bordering the river, mostly in full New Mexico sun and could feel herself quickly drying and again heating up. She appreciated that Prince moved quickly, regularly shaking off his saturation on the fly. They came to a point where the path split into two. One possibility was partially covered with the tan remainder of last year's tall grass and broken branches and continued along the river. The other seemed clear and turned inland into the woods. After the last experience Prince didn't want to push his luck anymore today, made for the cottonwoods and got no objection from Polly.

After a scenic and mercifully uneventful half mile Polly stopped Prince and sat on the ground. She spent a few minutes brushing off as much of the substantially dried mud as she could, but was disappointed to see that a huge faint stain was not going to go away. She sat and rubbed and rubbed to no avail. Imagining possible Camino De Lucia commentaries she was upset, until she got an idea. If called upon to explain she could lie and say that it was the result of her mother being lax in doing the wash. Her folks hardly knew any neighbors, so there would probably be no method for verification. Freedom is not only clandestine; on occasion it is well served by a harmless white lie.

She grinned and felt slick as a bogged down president on the bayou, knowing that if you keep moving eventually the ground will harden. While Prince was patiently waiting for Polly to finish rubbing herself he detected the scent of something he really wanted to investigate; something smelly, dead and edible. He was unaware that he had some human traits.

He led her off the main path into the never before travelled land, thick with tangled undergrowth, broken tree limbs and discarded vinyl asbestos roofing shingles. He wanted to get there quickly, thinking that someone might beat him to the prize stink. Polly couldn't keep up and kept saying; "Slow, slow," only heard by the brittle, off-white, glitter flecked residents, curling up at the edges to accentuate their ears. She had already learned a method to handle Prince's leash that would minimize her having to yank him. She held it closer in the tough stuff, giving her the option of letting more loose if she dragged behind, and then shortened again when she caught up. It was far from perfect, but Prince seemed in no need of a neck brace.

Polly saw it before he did and they were about to engage in a serious dispute. The porcupine had met its demise a few days prior, however its quills only experienced minor decay and were still quite capable of inflicting painful barbs which were difficult to remove. An even larger problem was the remnant of decomposed meat being enjoyed by hundreds of tapeworms. She stopped and leaned back, keeping him a foot from his "prize." Prince thought that there must be some mistake as Marian had let him eat food he found outside and besides, it was just common sense to taste the gift from God put in his path. He tried to lurch forward and was held fast. He looked back at Polly to determine if she had some kind of problem, like having fallen down. Seeing the upright girl (He was not yet introduced to feminist parlance, but at least had the good sense not to say the objectionable word out loud) he kept his eye on her and tried to again move forward. Held firmly in place, he roared and heard red drum sticks tattoo his bass.

He thought as he stared and growled; "There is no good reason to deny me what I want. You're just trying to torture me. Let me go or I'll take a chunk out of you." He tried to bolt only resulting in a neck stretch as she held the leash firmly.

Though Polly knew nothing of his previous experience with Marian she understood his frustration, but didn't want him to get sick from the worms. Eyes blazing Prince turned to her and ran over intending to bite. Polly extended her right hand, put it right in his face and calmly said; "Okay, if you have to bite me, go ahead. Here it is. Do it. But you're not getting those worms."

Prince stopped, the red drumsticks replaced by the light blue sky he saw surrounding her face. He thought; "I don't understand at all. I've never bitten anyone who offers me a bite. Something is unusual." He saw Polly close her eyes in anticipation of the pain and he felt something new; strangely guilty for being made to forego something he wanted; and absolutely stupid for leaving something lying right next to him that the next animal to come along will surely take. If he had access to a psychiatrist he'd have surely made an appointment. He rubbed his head against her hand and thought; "You don't understand." She hugged him, got up and tried to lead him away, but he tried to return to the carcass. He heard an adamant; "No, no, no," sighed and followed her a few feet.

He got an idea. After a short follow Prince got back in front and walked in a circuitous path intending to come back to the carcass and hoped that Polly will have forgotten about it. She didn't. When a few feet away she said a commanding; "No, no, no." Prince turned to her as if to say; "You can't blame me for trying." He thought; "I don't understand," but then added to it; "Maybe that's it. I just don't understand, but I trust her. ......... Let's see what happens if I find a dead squirrel."

They passed through the woods without use of the main path and entered an area where nothing seemed to grow higher than three feet. The sun was directly ahead and possibly caused vision distortions. While it didn't strike them as being unusual for the sun to have developed distinct rays which changed in size pointing up, down, left and right, it seemed unreal that after glancing at it the ground level acquired a "fog" of radiant light yellow illumination making it more difficult to differentiate one thing from another. The "fog" contained countless points of shining light that filled the spaces between the low lying mariola bushes. Their clusters of tiny white flowers appeared pink in the haze.

It was easy to walk through the noticeably loose sandy soil as there were numerous paths which haphazardly crisscrossed each other and looked as if they went in all possible directions. Polly couldn't imagine how this cockeyed crazy quilt came to be. She thought that eighty percent of the paths were entirely superfluous and that it was taking somebody a lot of unnecessary work to make so many routes which led in the same general direction. She wasn't averse to others working as they so choose, but it looked weird in the haze and she thought that if not for the pointless routes there would be more flowering mariola bushes.

Prince thought it possible that the exotic surreal scene was caused by a wide awake dream state. Since he might never get to see this again he slowed to a crawl wanting to sniff and view everything.

Polly kept observing the myriad of paths. They were so well worn that any footprints that might have been there were destroyed by the sheer volume of travelers and/or the wind. What large groups would want to frequent this out-of-the-way place? People seeking privacy? No, privacy would be destroyed by the volume of visitors. But, there weren't any other visitors now. Coincidence? Maybe if they stayed long enough they would see a parade. Or maybe the parade is over. This was an excellent place to be in the cold of winter as there was nothing capable of blocking the sun. Forget that as there was nothing to block the wind either. Polly focused on the glowing haze which also permeated the bordering trees. It seemed that way from a distance. Birds, the length of a finger, flew toward them, unafraid, going about their business of worm catching. They pecked at the ground and sang in the bushes, pleasantly ending the silence, of which she had not been previously aware.

Prince picked up a scent and he knew at least one of the area's patrons. Coyotes; and he wanted to find them. He moved quickly between the bushes and Polly had to circle the sharp turns he made, resulting in a few neck tugs and ignored "Slow, slow's." Nose to the ground he often backtracked, changed his mind and basically looked like someone with frantic intensity but no clue. However, he did have a clue; the coyote scent. To confuse things that might track and hurt them coyotes form circling patterns to throw them off and most trackers give up. Not Prince. When he came back to the same spot for the third time Polly wanted to stop, but he insisted and she deferred to his wishes with only the slightest of protest, saying; "You don't know what you're doing." Had Prince known what she said he would have made no argument.

The pair ran around a 200 by 200 foot area for a while, Polly feeling like a caboose, until Prince stopped short. Polly's attention went from him to the pale, angular woman holding an opened black umbrella over her head, who sharply said; "What do you think you're doing?"

Polly was winded, felt silly and thought that the umbrella toting woman must share at least part of that and answered; "I don't know. I'm just following him. Prince, tell the nice woman what you're trying to do." She looked at the pale woman and laughed, thinking that her answer was both truthful and amusing.

Ms. Umbrella was not amused, or at least chose not to show it. She sternly glowered at Polly and said; "I can turn you into a toad if I want, so don't get funny with me."

Prince might have thought that it would be fun to be a toad for a while, but his vocabulary still needed improvement and consequently he only heard the threatening tone. He made a long, low growl because of it and also because his tracking concentration was now broken.

Polly had no particular feelings about becoming a toad, except that she would then be too tiny to hold onto Prince, so she decided to appear co-operative just in case this nutty woman dressed in all black was a bona-fide witch. She said; "I think I'm running in circles with my dog, Prince. As to why he wants to do that I really can't say."

Ms. Umbrella looked around as if she expected visitors imminently. Polly only heard the rapid beating of her heart. Ms. Umbrella reluctantly smiled and said; "I guess that's as good an answer as you're capable of. Don't they teach little girls anything nowadays?"

"Of course they do. We learn the same things as the little boys." She hesitated out of fear, and then added; "And that's woman."

"Well, I can see that you do learn some things, but haven't you learned that there is only one boss?" She pointed at Prince who grunted. He had already dismissed any thought of attack as Polly seemed to be getting along with this strange person. "It's either him or you. There is no other way. Do you like to be the servant?"

Polly thought; "Oh, no. There is no escape, even out here." She felt that she was the victim of people's (assuming this was a people) incorrect perceptions and worse; they were compelled to broadcast them. She still remembered that she had no desire to be a toad and wasn't sure that Paleface had the ability to do that anyway, but since she wasn't one hundred percent certain of that, she answered politely; "Prince is not the boss. Well, he is a lot of the time, but I'm boss when it's necessary. I'd simply like to see him have as much fun as possible and do whatever he wishes as long as that doesn't hurt me. I don't know where older people got their ideas, but it seems clear to me that neither of us is a servant. Just a few minutes ago I insisted that he not eat a worm infested porcupine carcass and he didn't."

Ms. Umbrella switched her holding hand to the right, momentarily soaking her pale face in the relentless sun. She squinted and turned to the ground as if in pain, before recovering her composure. Polly thought of vampires, but kept it to herself. Ms. U's voice was softer and took on a slightly imploring tone when she said; "That's never been done. Your aim is too high. It is impossible."

Polly carefully considered her words before speaking. She looked at Prince and saw his happy face looking at hers. She petted his head and said; "How can you be so sure that it's never been done? Maybe it has and nobody put it in the history books. As to high, that's a relative term. There is a highest and a higher and I'm only expecting a simple high. And regarding impossible, maybe I have an advantage because I don't know that."

Ms. U did not expect such a reply. She didn't consider it a conclusive scientific observation, but admired its pluck. She said; "Well, just make sure he doesn't bother my coyotes." She turned and slowly walked toward the woods, head to the ground.

Polly wanted to reassure her and said; "He can't catch a coyote as long as I hold onto the leash. Tell me, would you have really turned me into a toad?"

With the faintest of grins the umbrella lady said; "I'm not telling. It's not impossible," and vanished into the shade of the cottonwoods.

Prince forgot about the scent he was unsuccessfully tracking and sat on his haunches eyeing Polly. She squatted and hugged him around the neck. She said; "Sometimes adults are so stupid. All they like hearing is bad news. That's humor for some. I guess you sell a lot of newspapers if the headline says 'WAR BREAKS OUT,' and almost none if it says 'PEACE BREAKS OUT.'" She derisively laughed at the absurd defeatist logic which guarantees failure.

Prince detected movement in the light yellow haze. A huge toad boldly sat right in the center of one of the paths and seemed to be looking the duo's way. Polly knew that Prince would get sick if he ate it, but Prince didn't. Polly also wondered who it might have been. Prince bolted after it and Polly restrained him yelling; "NO, no, no, no, no."

.............................. What a prize! .............. ................................ Crimson percussion ............ ........ Grrrr .................................................

....................... Grrrr .................................. ........................................... Don't understand ... ................................................................... Hugs ....................................................... .............. TRUST ........................................... .................................... And the beat went on.

Prince gave up on the toad. He walked as Polly had strongly suggested feeling grouchy. He thought; "That's two good meals you've kept me from and I'm getting pretty darn hungry."

South of the fog illuminated mariolas they encountered a larger area with greater distance between the levee and the river containing a mixture of woods and open grassy fields. Prince got off the main winding path, finding it easy to walk, especially through the grasslands. Polly had no problem and the lack of physical impediments allowed her mind to wander to other things; mainly the annoying penchant people, or witches, or vampires had for making their opinions known about matters which were of none of their concern. Now that she had the chance to think about it she was disturbed that even in the wildest part of Corrales she was still subjected to unwanted garbage. She wished she could dismiss it as just that, but she realized that she had little control over her concern with her appearance and it seemed to be getting worse every day. The internet made everyone with no life think that they had some sort of calling to be a critic. She saw it on her parent's computer. Jerks who had never written or done anything themselves felt that the rest of the world was interested in reading their "witty" one line put-downs of all forms of expression. Large charge. Though she was no fan she had to admit that at least Eminem was good at it. In a strange way it really didn't warrant her thinking about it as even if she knew the root cause she couldn't stop it. It would only continue to increase and she was mad at herself for dwelling on the stupid subject. The only aspect of control available to her was to go outside with earplugs and pretend not to be able to speak English, but then she would be deprived of the bird's songs. And it was already too late for that flawed remedy as she already knew and could never forget what it was that the busybody's thought. And the photography capable cell phones that were carried by everyone except her gave the domesticated paparazzi the ability to get their jollies by posting unflattering pictures on their favorite retarded web site. Another large charge. One no longer needed to be a well-compensated celebrity to be subjected to a complete lack of privacy. She wondered if any cameras were yet aimed at her home windows. She understood that she was getting freaked out and if this process continued she was either going to have to get like "them" or commit mayhem on "them," which was no solution because on the one hand she would have to forfeit her life and on the other hand she would have to forfeit her life and become a celebrity prisoner. She had to find a way to completely not care and hope that the hawks were too cowardly to swoop or she could become another member of the zombie brigade. Though she hated the cold she thought of living her adult life in Alaska, assuming that the place would not yet be wired to monitor "terrorist" activity.

A high wind brought in a barrage of white, cumulous clouds which must have been hiding behind the jagged, black and brown, paisley mountain. The distaff gathering didn't threaten rain, but seemed to be on a mission to hastily get somewhere. The sun put up no resistance and continued its steady, slower pace in the same direction, sometimes reserving its rays for the new visitors. The clouds slowed down when they covered half the sky and appeared as though they had plans for staying, leaving the non-combative illumination machine a constant view of the earth. Ground inhabitants may have painted the scene if they were into pretty pictures, but those without that type of taste merely didn't like the drop-off in warmth they felt in the shade, still useful on May mornings in the Midwest. Thermometers remained constant.

Since he was almost impervious to the cold, thanks to one of the best coats ever made the only thing on Prince's simple mind was that he was hungry and that he picked up the scent of some small furry animal and this time he was not to be denied. He picked up speed through the tall grass and Polly had to concentrate on the ground, eyes peeled for obstacles, allowing her the luxury of temporarily forgetting the blabbermouths and blabber eyes. Prince saw the squirrel leap into a wooded area and up a tree. He stopped at the trunk and they both looked up. They saw no squirrel, but the lowest branch was occupied by something that approximated human. It was grinning, its huge pointed ears aimed at the sky.

Prince made a sound like a gruff; "Hmmrrf."

Polly was so out of balance from her perceived lack of privacy and value judgmental remarks that she assumed it was grinning at her lack of control of Prince. She audibly sighed and said; "Oh, no. Don't tell me. You're going to say; 'Is that dog walking you?' or something similarly funny." She didn't laugh.

It got off the branch and shimmied down the tree, jumping the last few feet. Polly was surprised to see that excepting his ears he seemed quite normal in appearance. He brushed off his black and white checkered pants and without a grin seriously said; "I wasn't going to say that at all. Believe me."

Polly was embarrassed, again sighed and said; "I'm sorry. I think I'm beginning to lose my mind."

Mr. Checkers said; "I was going to say 'Is that dog running you?'" He maniacally laughed and hopped in a circle.

Prince considered his behavior somewhat unusual and possibly threatening, so he thought that he'd give fair warning and let out an insistent growl and showed that he regularly visited the dentist.

Polly was crestfallen and thought of letting him go and bite the clown, but stopped when she realized that for all she knew this could be the Mayor of Corrales and then they'd both be in a lot of trouble.

The Possible Mayor felt terrible when he saw the troubled look on Polly's face. He slightly stooped and sincerely said; "I'm really sorry. I'm a complete idiot. I spend a lot of time alone here because I, too want to get away from the gawks. I know how it feels. They stare at my ears and say things when they think I can't hear, but I do. You have to find a way of not letting it get to you or you'll wind up in a padded cell with jerks watching all the time."

Polly gave Prince a slight collar tug and firmly said; "Stop."

Prince stopped and looked at the Mayor's ears, wondering if that's where the squirrel was hidden.

Polly tried not to make any glance at the man's ears and looked everywhere else, making it uncouthly obvious where her mind was. What she was doing was so noticeable the man laughed and said; "See. It's impossible. When you have something unique it is always there, no matter what you try." He used both hands to extend both his ears, stuck out his tongue, bulged his eyes, smiled and sang; "I don't care. I don't care. They can laugh at this. But, they don't dare." After finishing his face went back to "normal" and he solemnly said; "But, I do. ........... Care, that is."

Polly reached out and touched one of his ears and said; "It's not bad at all. It just has the slightest of points and had you not told me about it I probably wouldn't have noticed."

"Liar."

"If you insist."

Prince openly scrutinized the man's ears, ready to roll if something popped out.

The man's loose gray smoking jacket required another button fastening and he said; "I've never seen you here before."

"This is the first time I've taken him here or I might say that this was the first time he has taken me here if you like. It would also be fair to say that we both got here independently. Other possibilities include ...... You better be rude and cut me off before I get carried away with myself." Polly needed a hefty air re-supply and inhaled deeply.

"Did you meet any of the semi-resident weirdoes yet?"

Polly didn't want to risk babbling about the subject as she wasn't sure what would come out, so she intended to say a simple "No," but unfortunately made it sound more like "No?"

"You mean to tell me that that crazy coyote woman has not yet descended on you?"

"Oh, sure. Yeah. I thought you said weirdoes."

Checkerboard felt as if Polly was making light of the situation and said; "You certainly have to admit that she is scary. She scares me, anyway. She threatened to turn me into a toad?"

"Do you really think that she can do that?"

"I don't know. But I have never known her to be a liar." He slowly and timidly shook his head sideways.

"Have you seen her turn anybody at all into a toad?"

"No, but I don't watch her all day and there are plenty of toads around."

Polly concluded her interrogation by saying; "We've seen that."

Prince tired of the diligent quest for knowledge and made a move toward the South. Polly staggered two steps and continued on Prince's way. Checkerboard couldn't resist saying; "See who's the boss."

Polly stuck out her tongue as she barreled by the man, who put his hands on the cottonwood as if he were about to climb it yet again. He watched Polly and Prince depart, then called out; "Be careful." All she heard was the rustle of the young green leaves.

Polly was glad to be going to a potentially uninhabited area and walked as quickly as she could behind Prince. He turned toward the river utilizing a coyote path, the grass beaten down, but no dirt exposed. She ducked under low cottonwood limbs, having to slow him down at the risk of her head. His cooperation suggested that he understood. They walked alongside the river on no path whatsoever, the largest hazard constant tall grass. The wind reached ground level and was intense where they were with nothing to block it. At the same time it cleared out the sky's white water carriers, putting them back in full sun. Prince charged in desirous of a drink and a soak. It was obvious that he became nervous when he encountered a spot with a drop-off, the water over his head. He frantically moved his feet seeking traction and succeeded in slowly swimming against the current with the aid of Polly's tugs. He exited the water showing obvious signs of feeling relieved, hanging his head sheepishly while Polly was mildly amused knowing all along that as long as she held onto the leash he would be all right. Prince shook off the bulk of the liquid accumulation and he looked so cute that Polly was compelled to kneel and cuddle him. She murmured; "I love you, Prince. We are finally alone." The breeze rustled through the infant leaves, masking the sound of anything else moving.

They followed the river until they came to a spot both found either strange, interesting, precarious or a combination thereof. It was a two foot drop-off from the grassy, wooded land they had been navigating to a long and wide rocky and sandy area, probably recently emerged from under the river as there was no vegetation at all. They stood still in the continued marine breeze and looked. They were much closer to the opposite Native American side than previously as for the first time they were able to detect the enduring signs of a fire usually invisible from the Corrales side. The small charred logs stood upright in their rightful place as if the ghosts of once majestic cottonwoods were unaware of the massacre. On the Corrales side the sand was still wet as if its emergence was recent and tenuous.

Prince looked up at Polly, who shrugged her shoulders and said; "Don't ask me." He dove from the insignificant platform, confident that she could easily follow. Polly had no problem with the leap, but she did have some difficulty walking in the drenched sand, finding it little different than mud. She found better footing on the dark pebbles and tried to steer Prince in such a way that she could stay on them. He didn't have the faintest idea what she was trying to do to him, but grudgingly tolerated it, unless it deprived him of being somewhat near the tiny ripples of sea continually erasing the distinctions with shore.

The leash stretched to its fullest and both were insistent. Prince couldn't imagine any good reason to keep him from enjoying the shallow water and Polly thought that he had had plenty of water already and should submit to her desire not to be in mud. The only communication between them was mutual glares. Prince recognized her insistence and deferred to it, recalling his recent rescue from the high tide; for a while. He made half-hearted attempts to pull her his way, accepting her reasonable reluctance until he felt that he would have been considered overly reasonable in any judge's court. He surprised her with a full strength burst to the gently rippling water and made it there, but then was jerked to a quick stop. He turned with rage in his eyes and saw Polly sprawled in the mud holding onto his leash. He thought; "Uh oh," and the rage was converted to sorrow. With head down he took tiny steps in her direction, worried that the prostrate body of his good friend was seriously hurt. He sniffed the long, formerly blond hair that now had sandy streaks. Polly elevated on her arms and screamed; "Yaaaaargh." Prince backed away in fear of what might happen next. He had no idea as to the particulars, but didn't expect anything good. She wiped the sand away from her mouth with a hand of similar quality. She spit and said; "You are the dumbest, most stubborn dog in this country." She stood up with difficulty, sliding in the mud and raised her free hand. Prince retreated to the maximum chain length distance. She brought her hand down and Prince winced and closed his eyes. He felt a furious rubbing on the top of his head, opened his eyes and saw Polly looking like the mummy before morning cleanup, but smiling at him shaking her head slowly from side to side. He wanted to say that he was sorry and that he now understood that she had some kind of problem with mud, though he really couldn't fathom what was so difficult for her when it was so easy for him. He got comfortable and enjoyed the rough petting he was now getting all over and she sweetly said; "Jerk." As always relying on tone, he thought that might be his pet name. Polly felt the warmth of the unencumbered mid-morning sun magnified by its reflection off the river and decided to sit there until it had dried out the mess on her. She wanted to be able to brush it off before she got back to the "civilization" commonly referred to as Camino De Lucia. Though he wanted to keep moving and possibly find something luscious and furry to eat, he decided that he'd better not push his luck and sat next to Polly. Without speaking they watched and heard the river's never ending journey as the temperature rose.

A bit after mid-day they passed through the mercifully vacant street leading back home. Polly thought that they were un-accosted because it was lunch time, an adept rival for favorite local pastime.

Polly led Prince into the yard, left him there, and went inside to change, get his food ready get her own. She charged upstairs glad to see there was no one to see her muddy garments. She slammed her bedroom door in haste and heard her mother's voice call out; "Where have you been. Lunch has been waiting for you."

Polly yelled from her room to the voice that was somewhere downstairs; "I'll be right down. I know I've been out a long time. One minute." She thought; "Big rush. I'll eat when I'm hungry anyway." She washed up and changed into clean clothes.

Upon her entering the kitchen Mom was nervously messing with the doohickeys on the automatic disposal. She often did this when she wanted to pretend being busy and since she didn't know anything about the doohickeys on the automatic disposal, they never got fixed; If anything they got worse. In a voice reminiscent of proper office procedure, Mom said; "You've been out a long time."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Your lunch is waiting?"

"Well, I'm here now. Bring it on."

Mom didn't know exactly what she was looking for; perhaps some sort of apology, perhaps a rendition of where her daughter had been, or perhaps a future time estimate so that she would know precisely when to freak out. She asked; "Is Prince okay?"

"Yeah, after the first fight the rest couldn't even draw blood."

In the voice of a "concerned" social worker Mom asked; "Who was he fighting with?"

"I'm just kidding. He didn't fight with anything. So let me devour these tasty baloney sandwiches, even though they don't even have mustard."

Mom sat at the kitchen table and slid the mustard bottle across it. Polly was sure to catch it as the velocity of the bottle was sufficient to warrant a possibility that it could go right off the sleek edge. "Thanks, Mom." As she chewed she also spoke; "This is what we did. We went right into the Bosque and almost made it to Albuquerque."

"Any problems?"

"No ....... Not really."

"Meet anyone?"

Polly frowned and hunched her back. "Yeah, I was surprised. We actually met two, two mind you; way out where nobody usually walks. ...... And nuts? Jesus."

That wasn't remotely near what she wanted to hear, so in a voice like a doctor informing one that one is, indeed diseased, Mom queried; "What kind of nuts?"

"Oh, harmless. We promised not to bother one woman's coyotes and that made her happy. And there's some guy up a tree, kind of a part time hermit it seems, who's hiding because he thinks that the coyote woman will turn him into a toad."

Silence persisted for about ten seconds, broken by Mom, who in her own pleasant voice said; "You're kidding again, right? That's a good one."

In a high, sincere voice Polly said; "No, I'm not kidding."

The front door slammed and Dad soon entered the kitchen, looking as if there were something he wanted to say to Mom in private. He did a double-take on Polly.

Mom said; "Polly tells me she's met "nuts" at the Bosque."

Dad said; "Can't be any worse than the ones you meet right here in this development. Polly, do you walk by that yellowish house around the turn?"

Polly answered; "Yeah, I think so. The one with lots of adobe walls?"

"Yes. Can you stay away from it?"

Polly was going the other way to the Bosque and really didn't care, but was curious and asked why.

"There's a guy who walks around in there wearing adult diapers."

Mom looked at Dad questioningly, so he continued; "I mean like that's all he was wearing and he's sixty years past being in the carriage."

Surprised to find that some Camino De Lucia rumors are true, Mom opened her eyes widely and said; "Oh." She smirked and added; "That's so funny. You mean Wallace?" Dad nodded and she put her hand over her mouth and said; "You sure it's not a Depend adult undergarment? That's a more precise phraseology. I'd love to see that."

Dad replied; "Whatever. And you're not going there, either."

Polly interrupted to say; "Point of order, here. I have not yet agreed, so you have to take out the "either" part." Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Polly added; "At least for the time being."

Mom jumped in and with a straight face said; "Of course I'm not going. ...... But, do you think you could get me a picture. A blow-up would be great in the garage."

Dad jumped in, pointed a finger at Mom, saying; "Don't worry. I'll get you something you can ...... Never mind." He then pointed to Polly and said; "And as for you, little ...... woman. Tell me that you are going to stay away from the place."

Polly hurriedly said; "All right. All right. Jeez."

An hour or two before twilight Polly had her old clothes back on and went out to again feed and play with Prince. With futility he was trying to climb a butterfly bush to get at a bold, trespassing, tiny bird when he heard the back door slam. His concentration broken, he ran right to Polly. He ate and she got a tennis ball out of the triangular room and walked toward the back. When done he looked her way, expecting another departure from the yard, and stayed near the exit to block her from going back in. She waved the ball at him and then threw it to the southern border. Prince wasn't enthused. He had come to expect a "real" walk at this time of day. Besides, he wanted to again see Checkerboard Pants and find out how to climb a tree. He hung his head, but Polly began play without him and ran after the ball. Prince thought; "Doesn't she understand that you just can't willy-nilly change a dog's routine without upsetting his system. Darn it." He took off full-tilt trying to get to the ball first. The result was a virtual tie as when Polly got her fingers around the ball Prince also had it in his teeth. Each tried to pull it away when the other eased up, resulting in many back and forth movements, but the ball remained the property of both. Polly let go of the ball and grabbed Prince instead. She put her arms around his belly and tried to wrestle him to the ground. He kept afoot by short paw maneuvers, wondering what was going on. She saw that this tactic produced no results, so she used one hand to grab his front legs and rolled him onto his side with the other. Prince was down!!! He had not had the experience since Assassin, which seemed ages ago and it was confusing. Polly climbed on him, but made no attempt to bite, instead wanting a wrestling match. Her arms were better suited to this sport than his, as every time he came near breaking away she pulled him back, using his paws. This somewhat amiably went on for a while until one of her leg pulls injured his back ACL muscle. The pain was sharp and he yelped. She let go recognizing that something was very wrong, but he thought he had accomplished that of his own volition. Drums pounded as he shakily stood and eyes bulged, looked right in her face. If he could speak he would have said; "I can bite effectively you know." When he saw that her eyes showed sorrow rather than aggression he turned around and ran in circles around the yard until his muscle felt better, then came back to her, panting. She petted him profusely, but he had enjoyed their game up until the accident and wanted to wrestle again. He pawed at her until she resumed, which she did reluctantly and worse; very softly. She didn't want to risk him getting another injury, but Prince would have none of it. Unable to get him down with feeble, half-hearted attempts, she was soon confronted with a disgusted Dalmatian face. He seemed to be sneering as he looked at her thinking; "Aw, come on already." Polly grabbed a front paw and when she wasn't greeted with a bite, gradually upped the tempo, successfully finding a balance between hurtful and interesting.

They went on playing their games and even invented a new one. Polly would throw the tennis ball against the back of the garage and catch it on the few bounce return. It was obvious to Prince that his role here was to attempt to stop the ball from getting to her wherein she would again throw it. He couldn't use his hands as she, but quickly discovered that if he could bump it with his snout, he could then chase it down quicker than Polly and then she would have to catch him to get it back. She really couldn't catch him unless he stumbled, but he would be sly without revealing it, making it closer than his full effort would have produced, sometimes making a "wrong turn" right to her. He didn't know that she, too, was being sly and less than perfect in the places, speeds and heights of where she threw the ball.

Polly saw that dusk had arrived and that Prince didn't show any signs of tiredness. She re-introduced their wrestling game and in a few minutes got him back into her leg scissors hold, where he flopped around like a beached mackerel until exhausted.

"Normal" activities rounded out the evening.
Chapter 14

Sunday morning doo-dahs done without the tedious and inhibiting intrusion of any reverential entity on the dole, Prince and Polly scampered to their own bastion of adoration; the wild and crazy Bosque. The sun was just about to make its scheduled daily appearance over the stark mountains, now offering the slightest of a shy glimmer. The Rulestones had neglected their ritual chamisa kissing endeavors to weigh down their long suffering couch as Minister Jackson went through the early version of his faux impassioned wisdom for the benefit of the infirmed, to be repeated on the hour until high mass at noon, complete with special offers to join his ministry at five minute intervals. For only $399 one could not only be a "contributing patron" for a whole year, but would also receive a three inch plastic cross which glows in the dark, as long as supplies last and an inference of heaven when the time came. The Rulestone abode did not exhibit any shining crosses, regardless of size, as they were conflicted by their belief in the axiom that "God helps those who help themselves," and they could think of no better way of helping themselves than hanging on to their own hard earned inherited money. Needless to say, they diligently voted the Republican ticket.

As Prince made short work of the declining puddles Polly offered thanks for the quiet; Camino De Lucia not yet drenched with the voices and hedge trimmers, which normally take residence this time of year. They seem to have a special fondness for the New Mexican warmth, until they depart to their winter homes in similarly bright Mississippi by December. Without direction Prince went through the lightly trodden, bent grass path. Before they got to the dirty water ditch, Prince stopped and Polly took her eyes off him to look ahead. Leo was in front of them with Princess.

Leo awkwardly smiled and said; "Hi." His gaze went to the nearby mole hill.

Prince recognized his friends and pulled Polly to them, she returning the sheepish "Hi" and he excitedly sniffing Princess.

Leo was apparently still fascinated by the mound of fresh dirt when he said; "I hope you don't mind me being here."

"No, not at all. I was hoping to see you yesterday ....... I mean I just wasn't thinking about it today. ...... Oh, you know what I mean." Polly nervously giggled.

Leo looked up and smiled at her twittering eyes, saying; "I have to tell you something. I lied to you the other day."

Polly relaxed, but also got an ominous feeling. Leo seemed so serious. She said nothing and looked at him, while the royalty checked out each other's butts.

Leo continued; "I don't really live on Camino De Lucia."

Relieved, Polly interjected; "Who cares? Few really live on Camino De Lucia anyway. But, why did you say so?"

"I don't know. I'm close by; one block over on Manierra. Sounds like diarrhea." He made the slightest of laughs; more like a snort and so did she. Displaying snout inspection, the Princess and the Prince discussed as much as they cared to about the nature of reality.

Leo continued; "And I live in a trailer." He was again compelled to check the tiny earth hill.

Polly shrugged her shoulders and in a slightly high pitched voice said; "Cool. Got your own room?"

Leo breathed out a minute's air supply, smiled broadly and said; "Yeah and I can do whatever I want with it. ...... Well, almost whatever I want. You know."

Polly saw that behind Leo the sun had now fully risen and seemed to be lackadaisically frying away a few of the evening's stringy, unsubstantial clouds. Prince and Princess decided that with all the energy of a new morning they had been still long enough, so they pulled their humans to the brown water ditch and descended to the flowing pastel chocolate. The Dalmatian and the German Shepherd drank and waded in the deepest part; just shy of their backs.

Polly said; "He's not really a swimmer. He gets nervous if the water is over his head."

"Princess doesn't mind the deep. I just hate it when she gets fully soaked, because when she shakes off it's like a shower for ten feet. Do you always keep him on a leash?"

"Oh, yeah. If I didn't he would eat everything he could get to and if he saw something he didn't like he might attack. You don't?"

"Most of the time I do; like on Camino De Lucia. I used to let her off-leash here and I still do if I feel lucky. There's some nutball woman with an umbrella in here who says that she'll turn us into toads if Princess bothers her precious coyotes and she just might."

Polly chuckled and said; "I met that weirdo too. Do you really think that she can turn people into toads?"

"Oh, no. I meant that Princess just might bother a coyote. And I don't really want that crazy woman following us around yelling. If I wanted company I wouldn't have come here."

The dogs climbed from the ditch in tandem.

Polly said; "Well, how about me?"

Leo said; "You're special," and immediately turned his head to Princess, who gave him a face soaking. Polly blushed and pretended to fix Prince's collar, which showed no need for adjustment and consequently, got a lesser spray due to Prince's shorter hair.

Led by the thoroughly soaked they all crossed the iron bridge and squiggled around the useless closed gate. Prince looked at the clear ditch and had no interest as he had already spent adequate time in the dirty water. "For some other time," he thought. He climbed the levee bank. Princess made a doggy shrug and followed. They all paused at the crest to take in the view of the river, the surrounding trees and the cold, rocky mountain in the near distance. It appeared insurmountable in its two o'clock elevation off the floor and having no observable paths. Closer examination might prove otherwise, but the foursome was not going there today, so final determinations were left to the future. They descended the graduated path to the river and Prince turned southeast, remembering the location of his stinky porcupine, but Polly held him back.

She said; "Leo, do you mind if we go the other way today? I'd like to see what's on this side."

Leo was ambivalent and simply said; "Sure." He followed Polly's few steps before they both came to a sudden halt. They looked back to see two indignant looking dogs, stubbornly on their haunches, who thought; "Nobody asked us!"

Polly queried to Leo; "She does that stuff, too?"

Leo said; "Not really. I think she's learning from him. I mean she usually pulls me around all over the place, but sitting is a new one."

Polly grabbed Leo's arm and said; "I know how to handle it. Watch this." She sat on the ground, bringing Leo with her. Leo looked at her, smiled, shrugged and said; "Okay."

Everyone reclined in the dirt like proper dignitaries. However, unlike genteel VIPs they saw the river flow, the mountain behind it and the clear blue sky, which displayed both the AM sun and the opaque, inconsistent whiteness of the full moon, an added early morning feature in the area.

Princess was first to break the yoga session as she was not in the least bit used to remaining still for long. She got up and took a few steps toward Polly and Leo, to her north. Prince made a low grumble which sounded like "mmmrrr" and followed her. He thought; "Somebody's going to get that porcupine before I can get back to it. I just know it. Women!!!" The gang of four proceeded north at the speed of a dog trot, each pair making regular off-path excursions, sometimes in opposite directions, the tiny humans following the whims of their super sensed companions. Prince was fascinated by the scents left at tree bases and Princess liked the early flowering plants and bushes.

Leo said; "I have something else to tell you."

Polly thought; "Uh, oh," but said nothing and glanced his way as much as her concentration on Prince allowed.

Leo held her hand a second, let go and said; "Let's make a day of this. My family leaves for Lake Havasu tomorrow."

Polly's showed wide-eyed remorse and exclaimed; "You're not moving. Are you?"

"Oh, no, no. There's more work there this time of year. We stay with Dad's brother."

Polly frowned and Leo explained further; "My folks kind of chase around after work. This has happened before. When you're sweating in July I'll be ten, fifteen degrees cooler by the lake."

"I like the heat."

"I'll be back before school starts again. We're in the same class. We'll see each other every day."

Polly didn't want to appear desperate for Leo's company, but was quite relieved that he wasn't permanently moving. With a hint of sarcasm she said; "Oh, great."

Leo's furrowed brow and blinking eyes suggested that his feelings were hurt by her last remark, so Polly said; "We can do homework together."

Perking up, Leo said; "Gebus is usually too drunk to remember to collect it."

Polly thought Leo was being purposely difficult, but liked his attempt to be pointless. She found herself feeling regretful, as without consciously thinking about it she had assumed that he would be her playmate all summer. For the first time the thought of being alone in the wild was chilling. Just a few days ago she thought that this was what she wanted, but now the sounds of something moving in the brush and the shrill call of an overhead black bird un-nerved her. She was reminded of a Stephen King horror movie that she had to terminate early. The dogs led them through an area which seemed to have more dead wood on the ground than was living vertically and her need to watch her footing soon came to be the dominant thought in her head. "Slow, slow," she called to Prince with the usual lack of results as he moved on leaping over fallen tree branches, intent on getting to something no one else detected. Princess pursued, temporarily having had her fill of fragrant flowers and curious to see what he found so compelling.

Leo was also having difficulty navigating the surface obstacles and breathlessly said; "You'll have to work more on that one."

"Slow, slow," she called. "Slow, slow." Her foot caught on a complicated limb and she tripped, falling head first into the remains of last year's leaves resting on insistent spring growth, yet too small to be easily identified. She broke the fall with her hands and Prince was jerked to a stop. Prince turned around ready to complain, but when he saw Polly's predicament he thought; "Ooooooooh, so very sorry," and came to her to furiously lick her face.

She grudgingly accepted his moistening apology, both embarrassed to have been so clumsy and displeased that he refused to understand "Slow, slow." She laughed because his rough tongue tickled as she was all right, excepting a few minor scratches on her palms.

Leo led a bewildered Princess over to Polly and seeing Prince's efforts Princess felt obliged to also lick Polly's face, but with less enthusiasm and looking around between licks as if to say; "Is this all right?" Leo put his right hand on Polly's shoulder and said; "I'm glad you're laughing. You okay?"

Polly dragged out a "Yeah" and pushed herself back up with her hands. She didn't know that it was the highpoint of her three partner explorers' day to see her back on her feet, though all noticeably breathed in and let out a sigh of relief.

The four looked to each other for a signal as to what to do next, producing a short pause which seemed to be a lingering hush. Prince started moving and was soon soaring over logs on his way to the yet unseen treasure. "Slow, slow," and "Slow, slow," came the cries of Polly and Leo.

Doing their best in a challenging situation, the four were soon startled by the partial emergence of what appeared to be a man. They stopped and it continued its sudden revealing behavior from the shade behind a mature cottonwood. Its white beard hung to its belly, suggesting masculinity, but the group did not confuse Beardo with Santa Claus, as the conglomeration of matted hair tapered in a regular pattern, eventually coming to a point. The man was just finishing putting something in the left pocket of his floppy, burgundy pants. He looked at the group and made a smile, not to be confused with one of the friendly variety. It was more like the grin of a wolf greeting its new meal. He puffed a cigarette held between his hidden lips and slurred; "Looking for thumthing?"

Each looked to the other hoping they would say something. Prince sensed what he was pursuing and lurched toward Beardo's pocket.

The ancient man's wrinkled pale face looked like a road map which had been run through the miniaturizing process ten too many times. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, displaying no teeth, merely a dismal hollow and in a lisping elevated voice said; "Hey, keep that dog backth," bathing the four travelers in halitosis.

Polly and Leo put their hands to their noses and giggled at the pronunciation. She firmly held Prince and said; "I'm sorry. I've got him now."

Beardo put the cigarette back in his mouth and said; "Well, good thing. I don't think he likesh me."

Prince said; "Mmmrrrrrr, wruuf, wruuf," and again tried to lurch.

The man answered; "Mmmrrrrrr, wruuf and wruuf to you too, cranky little dog." He took a hunting knife from his back pocket and quickly removed it from its sheath. He pointed the tip right at Prince's face and stared at him with dead, unblinking eyes. Leo extracted a folding pen-knife from his left back pocket. As he exposed the silver blade it reflected the backlighting sun. Beardo sneered, but his eyes blinked rapidly from the glare, making him appear to be in some sort of pain.

Polly said; "Hey!! That's a little radical." Prince still wanted to get to Blinky, especially his left pants pocket. His attempt to move forward was stifled by Polly's short hold of the chain. She gave him a tiny slap on the head to get his undivided attention. When Prince turned, she held up an index finger and firmly said; "STOP." Prince relaxed appreciably, but said; "Mmmmmm." Directing her conversation to Ancient Smirk, she said; "You can put that thing away now." She turned to Leo and said; "You too, Lancelot."

The two male "humans" kept their gazes steadily on the other as they complied with Polly's wishes. Making a sinister chuckle the old man slapped the bulge in his left pocket and said; "I'm leaving. I got what I wanted." He turned and trudged through the broken tree limbs heading away from the river toward the levee.

Leo sarcastically called out; "Come here often?" as if he were making particularly banal conversation in a single's bar. He really wanted to know as he knew that Polly would be coming this way again without the benefit of his masterful protection.

Road Map Face didn't turn around, but said; "You muth not hear very well. I thaid I got what I wanted," and disappeared over the levee.

Polly held Leo's hand and said; "You were very brave. I don't know what I'm going to do without you." She felt him trembling.

Now, without any hindrance, Prince scampered to the tree from which the old man had appeared and sniffed all around it. Polly in tow, he circled it seven times and kept looking up at her with disturbed wide eyes as if to say; "I know it was here. But, it's gone now." She was glad there was no dead porcupine, got dizzy from the circling and led him back toward the river. He made no objection, but walked slowly, looking back to be certain he had not missed something.

At a "normal" rate of speed the group got on the winding main path fifty feet from the river, going further north. They picked up the intoxicating springtime scent of life returning to the flora and fauna lucky enough to be near the banks of the strongly flowing and warming water. No one wanted to disturb the sounds of the birds calling, their wings flapping bringing them from branch to branch, the river cascading over rocks and around proudly high islands still solitary and unspoiled, the periodic rustle of the new leaves and twelve feet tramping through the path, crumbling the old.

A brilliant glow appeared just ahead. Their partially shaded, heavily treed and snaking path was leading them to the light at the end of the tunnel. They smiled radiantly in anticipation of something great and then saw the man made, shaved, ten acre drain field straight ahead with the handball court sized, concrete emergency flood canal to their left. They laughed out loud, Polly doubling over with her free hand on her belly.

Prince and Princess stopped as there were important decisions to be made. They could cut right through on the pickup truck tire track path in the middle, make a right to the river and try to navigate heavy brush, or go left on an easy circuitous path and maybe get in some handball. The feeling of a minute prior dissipated, Polly said; "Christ, there are nuts all over the place."

The dogs' bodies were still, but their heads were leisurely rotating like heaven observation machines, mercifully without the freaky whirr. Leo couldn't come up with any retort better than "Yeah." He thought of asking if he could move in with her so that he could be there for summer long protection, but decided that it was a bit too early in their relationship for such a step. Besides, his mother would never allow it until he was at least thirteen. He added; "Have you ever been this far out before?"

"Never."

"Me either. Sure you want to? There might be even bigger nuts."

Polly winced and made the smallest of shrugs, indicating that she had mixed feelings. She scanned what she could of what was ahead. The drain field left a lot to be desired, but after it there appeared to be an attractive heavily wooded area. She knew that they would be far away from the nearest public entrances, so only the hardiest of hikers would be possible limitations. She was about to say; "Yes," when Prince and Princess made her ruminations irrelevant. They went ahead guiding their human escorts to the prettiest, but most difficult spot; the brush bordering the river. The next sound anyone heard was Polly and Leo saying; "Whoa, whoa" over and over again as the dogs found narrow coyote paths they could easily handle, but the clumsy bipeds stumbled along, at times getting tangled in the two foot high mass of brush. Prince looked back thinking; "Come on, come on. This is easy." Without event they got through the brush at human speed, then without stopping to think Prince continued along the river, the path becoming a combination of pebbles and sand. Polly and Leo liked the choice as the other was back to another area infested with dead tree limbs. Princess liked the proximity of water.

With the woods to their left and the river on the right everyone felt as if they were on their own private island and lost themselves watching the others and feeling the increasing heat as the unfettered sun got higher and higher behind them. Obstacles no longer a hindrance to speed they travelled the non-path quickly, probably more rapidly than any of the participants wanted, had they taken the time to think about it.

Fish leaped from the river, aiming at the sky, only to fall back to the depths. But, this didn't stop them from trying again and again. The splashing flops got Prince's attention and he decided that he wanted a fish of his own. He stopped and everyone else was relieved to do the same thing. He was fascinated with the strange creatures adept both in the air and water. He wondered if they were playing or trying to escape. More importantly he wondered how they tasted. Prince pulled Polly into the river. While shallow at the beachy shoreline, he wanted to get to the deep stuff, home of the fishes and went out a few feet, where he found a drop-off. Polly restrained him as she didn't want to get soaked above her sneakers. Prince's body was totally immersed with only his head above the moving water, looking like a black and white Loch Ness monster. Princess wasn't interested in the fish any more than as a visual delicacy, but reached Prince's depth thinking that a swim was not a bad idea. Prince turned and lurched every time he heard fish acrobatics, tugging and moving Polly each time as her feet were in slippery mud. She yelled; "No, no, no, no, no," but he didn't pay any attention as he thought that this was a special treat and that she should be more accommodating under the circumstances. After all, it's not every day that he saw a bold morsel of edible meat with the audacity to tease a red blooded American dog. One jumped a foot away from him and he tried to catch it in his mouth, but only was able to snap his jaws in the water. The same thing happened a few more times and he was frustrated. He shook his head in anger, vowing to get the next leaper and he did. He didn't try to catch it in the air this time, but rather waited for its descent. Now soaked completely he pulled it from the water with his mouth clenched on its middle. He brought it back to shore and laid it on the sand, inspecting the squirming fish. It was not what he had expected and looked up at Polly who was making a wrinkled face, not fond of the sight. Prince discovered that a fish was not as appealing as he had imagined. She let go of his leash and used two hands to scoop up the flopping fish and threw it back in the river. The four watched it hightail it back to deeper water without it chancing any more flying.

"Lucky fish," deadpanned Leo.

"You have to be lucky if you're going to be so stupid."

"Yeah, he had to do his fancy maneuvers right next to us."

Polly pointed out to the river and said; "He's much better off doing it out there."

Leo shrugged and said; "Maybe he didn't know where he was."

"Like I said; stupid fish. You always have to know where you are. For freedom you must pick your spots."

Prince and Princess got moving, pulling Polly and Leo behind them, who refused to break into a trot, always having one foot on the ground. They came to the end of the beach and were confronted with a straight uphill, two and a half foot incline, which led back into the woods. Prince surveyed the situation. He thought; "If we are to keep moving forward Princess and I have got to get up this thing. If successful we can probably pull the less capable humans." The inept two-leggers were already looking back, hoping to see a spot with a more gradual incline. Prince noticed the negative looks and rather than waiting to be led away he decided to take his shot. There was really nothing to lose as if he missed he was certain he could re-direct himself and land on his feet. He backed up a few feet to facilitate a running start and went for it. He dug his back paws in the dirt halfway up the incline, got his front paws over the top and pulled himself up. Now seeing how, Princess copied him. Polly and Leo looked at each other, smiled and nodded, then mimicked the dogs, who pulled them by chain for the last step.

They were now in the semi-shade of the cottonwoods, though they were also still right next to the river. The beach just ended, its existence due only to a decline in the river's depth caused by development of the area and government "management." The break from the direct sun didn't cause any human complaints as the still air and lack of clouds was allowing the sun maximum hot dominance over the area. Mild sweat on fully covered bodies on the kids and wet dogs were a contradiction as Prince and Princess wanted to move as quickly as they ever had; now feeling cool in the semi-shade. None of the four had been here before, but the canine approach to that was one of excitement, wanting to see everything as soon as possible, while the kids thought that they'd be back many times and if they didn't get to it today they would another time. Besides, they had seen cottonwood forests and the river before. Polly held back on Prince's leash, saying; "Take your time. It will be there when you get there. This is New Mexico. Nothing moves." Prince made a tiny grunt and slowed down for a few seconds.

Leo offered; "The state animal is the toad and I hope we don't find any of those."

"Why?"

"I guess Prince hasn't gotten one yet. They're not afraid of anything because they are toxic. They hold their ground because they think that everybody knows that, I guess. Well, Princess didn't and ate one. She foamed at the mouth and puked for the next six hours."

"Eeyew. Take her to the vet?"

"No, she can puke just as well in the backyard as she can at the vet's office."

Prince picked up speed and Polly did her best to follow. She saw no obstructions as he was content to stay on a narrow dirt path made by horses, some tracks visible on the loose, dry earth. However he veered off between two tree-sized logs which were there so long they were half covered by moss. The new "path" was covered by sparse six inch grass and whatever was hiding in it, so Polly again held him back, saying her useless; "Slow, slow," as she stumbled over the small sticks.

Prince and Princess kept abreast as each detected a new aroma and could not wait to see if its source was edible. Leo came close to falling over when his foot snagged on a log and he brought Princess to a full stop as he regained his balance. Aggravated, he said; "Take your time. It will be there when you get there." He was fortunate that Princess did not understand him as she and Prince knew that this stinker was on the move.

The front of the royalty's necks were so tight against their collars that Polly wondered if it was possible to hang yourself in a horizontal position and consequently ran as best she could hoping that would make the race end sooner. Not to be outdone, Princess tried to keep up and so as not to be outrun by a girl, Leo picked up speed.

They soon saw that whatever they were chasing was tricky, quick and capable of making ninety degree turns as they virtually circled through the cottonwoods, paying more attention to the sporadic low branches than they were to the dogs. Although this was a necessity of survival for the kids as a collision would be akin to running head first into a brick wall, the dogs weren't fazed in the least as they easily passed under them and never considered whether or not their humans had the same ability, apparently assuming that they did.

A few minutes of this arms-fully-outstretched, run-stumble-run activity came to a welcomed end, when the dogs suddenly stopped. Eight wide eyes stared at two, which belonged to a bushy tailed black and white creature not to be trifled with; a skunk.

Polly and Leo spoke simultaneously, one saying; "Uh oh," and the other; "Oh, Jesus." The skunk was tired of running and decided to make its stand, calling on its best weapon. Up until now, Prince and Princess were always attracted to stink, but this was a little much. No one moved and the tiniest terrorist turned up the gas, feeling that he had tolerated enough intrusion and running away in his own home land.

Leo got a small whiff and said; "Come on. Let's get out of here before we get it all over us."

Polly said; "You've got my vote. Now convince these two."

These two secretly wanted to leave quickly as they had ten times the smelling sensation of the humans. However, each required one strenuous tug on the leash to show the little stinker that they were not in the least bit afraid of him. As they obeyed and retreated after one good yank, they hoped that the tiny territorial stench mogul didn't know that to move them previously, it had taken a lot more than that.

Rapidly moving away from the foul smell and hoping it didn't follow, the Four Musketeers found territory abundant with fragrant Western Virgins bower. The small white flowers in profuse branched clusters rose two feet from the floor and were spaced out affording easy passage. Prince and Princess casually followed them through the light woods back to the river, inhaling deeply and clearing the previous unpleasantness from their nostrils. They came to the prettiest spot they had yet seen and everyone sat taking in the view and the aroma. Mature cottonwoods stood about ten feet apart and the tiny white flowers were the only other thing growing. Without any huge shrubbery at shoreline they had an unimpeded view of the rippling Rio Grande River and the mountains on the other side of it. The water was four feet below a sharp drop-off which no one felt like negotiating. They remained silent, their gazes alternating from the river to the mountain to the flowers to the trees. Springtime and getting warmer. After a contented five minutes the silence was broken by a man's voice which bellowed; "This is my favorite spot."

Polly was tempted to say; "It used to be mine too," but thought better hoping that the drunken, staggering old man would continue on his way, but instead he sat with the group. Prince growled and barked out what only he knew to mean; "Shut up," and the old, wildly haired man kept talking.

"My family owns this land and you're actually trespassing," said the man in the stained red and black flannel shirt. The air was now filled with the scent of Gallo, which explained the stain.

Polly and Leo both knew this to be public land, but rather than being contentious they both tried to find some other tangent to go on and came up with blank stares. Prince and Princess grumbled, Prince making a feeble attempt to check out the man more closely to determine the source of the wine scent, held back almost effortlessly by Polly.

Gallo continued; "But it's all right with me if you come here. Other landowners around here aren't as generous, but I believe in letting everyone enjoy the land ...... as long as they come in peace."

The duo again didn't have any response handy as they didn't want to thank him for his false generosity, perhaps thereby making him think that he was owed something. They wished he would leave and really let them enjoy the land again.

Gallo reached toward Prince saying; "All dogs like me; dogs and kids."

Prince snapped at his hand which was adeptly withdrawn, demonstrating the present dog vote, while the kids skipped this election.

Gallo lit a Camel, eyed Polly with irritation and said; "Mean dog?"

Wanting this pesty and God knows what else guy to know that she had protection said; "Can be. Used to be a fighting dog. But he listens to me ...... most of the time." She petted Prince's head and he ducked under her hand to keep his alert eyes on Gallo.

Leo looked to Princess and added; "And it's better not to try touching her as she takes a while to warm up to new people."

Gallo laughed and said; "That's all right. I'm here every day. I live right over there." He vaguely pointed to somewhere back toward the levee and briefly turned to it, thereby missing the instinctive winces on two small faces.

"Yeah, my wife's family has owned this land since the pioneer days." He laughed, solo again and added; "Of course I own it now." He grinned at them mirthfully and they felt obliged to make a tight lipped grimace-smile. They saw that the Western Virgins bower nearest Gallo seemed to shrink from him, probably due to his breath, reminding them of the original German version of "Nosferatu."

"Do you know that this place was once a refuge for hobos?"

Polly and Leo couldn't help making a small, quick, spasmodic smile which they cut short as possible.

Incorrectly encouraged, Gallo amplified on the subject; "Back in the forties and fifties they used to come from all over the place for the good weather." He demonstrated his solo amusement and added; "The fact that there were no cops to bother them probably had something to do with it too." He waited for some response, but getting none, undauntedly he continued; "Albuquerque's the big city and always had police, but Corrales had a population of less than five thousand, not counting the bums. Criminals, too. Nobody could find them here. Nobody even looked most of the time." More solitary chuckles were provided.

Prince and Princess kept their eyes on blabbermouth out of a protective instinct. Polly and Leo gazed across the river, still too young to realize that decades of ignored hints had built up an immunity in this man.

Sensing that he might need a new tactic, Gallo formulated a question, requiring a response. "What made you move here?"

Without turning to him Polly deadpanned; "The quiet." Leo pursed his lips and briefly nodded.

"It hasn't been quiet here since all the development started."

Polly said; "Can't trust anything you get on the internet." Leo gave her a playful arm punch and said; "Good one."

Gallo poked Polly's arm, then rolled up the sleeve of his puke infested shirt and says; "Feel that muscle."

Polly reached her limit and screams; "I will not feel your muscle, you creep. Get out of here!! Get out of here!! Jesus!!"

Gallo actually looked surprised and insulted despite having been in the same situation countless times previously. He considered making another point about his ownership of the land, but after Polly shouted the dogs were on the alert and ready to go whenever the leashes were loosened. He slowly walked away in the direction of the last known whereabouts of the skunk, looking as if his feelings were hurt.

Exasperated, Polly turned to Leo and says; "Why is it that every time you're enjoying yourself some jerk has to stick themselves in the middle and ruin it?"

"Maybe because it's precisely that's what they live to do."

"That's a life?"

Leo bulged his eyes and raised both hands above his head, wiggling the fingers. He croaked; "In Zombieland," and in slow motion he descended toward Polly, who jumped back and giggled. Prince was too young to understand adolescent humor, growled and was befuddled. He didn't know whether to keep his eyes on Leo or Gallo, whose scent was still in his snout.

With the crowned heads on guard duty, the commoners relaxed. Their hands on the ground behind them for support, they tilted their heads back and absently squinted at the bright, warming, unblocked sun almost directly overhead. All they heard was the river's pre-historic insistence on flowing south. No matter what obstacles appear, the "managed," but vital Rio Grande joyously bubbled to announce victory as it overcame each.

Polly woke up to see that Leo, Prince and Princess were still slumbering in the tranquility. She thought that they all looked cute, but there was a small problem. The sun passed over them and its position told her that three o'clock was approaching. Yesterday, she was mildly chastised by her mother for coming home earlier than this. She shook Leo and when she thought she had his attention excitedly said; "Come on. I've got to go home now."

Leo roused slowly, smiling and stretching, intending full cooperation, but not understanding the necessity of rushing things. Prince and Princess got on their hind legs, yawned at each other and seemed to be saying; "What's the fuss?"

Polly said; "Let's get on the levee path. It's straighter and faster."

Leo rubbed his eyes. He remembered that this would be the last time he'd be seeing Polly until school resumed and he was not in any rush. He groaned as he stretched himself out, with his thumbs pressing against his lower back as if he were Gallo's age and condition. Polly and a reluctant Prince were already thirty feet away by the time he was in full gear. He and Princess trotted to catch up, meeting them at the levee.

Polly moved quickly, most of the time at the head of the pack, with Prince behind at chain's length. As he had never before been on the easy road, a number of things got his attention and he wanted to investigate each. At every attempted spot he was gently, but with resolve pulled ahead and he made many entreaty-like growls and wished he could say; "Slow, slow," unaware that it would be irrelevant. He didn't mind that the roles had been reversed, but wished the process was a more leisurely and playful tennis-type of outing, disliking the elongated version of a fifty yard dash. Leo was unsettled, sporadically viewing the long, thin shadows in front of them and got the feeling that he was being unnecessarily hurried into the gloom. As Polly, he remained stoically silent as his perception was not translatable into any words that he wished to use. Polly's thoughts were simpler. She was thinking about what her parents might say and dreading many of the possibilities. Prince and Princess came to top the uncomplicated chart and resumed their head-of-the-pack positions, as they suddenly realized they were hungry, not having eaten since about 7AM.

Prince and Princess recognized the civilization-development re-entry passage and led the way, soon recalling the "socializing" feel of hot asphalt on well-used puffy footpads. They passed the front-border-chamisa-fascinated Rulestones; Polly waving like a pin-wheel and briskly saying; "Hi. Hi. Bye. Bye. Late for a very important date." The rude bushwhackers did not deign to retort, but broke away from their clipping "work" to mutely scrutinize the improperly ordered band of wanderers from behind, slowly shaking their "concerned" traditional heads sideways, Mrs. Rulestone looking as if something had just flown up her nose.

They paused briefly at the end of Polly's driveway. The non-canines both opened their mouths to say something, but thoughts merely raced through heads, going too quickly to find the passageway to the young mouths. They looked into each other's eyes, made a brief, almost undetectable sigh and each turned to their own direction. Then Leo turned back, ran to Polly and kissed her cheek, at the same time causing a profound forehead collision. They looked at each other and nervously smiled. Prince and Princess wondered what kind of stupidity they were now being shown by the inconsistent, ridiculous little clowns they were united to by chain and pulled toward their respective homes.

Leo called back; "See ya in school."

Polly massaged her forehead and murmured; "Yeah, see ya."

"Be careful."

Polly got a few sideways glimpses of Leo heading down the road, who also was looking back, as Prince pulled her toward the house. He wasn't tugging particularly hard, but it was sufficiently powerful to move her in her current "Strawberry Fields" state.

They went through the garage and triangular room into the back yard. Polly unhooked Prince's leash and went in the back door. She thought; "Oh, no," when she was instantaneously confronted with two faces that made the Rulestones look like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston ...... Well, almost ...... If it was very dark. Anyway, she knew that what was coming wasn't going to be the least bit pleasant, so to defer the misery scene, she held up her right hand and said; "Prince is famished. May I feed him before you start?"

Receiving no objection and no approval either she went to the refrigerator and slowly prepared the meal, the back of her neck burning from the eyes riveted on her; or maybe it was from being out in the sun all day, but that didn't seem a logical possibility under the circumstances. She brought out a double load to an anxiously jumping Prince, petted his head and reluctantly walked back in, eyes on her sneakers.

The three took seats at the kitchen table; hands folded in front of them trying to exhibit composure and produced the exact opposite with fingers white from the tourniquet effect. No one had a planned entrée and all wished that someone else would break the ice. Mom got bored watching the digital time display on the microwave remain stationary and office efficiently passed the buck and said; "What do you have to say for yourself, little girl?"

Polly thought that the "woman" correction would be more appropriate some other time and said; "Nothing." She unfolded her hands and admired the tiny blue shelf with the inlaid white earthenware ducks which presided over the double sink.

Mom and Dad started to speak concurrently and concurrently stopped, each offering the floor to the other. Polly's belief in preparation was enhanced. She watched them feebly wave their hands and say things like; "No, no," "It's quite alright," "Please," "You first," and "Sorry," until she found the whole thing mildly amusing. She looked to her mother and said; "Alphonse?" then to her father and said; "Gaston?" She made the slightest of smirks.

Dad blurted out; "You've been out too long again and two of the neighbors stopped here to report that you were with a boy."

Polly's anxiety over being scrutinized by strangers reached a new high and she envisioned bright red drumbeats with a faceless body holding the insistent sticks. She didn't want to advertise her phobia and risk a visit to a characterless psychologist, so she "went on neutral" and said; "Sorry you were worried. That's true and it won't happen again. ....... At least as far as being out too long." Silence greeted her, so Polly stood up, saying; "Okay?"

Mom said; "No, it's not okay. Sit back down."

Polly openly sighed and obeyed. She waited for the next assault, but someone must have forgotten the ammo. As darling as the ducks were, Polly didn't want to gawk at them any longer, respectful of their privacy. She tried to get to the point, if any and offered; "What's so upsetting? That I was with a boy? He's ten years old, goes to my school, will be in my class next year and lives right on the next street over." She blinked her eyes and rapidly shrugged her shoulders as if to say; "So what?"

Mom considered this her area of expertise and said; "You're too young for a boyfriend."

"He's a boy and he's a friend, but he's not a boyfriend." Polly hoped that the tiny kiss was not yet posted on the internet.

Mom said; "Well, okay, but I don't need neighbors coming to the door giving me reports about you."

Polly was incredulous. She said; "I would have expected that more from Dad." She saw Dad's eyes pop wide open and said; "No offense, Dad, but you know how you are about other people's opinions." He grimaced and bobbed his head from side to side. Polly looked at Mom and added; "And you don't have to answer the door."

Mom wondered what side of the discussion she was on, so took another route, saying; "Your walks don't have to be so lengthy. We love you and we worry ...... I think."

Polly said; "You're right and I promise I won't stay out longer than three hours ...... or so. And as far as my boyfriend, Leo goes, his family is leaving for some stupid lake today or tomorrow and he won't be back until school starts. So, if any friendly helpful neighbors provide you with any further reports, they're lying." She was shown silence, not disapproving, but not particularly approving either. She stood up and again said; "Okay?"

Mom and Dad made low grumbling sounds, a bit like Prince, waved their hands dismissively and came close to nodding "Yes." Polly went to her room, showered and put on clean clothes. Mom and Dad looked at each other, each wondering if they had just participated in a meaningful parent-child discussion. Dad went to the wine cabinet, withdrew a bottle and two glasses. He held out one to Mom and she bobbed her head up and down.
Chapter 15

The summer heat gradually but consistently built up in Corrales, by June registering daily highs above 100 degrees, ten more than usual, which prompted many people to be more convinced that global warming was a reality. Lack of rain and the frying desert floor impeded all but the hardiest of plants not privy to a watering system. One result of this was that people walking or driving through town felt as if they were in some sort of an unreal amusement park as one spot would look parched and brown, while its neighbor appeared to be an oasis. The consistency of this lack of continuity became so commonplace to the travelers that they soon took it for granted that this was the way that things are, should be and so what? That was the common take on the situation until a series of possibly set brush fires broke out on parched properties and spread to the well-tended oases. They were minor in scope, helped by vigilant oasis denizens armed with handy hoses and the paucity of burnable material. Some unsavory loners lacking proof suggested that the fires were started by the Fire Department in an effort to elevate their volunteer status to a paying job. While this wasn't a topic of conversation in polite company an "unbiased" study performed by a University of New Mexico graduate math student, using Fire Department records, found a direct relationship between the number of fires and the number of Fire Department "volunteers" over the prior ten year period. The Fire Department severely criticized the findings and methodology, but complete refutation was not possible due to record destruction at headquarters, the result of a fire of undetermined origin.

Prince was an intuitive smoke detector, his sensitive nose capable of locating a lit Virginia Slim from a half mile and as a result a few morning Bosque excursions were deferred by his demand to find the source of the Camino De Lucia stink. Polly didn't want to oblige him, desirous of getting to the wild Bosque as soon as possible. But, since he was compelled, she only had two choices; both bad. She could try to pull him to the grassy path, in which case he would sit, thereby maximizing time in the development, or she could give in to his wishes, go to the smoke source and hope he quickly tired of it. One bright, hot June morning she followed the latter option and he excitedly ran to the smelly miniature conflagration. The good news was that it was already out, doused by the hose proficient oasis neighbor, when they got there, but it was still smoldering. The bad news was that about half Camino De Lucia's residents were already there, many giving Mr. Hose instruction as to how he might have done things better.

Possibly because the most insightful of the instructors realized that there was little further point in telling someone how to do something they had already successfully done, their attentions were drawn to Prince extending the capabilities of the little girl haphazardly running behind him. As Prince bounded through the crowd attempting to get better views of the foul circumstances, Polly was subjected to the self-appointed professors' attention and heard remarks of; "That dog walkin' you?" "You should have him trained," "Who's in charge?" "You shouldn't put up with that," "I know a good trainer," and even one "Disgusting." The remarks were accompanied by laughs of derision; provided by the witty speakers. Polly started to really freak out as she was being subjected to her growing sensitivity to unsolicited public opinion in stereo, in quadrophonic sound, in octagonal dimensions and she wasn't getting paid like a rock and roll star. "Very, very unfair," she thought. The zombie faces merged, blended and twisted as if she had inhaled too much laughing gas and all she wanted to do was get out of there before the boa constrictors climbed to her neck. Cell phones flashed like switchblades, only they were held in front of the contorted zombie faces. This was a horror movie no one else saw, as they considered it their version of everyday reality. She thought of telling Prince to bite everyone, as that would no doubt put an end to the vocalized value judgments, redundancy and oft spoken "humor," but decided against it because it would also cause tons of trouble, especially for Prince. She kept trying to pull him away, but he didn't want to leave until the stench was completely gone. She accompanied her yanks with screams of; "Let's get out of here, Prince," which didn't move him and he gave her warning growls. After a few desperate tugs and screams he came to see that something was bothering her terribly and without full understanding went in her direction. She ran, surprising the entertainment hungry crowd with her ability to take the lead. Her thoughts were only of escape and privacy and she didn't stop running until they passed through the grassy path leading to the Bosque. Out of breath she stopped and looked back to see if she was still in the range of the cell phone photography club. Not seeing anything other than cottonwoods and houses now insignificant in the distance she sat down.

Prince thought; "That's what I'm supposed to do." He didn't precisely know what was wrong, but was adequately perceptive to surmise that it involved the noisy human crowd. He knew it was serious as when she cuddled and petted him, he could feel her body and hands uncontrollably shaking. He sat with her listening to the light sporadic breeze play hymns through the leaves, melodically accented by tiny warbles until the morning sun warmed her bones and the solitude freed her mind.

She stood up and snorted a laugh. She looked into Prince's worried eyes and said; "I'm a nut, aren't I?" He maintained his stare, though his look changed to one of curiosity, cocking his tongue accented face to one side. She said; "Come on. You can tell me. I won't be mad. I trust your judgment completely. Well, almost completely." She laughed and quickly realized that her fondness for her own jokes mimicked that of those for which she had no respect, so to differentiate herself she kissed his nose and rubbed under his chin. She started walking and Prince stayed at her side, still not sure that she had recovered. He forfeited his customary ditch dunks and crossed the iron bridge dry and tentatively; even more so than the humor attempts of an intellectual, post-modern, conforming and best-selling author.

Almost reaching the levee Polly led Prince to the clear ditch and insisted that he go in. She firmly said; "Get in there. I know you want to and I won't be treated as an invalid." Prince really wanted to get to the deepest part of the softly flowing water, but didn't want to risk upsetting Polly. He looked to her and made a sound approximating a lilting; "Aroo." She raised her voice and said; "Do it already," tugging his leash toward the moisture. He thought; "All right, all right. Gee," and scampered down the brushy bank, pulling Polly, who slid down on her butt and got her legs into the stream the same time he did. Prince thought; "Uh, oh," but Polly started laughing as if she were possessed. He drank and waded until he was thoroughly saturated.

He was ready to exit and looked to her for approval. She nodded "Yes" slowly, displaying half-closed eyes. He pulled her up the bank and ran over the levee, Polly yelling; "We're crazy. We're both crazy. And we don't care," improvising words to the tune of an ancient Sex Pistols' classic.

Polly didn't care which direction he went; north, south, east and west were all fine with her as she expected that no matter the direction, they would soon meet someone with an agenda that nobody else bothered to pay attention to. They were magnets for every nut within ten miles, so the best thing they could do was agree with whatever stupidity they heard, counter with something even more absurd and laugh at the show. Previously Polly had an aversion to laughing at misfortune (black humor), but now thought; "Why not? It's us or them and we didn't start it."

Prince took the southeastern trail by the river and Polly shadowed on the thin path, hoping she would soon see a nut with advice. She was in the perfect mood for it. After a few hundred feet they were in the umbrella-coyote lady's domain and she quickly made her presence known. From a fifty foot distance Polly saw the hurrying woman and called out; "Good morning. Hi. I didn't get your name last time."

Umbrella was mumbling something indecipherable and seemingly incessantly. She didn't look toward Polly and Prince as she quickly moved, waving her arms around as if she were a candidate for a strait jacket and sequestering in a padded room.

Polly said; "How very rude." She turned to Prince and said; "See how arbitrary they are. When you want to talk to them they ignore you." Her own words struck her. She thought; "Maybe that's it. Pretend you want to see them and then they'll leave you alone." She again called to a rapidly disappearing umbrella; "Hey, I said good morning. Don't you have any manners whatsoever? ......... Nut."

Umbrella turned back to them and Polly got scared because of the last word. She didn't want to be turned into a toad or be subjected to whatever else this one could do and she wanted the same for Prince. Polly stepped toward her and said; "Sorry. Joking. I got in a silly mood today."

Umbrella looked at the duo with a start, apparently just noticing them for the first time. She exhaled heavily and said; "Oh, great. Just what I was conjuring up."

Polly said; "You conjured us?"

Umbrella's arms stopped waving and in an authoritative headmistress' voice said; "Yes, of course. Why else are you here? Don't ask silly questions. There isn't much time."

Polly recalled her recent determination to out-absurd the nuts and laugh, but she saw that in reality, or unreality, whatever this is, that was much easier said than done.

Umbrella patted Prince's head, which he almost tolerated, making the slightest of growls and turning his head to the side. She said; "Good man. Good and ornery." She directed the next communication to Polly and said; "Here's the problem. Somebody dumped a big, white, long-haired, malamute mix here and he is trying to take over the place. The coyotes might be able to take him out, but a number will get hurt or killed in the effort. He's three times their size and I'm afraid Whitey will start to pick off the males."

The brush rumbled before any more words could be said. Whitey was fifty feet away, glaring at Prince and slamming his paws into the ground. Polly saw no other choice. It wasn't a matter of merely acquiescing to Umbrella's request, as even were she not there this dog wanted to fight Prince, so she detached his chain and worried.

Prince saw the defiant and threatening look on the huge dog and the next thing he saw was red, red and red accompanied by a pounding bass drum. Prince thought; "Who is this amateur to act so tough? You're a puffed up, inexperienced, domesticated mutt. You'll soon find out what you're messing with," and he charged. Not having been stood up to previously Whitey's confidence level dropped a few notches and rather than directly attacking tried to side step the attack. Prince had anticipated this from an inexperienced fighter and sunk his fangs deeply into the side and back of the unprotected neck left easily available to him. He lifted his paws off the ground, pulled down and just held on until Whitey fell and then a bit later stopped moving. He let the limp body go, sneered at it and thought; "This was the easiest fight I've ever had." He walked back to Polly somewhat proud, but also feeling somewhat unproven, feeling as if Michael Jordan would if he had just beaten an eight year old one on one. His head bounced from side to side as he trotted back to Polly, feeling unnecessarily guilty as he licked the blood from his nose and mouth.

Umbrella said; "Wow!"

Polly said; "Wow!" and re-hooked his chain.

"He's a hero. He's a hero to my coyotes, too. They were afraid of that big thing."

The two women kneeled and stroked him in seeming disbelief of what they had just eye witnessed.

Prince relaxed and thought; "I like the strokes, but it wasn't that big a deal. Really."

Umbrella stood and said; "I'm going to try something." She put two pinkies in the sides of her mouth and blew out air, producing a sound only Prince heard. He alertly looked up at Umbrella and behind her he saw seven skinny, black and tan coyotes, half his size, emerge from wherever they were hiding.

Umbrella said; "Do you think he can behave himself?"

Polly held the leash firmly and said; "I don't know."

Prince watched the seven very slowly step in his direction. His first thought was that here was the main event and they're going to gang up on me. He looked to Polly and made a noise like; "Whrrmpf," wanting to say; "Get this leash off of me!" A multi-toned red drum kit played wild modern improvisational jazz and he whined to Polly to let him loose.

Polly said; "You better send them back."

The coyotes took another step and were only fifteen feet away. Prince had to do something right now and step one was that, in an effort to get free, he bit Polly's hand in blind desperation. She screamed, but held onto the leash. Umbrella made some high pitched sound and waved her arms across her chest numerous times. The coyotes stopped and turned back, at which point Prince understood that they were merely trying to thank their champion and he felt horrible that he had again bitten Polly. He licked at her hand, but she withheld it from him, putting it in her own mouth. With an angered tone, Polly said; "Sometimes you're so great and sometimes you're the dumbest dog on earth." He knew he deserved a smack in the head or worse, so he whined and licked her feet as if to say; "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll never do that again."

Umbrella forgave him, rubbed his head and said; "Maybe someday."

Polly was not yet in a forgiving mood as she tasted her own blood. She stared at the sheepish dog and said; "That's twice and it's no joke."

Prince's eyes pleaded sorrowful apologies and he wished that she would hit him and thereby there would be some sense of parity in his mind.

She glowered and he made love eyes.

Umbrella tried to break the impasse by saying; "Try and understand, Polly. He just got through a fight to the death which you allowed and then he thought he was getting into another one, which you hampered."

"He wasn't getting into another one!"

"You and I knew that. But, he didn't."

Polly's face softened some and she gave her tail wagging puppy a rough rubbing on his back and ended on his head, grabbing his snout.

Umbrella said; "You two need some time together alone. Take him for a long walk and if anyone bothers you I'll turn them into a sickly toad." She walked into a heavily wooded area with seven happy-seeming coyotes at her sides and disappeared into the shade.

Polly led Prince toward the river and he kept one step behind. She noted his unusual position and thought that it was appropriate under the circumstances. But after a few hundred feet of well-worn path alongside the Rio Grande she was bored. She was accustomed to watching his movements, trying to anticipate the next one and watching for broken tree limbs and other obstacles on the ground. Watching the river's lulling repetition was fine for short spells, but she wanted something to demand her attention for the long run or else she might sleep through it. She stopped and kneeled beside Prince who immediately started licking her face. She put her still bleeding hand in his face and said; "Lick that, you little devil."

Prince did what was instinctive for him and Polly put an arm around his neck and said; "You're forgiven." She stood up and leash-led him to the front, saying; "Now, make this an interesting trip."

Prince got the idea and proceeded to take her through areas with no trails. Polly was soon merrily yelling; "Slow, slow," as if she really meant it.

Dad received little open support for his ideas, which became popularly known as the "Love Your Bank" program, but took some encouragement from a Marketing Department program which initiated a sign and name change. What was formerly known as the First National Trust now displayed overhead placards saying "Firstrust" with three red hearts at the beginnings and ends of the words. He had seen children in cars pointing and laughing. He hoped that the signs proved to attract deposits as well as attention. Perhaps even more significantly he was happy to have had his annual review, during which the words fire, move on and dismissal were not part of the dialogue.

Mom was pleased that she was able to get a Financial Analyst job with Intel, possibly the only employer in the vicinity to utilize such esotericism. Her only concern developed when the mask change dictated forced her to abandon her feigned smile and adopt a feigned look of deep concern. Instead of worrying that her face would freeze into a Bozo look, she now worried that the required, uniform, PBS news anchor, need-to-take-a-good-dump countenance might scare Polly and other children; maybe even Dad, but that could be amusing.
Chapter 16

Polly heard the alarm sound in the dark as she had set it to get her up early on this, the July Fourth celebration of "independence," though she heard more of America's inter-dependence and wondered if the original word was just an everyday shortening of the currently correct designation. She thought; "Maybe that's why people more often say July Fourth rather than the holiday's supposed real name; Independence Day." She decided to forget that for the moment and one day bring it up in school, but with what she had heard of Mr. Gebus, she didn't think that next semester would be the likely time. Right now she had to get moving, as in addition to the "normal" parade down Corrales Road, Camino De Lucia would likely be having its own "abnormal" spectacle in the form of Deadeye, his horse and his sky-aimed, blazing rifle from 10AM until 2PM and she wanted to be safely back indoors with Prince before he got started. Prince would be surprised at not remaining in the yard after their walk, but Polly thought; "No problem. He's regularly surprised to the point that the lack of a surprise would be bizarre and I want us to have thick adobe between the one man embarrassment exhibition and us."

Prince stretched out his spotted frame, extended his paws to their limits, looked at Polly as if to say; "You can't be serious," grunted and re-positioned himself on the bed. Polly went to the kitchen and first emptied half a can of dog food into a dish, thinking that this would bring the lethargic one running. It didn't. Polly thought; "All right, lazy boy. But, I'm going to have mine." She left his bowl on the counter, microwaved breakfast and started the coffee machine.

As she waited she hummed; "When Johnny comes marching home again," which was learned in kindergarten singing sessions. She saw little in the window other than her own reflection, but heard distant rumblings. The darkness precluded a good look at anything except her pretty face, which she soon tired of. It was more interesting to stick fingers in the sides of her mouth and pull, creating an image worthy of being posted on the internet. She enhanced the display by sticking out her tongue, making the show scream for its own website.

Dad stood quietly at the door watching her. He furtively got behind her and grabbed her around the belly, lifted her off the ground and tickled. Her first reaction of a squealing, startled scream, turned to uncontrolled laughter and then embarrassment when Dad put her back down. He said; "Be careful. Your face could freeze like that."

Prince heard her scream, pushed himself up and thought; "Better check this out." He bounded down the stairs and made a growling entrance into the kitchen, where he stopped and stared at the duo, who were now staring at him, with expressions that said; "What?"

Unable to explain, Prince grumbled, surveyed the room and thought; "........." Since he was now up at this absurd hour, he thought that he may as well have some food and scented his stuff up on the counter. He went to it and put his paws up on the cabinet to get his face closer to his dish; a no-no he knew-knew as his sharp claws were capable of scratching anything they touched. Dad grabbed his dish, intending to put it on the floor, but Polly got a better idea and stopped him. She took the dish and used it to lead Prince to the dark back yard, where she put it on the grass and went back in.

Prince sniffed at it, then took a mouthful, looking back at the now closed door as he chewed in the darkness and thought; "If I didn't know them better I'd think that I just got set up." He heard the rumblings, looked up, saw nothing and spit.

Over coffee Polly told her father of her plans to get out early and that Prince was reticent to get up today. "I was afraid that if he ate here he would have turned around and gone back to bed. It's impossible to get him out of there if he doesn't feel like it." She ate and drank as quickly as she could, went back to her room and intended to change from her yellow "Goofy" pajamas to well-used clothes, considering that she wanted something that wouldn't be thoroughly soaked by the first few raindrops. But, she decided to retain her PJ's and top them with a deep purple, Led Zeppelin sweatshirt and blue jeans. If she got too hot she could always remove and carry the sweatshirt, probably enhancing her approval ratings amongst the burghers.

She went outside in the bellowing darkness and Prince came right to her. She attached his double length chain and they were off. Well, they were sort of off in more ways than one, but this sort of referred to their speed. As Prince and Polly could not see more than ten feet in front of them, the trek start was on the slow side with him in front, nose to the ground, in an effort to detect monsters or any other undesirables that might be waiting there to cause a tumble. Sporadic belches of New Mexico style rain was felt at a rate of about five drops per minute, while the still hidden clouds made triumphant roars as if they had made some major accomplishment. However, the scant wetness was sufficient to bring up the smells that lay dormant and Prince scoured the street side to side, finding out who or what had been there recently. Skunks, coyotes, squirrels and other small furry animals of indeterminate origin were in some evidence, but the overwhelming attraction was the rabbit that he tried to get a while back and he thought that this might be his lucky day. He picked up speed as he sensed that he had focused in on its trail, or possibly tail, keeping his nose so close to the asphalt that Polly was afraid he would scrape it. She pleaded with him, saying; "Careful, careful," a few times, which affected him as much as the yellow line painted down the middle of Camino De Lucia. He went straight to the Rulestone wire fence and found a spot where he could see between the clustered chamisas. He saw the rabbit arrogantly sitting on its hind legs fifty feet away. Prince's body went stiff and he pounded his front paws on the dirt, frustrated that the smelly little rabbit was mocking him, over its perceived advantage of being small enough to fit between the fence spacings. Prince angrily ran up and down the fence in an effort to find a hole large enough for him to use, giving up after the third patrol. He made a sound something like a snort followed by a high-pitched "Oorft." The triumphant bunny took this as capitulation to his superior maneuverability and so did Polly.

As the sun made its first appearance of the day, filtered through the clustered, globular, gray clouds, like a twenty watt bulb enclosed in a dark lampshade, she gave him a bit of a tug and said; "Come on. Let's get going before the chamisa freaks see us."

Prince gave the infuriatingly complacent rabbit one last, hard glare as if to say; "I could have gotten you, but my friend has more important things to do." He didn't believe it, himself.

They went directly to the split grass entry to the Bosque and Prince crossed the iron bridge without stopping for a drink and dunk. He went up and down the levee straight to the river and took his dip there. He was surprised as the water was higher and rushing more quickly than in the past, due to torrents of rain dropping up-river. He came to a spot where his paws no longer touched the bed, turned to come back and was greeted with a strong flow all over his face. Polly held the leash well and slowly pulled him back to shore, the still unsettled puppy looking thankful, scared and thoroughly drenched.

He shook off and remained on the bank, assessing what had happened. The usually tame Rio Grande appeared dark, fast, choppy and turbulent as it slammed into low branching bushes at the river's edge with a seeming wrath, sounding like the roar of a small waterfall. Away from the protection of trees and houses, Prince and Polly noticed the gusting north wind for the first time this morning as it cooled them more than they wanted to be cooled and blew organic debris in their faces, at times making them feel as if they were being stung by insects, though in actuality the bugs and pests knew enough to stay in their tunnels and under their rocks until conditions improved. Stepping away from the black cascade the couple heard the wind attempting to mangle small, soft branches, ripping new leaves from their homes and carrying them to unknown and un-chosen destinations.

They both thought that the morning was menacing and Polly expected to see the Wicked Witch of the West any second, while Prince wondered what more unpleasantness would occur if the droplets from the sky actually became a drizzle or a near rainfall. Each looked to the other to see if their partner wanted to continue. Polly said; "Let's do it! This is a real adventure!"

Prince got the idea and was of the same opinion.

The boldly resounding, overhead, yet-to –be- completed masterpiece, incessantly rumbling and echoing cacophony rendered their useless and insignificant voices mute in a welcomed subliminal, unthinking deference to the overwhelming heavenly and earth-bound displays of upstairs lightning and flickering sunlight, which found its way between the clouds, in a kaleidoscopic manner and downstairs flesh stirring gale-force winds, lampooning the socialized insect, museum entombing dirge; an adventure sought by the healthiest of psyches and physiques, swelling the tempestuous river, violently bubbling and undulating like an overcooked pot of broth over an excessive flame, threatening to burst through its now man-managed boundaries, gently probing at the bush-lined banks, while attempting to maximize its peaking time on the brink, before it will finally break through in a highly localized explosion, with waves of rippling tide, rushing where anything is allowed and nothing is denied; loudly and openly ridiculing the creepy-crawly, bugging, phony-caca of the tongue-tied, dumb, gawking, backward and not-anymore-silent majority, who monotonously lock-step in a dishonestly and falsely ordered geometric procession, considering its symmetrical mathematics perfection while Someone looks down with repugnance at the pitiful and observable failure, as they continue on to their boring and somnambulistic, but unknowingly merciful demise, too senseless and thoughtless to ever realize that Atomic is the way of the living soul.

With the wind at their backs their first few southeasterly steps were taken with caution, remaining on the well-worn path and testing its mud-slippery conditions. With yet no significant rainfall, the tiny, sporadic drops of water were immediately dried by the gusts, leaving the duo the opportunity to move anywhere at whatever pace they chose. Like greyhounds, by their fourth steps they were in high gear. They had no idea where they were going, but were determined to get there quickly, as conditions change all too soon and moreover Polly wanted to get back home before Deadeye started his OK Corral routine.

Prince diverged from the tired and worn as soon as he came to an opening between the trees and tall bushes. They entered new territory with tricky gullies, now sporting decades of not having enough water to harbor any fish, which aridly stand, or perhaps stoop, as evidence of the long forgotten breadth of the Rio Grande. If discovered during the last decade a more appropriate name might have been Rio Marron Playo No Navegable (Un-navigable shallow brown river). The gullies' gradually uphill location shows that it was once deep and wide, when it earned its simpler name.

Polly had some difficulties when Prince led her into the dry holes as he was able to rather easily traverse the graduated declines and inclines, but she didn't possess his good footing and called out; "Whoo, whoo, whoo," when declining. She picked up speed and when he stopped to investigate the bottoms, she had to slow down and stop quickly to avoid running right into him. He'd give her a strange look as since she had never previously plowed right into him, he didn't consider the possibility that she would now. The inclines worried her less as without his help she would have had difficulty getting out and consequently he grunted and half pulled her, sometimes looking back as if to say; "Oh, come on now, girly," fortunate that she didn't know the precise translation of his thoughts.

They explored gully after gully, until Prince saw that they were getting near the levee. As he preferred to remain "down in the hole," as some people refer to it, he angled eastward, toward the dimly luminous sun, still completely filtered by black, thundering clouds. While it wasn't a photographer's cup of tea, enough light was provided for both to see well into the distances. They didn't have the usual degree of detail, but were comfortable in being able to see any huge hazards; the little ones only a concern to lesser duos; or so they thought.

They passed through an area infested with broken tree limbs on the ground. The living cottonwoods were sufficiently spaced and there was little other than grassy things sharing the ground with the dead limbs, so that walking through was fairly easy as the array of small obstacles dictated that Prince go "Slow, slow," without being requested, in order to keep his own balance. Polly smiled and said; "See, even you can't do this one." Her amusement faded when she realized that all this wood on the ground was once somewhere over her head. With the wind rattling through and bending branches she thought of the possibility of one coming down on their heads and decided that this was not a good place to be under these conditions.

Prince dallied in "Dead Limb Acres," partly because he thought he was making Polly happy and partly because the area was home to rodents, squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits, who have a penchant for wooden houses. The slight moisture in the air brought their fragrances to him and he seemed determined to inhale every one. Polly took the lead and tried to direct him to an area only 100 feet away with only a few huge trees and fewer limbs on the ground, a possible testimony to their superior strength. Prince ambled around and complied with the first few collar tugs he received, thinking; "Okay, no problem. For some reason she wants to move. There's more stinky stuff ahead." When he was yanked for the fourth time and the only remaining stinky stuff required backtracking, he tried to do precisely that.

"No, no, no, no, no," came the demanding female voice.

Prince couldn't believe it. He thought; "I went nice and slow through the sticks as I know you prefer. But, after being so good you want to deny me my fragrances. You've got a lot of nerve."

Polly tugged and said; "Come on this way."

Prince took a seat.

Polly knew this could be tricky, so she did a quick survey and decided that since the long leash allowed her to sit under the sky, while if Prince wanted to sit under branches, that was his business, so, she, too, took a seat and thought; "If he's going to be adamant about it there's nothing else that I can do."

Prince had gotten to know the mutual sitting situation and settled in for the long haul.

If anyone was watching they would have seen what appeared to be two bodies, completely relaxed with each other, enjoying a good storm; eyes patiently scanning the slow moving clouds which were only slow because of obesity as the wind was ten times as quick, the early birds screaming with wings beating frantically, but covering little distance as they struggled to get on with their normal activities and gazing at the river through the trees, seeing that it's uproar was beginning to break up long established islands, sounding like a new bulldozer in highest gear.

"Interesting stuff," thought Prince. "I should sit still more often."

Polly thought; "If you're going to sit this is a good place to do it, as for once we have complete privacy." She was really just guessing as she didn't think anyone else would be dumb enough to be out on such a miserable day. She would soon see the wisdom of her speculation, as Big-Mr.-Overeducated-who-can't-make-his-mind-up-about-anything-with-attendant-humor-attempts (BM) and his ill-tempered terrier mix, Brutus, were ready to descend on them. Polly did not yet know that BM preferred to be out on bad weather days for precisely the same reason as she; it was the best shot at not having to rub elbows with the hoi polloi. During their last encounter Polly was without request enlightened about Prince, when she heard BM's slow, stumbling voice venture; "I would say that that Dalmatian would do well to enroll in a number of obedience courses, with a suggested major in Reserve," only mildly irking her at the time as the instructive aspect was well said and sounded only slightly dogmatic.

Polly was first to notice the giant man's approach when she saw the colossal, non-descript windbreaker with attached hood, doing its best to appear as natural green and brown foliage; successful at being a synthetic, shining at the creases, deep discount store hunting jacket. BM was trudging carefully down the most worn, visible path with cranky Brutus, who looked ridiculously frightful with his corkscrew black hair matted down; the result of an ill-advised ditch dunking.

Polly said; "You were right. He can use some training right now.

BM appeared startled and replied; "That's not exactly what I said. Actually the two of you give me the impression that you've established a mutually beneficial procedure (MBP)." He found this commentary mildly amusing and demonstrated that by curling the edges of his un-open mouth.

Polly was incredulous as it seemed to her that BM had reversed his position just when she had playfully, for the sake of a pleasant conversation, reversed her own. Not only was this confusing to Polly, it also bothered her and in the efficient, mock-friendly voice of a department store manager approving returns after Christmas she said; "I know that's not precisely what you said, but it's a reasonable facsimile."

Satisfied with his impromptu display of dry wit and poised to rest on his laurels BM calmly said; "No, it's not."

Prince destroyed the temporary MBP in the parlance of BM, which he considered a mulish standoff (MS), as he got up and crossed by Polly, who, if asked would have described their previous positions as improvisational obligatory compulsion (IOC), in an attempt to see what foul thing tiny Brutus had up his snout.

Brutus is no fool and when he saw Prince coming his way, he got behind BM. Prince stopped three feet away and gave Brutus a hard, evaluating look. He had no intention of touching the little devil. His practical side took over and he thought; "If I attack this runt, first, Polly will probably be mad; second, I won't get any accolades for destroying a midget; and third, if the midget does any damage to me, boy, will I ever be embarrassed." So, he merely sneered, with an extremely low, guttural "Rrrrrr," which only he and Brutus could hear. Brutus put on a show he considered tactically effective (Tacky E), as he darted out from between BM's legs, yipping ferociously for a fraction of a second, after which he would allow BM to pull him back to safety.

After permitting Brutus a few brief excursions into his awfully condensed heart of darkness, which seemed to satisfy both of them, BM reprimanded in a professorial fashion utilizing demonically pursed lips to say; "I should think it best we be on our way."

While Polly was grateful for the gist of the communication, she didn't at all like the manner in which it was delivered. She knew that the ado was over nothing much and that manneristic comedy suffered only an uncouth brush by, but she felt obliged to attempt some fun by way of IOC. She called out, to the rhythm of echoing thunder in the valley; "So, does he need training or not?"

The only possible response Polly could detect was a stiffening of BM's back.

Polly tried again, saying; "Does he need training or not?"

No response.

She almost choked on the words she added; "I really value your opinion."

When BM reached a comfortable distance, he picked up Brutus, turned and said; "As one considers the prerogatives known to be available and making allowance for those not yet seen, it becomes abundantly clear that the practicality of more information is never a dis-service."

Polly giggled. She looked at Prince and fluttered her eyes, which he understood to mean something like; "I love you," "I'm feeling extremely silly," or both. She led him north. She said; "BM is going south and if we run into him again, he'll have had time to expand on his thoughts."

Prince thought; "Should have asked him if he was capable of voting."

They crossed over the path numerous times as they zigzagged from the levee to the river. Prince found the newly wet fragrances irresistible. He stopped at every one and sometimes dug down trying to find the source.

They reached the drain field and handball court, which supposedly had some use in case of a flood and stopped at wood's edge. During the last flood the devious water avoided its human approved concrete path and chose to rest in forbidden back yards. They looked out and at each other, registering aesthetic disapproval for the flat, shaven monstrosity and its brittle playmate. For a moment they wondered if it was worth the effort to pass through the eyesore and decided that it was as the land on the other side was the most attractive they had seen. They took one step and they heard a loud crackle and slow sizzle. Worse was what they saw; lightning had struck right in the middle of the drain field and whatever got sizzled was now hidden under the short brush.

Polly stopped and said; "Whooo."

Prince stopped and thought; "Whooo."

Polly said; "It will be there tomorrow."

Prince thought; "I think it will be there tomorrow, but if not, we'll find something else."

They turned back, using the primary path, as today Prince had already investigated the offshoots most interesting to him and he was averse to going back the same way he had come. He wasn't ready to go home yet, so he bypassed their entry path and continued southeast along the rising river. However, where the path turned inland, he ignored it and went through ten feet of five foot tall, soft grass and entered a sandy area, which was well on the way to being slowly reclaimed by the feisty Rio Grande. He walked the edge, enjoying how the tiny waves rushed over his paws only to retreat again, becoming more self-assured with each push.

They came to the end of the beach and would either have to turn back, swim or climb the steep three foot dirt wall into the woods. The choice took no thought whatsoever for Prince and he looked for a spot he could climb. He found one with sufficient indentation to afford him two jumps, which he made easily, then pulled Polly up. In one direction they were confronted with an irregular winding path through thick woods which dictated remaining on it and in another more tall and soft grass. Prince opted for the latter, thinking that the walk would be an easy one with the opportunity to go in all directions. What he didn't know was that while the grass he saw was soft at the new growth edges, the plant was actually a perennial reed, which got harder with each passing year and culminated in difficult woody bushes.

They went through the soft stuff easily and Prince enjoyed pushing down the blades, revealing a surprise ahead. The "grass" got harder, but was still not a problem until they got into hard wood. It was clustered so tightly that there was no way to avoid going right through it. The only other choice was to turn back, but this didn't suit either of their personalities.

Because of her height advantage Polly could see over the top of the rigid, five foot, nuisance plants and observed that if they continued their course and struggled with the difficult bushes, they'd be out of them in six feet. Prince had a lower perspective and noticed that a small gutter ran through the reeds and afforded a bit of an improved path as nothing grew in the trench which, now dry, was created by run-off during heavy rains. Prince insisted on following the gutter and it wasn't an easy trip for Polly as the bushes would snap back at her and hit her face like a whip. She could see that if one followed the trench there was no visible exit from the reeds. For all she knew that route could go on forever. She decided that it was best for them to force their way through six feet of heavy wood and tried to get Prince to go that way. His lower and more immediate vision could not imagine Polly's elevated, lengthier one. It made no sense to him and he was getting stuck with brushwood all over. He was in the lead and was having a more difficult time because after he laboriously flattened out the wood, Polly could, without much difficulty, pass through the space he had created. He backed out and insisted on following the gutter.

Polly saw futility and decided to become the path maker, using her feet to trample the imprisoning sticks. This was a tedious process and Prince saw no point in it. He kept yanking her to the trench, making her work more difficult, and causing an occasional stumble. Each one increasingly taxed her patience and she soon heard her own Ginger Baker solo.

She inserted two fingers into his blue collar and rudely pulled him back to where she stood, yelling; "Just sit right there, stupid."

Prince was tempted to advise her that his teeth had not yet fallen out, but he was sufficiently relaxed to remember that he always hated himself immediately after the two previous Polly bites. He considered his circumstances. He was comfortable, didn't have to do any work and he politely sat and watched. He thought; "If she's got a problem with exasperating, longstanding bushes, let her knock herself out. It doesn't hurt me any." He alternated his gaze between Polly's struggling frame and the only other vista open to him; straight up to the cantankerous, rumbling sky. It was putting on an excellent show, reminiscent of a 1930's horror movie. Without the benefit of a gardening tool or two, six feet of thick, old brushwood takes some time to clear. Keeping his head up that long became excruciatingly burdensome to one called a Prince and he feared that if he continued his uncomfortable posture he might get a whopping crick in the neck. In his stillness he realized that he was hungry and needed something to munch on while he watched the cutting edge, overhead doctor try to harness lightning and create life.

Prince thought that he had given Polly sufficient time to pursue her fruitless endeavor and he moved toward the tiny channel and gave her a bit of a tug. He knew nothing of timing. Polly was sweating profusely and her hair was now home to eight twigs.

He heard a loud, shrill voice momentarily stifle the sky and say; "JUST SIT RIGHT THERE, USELESS, OR YOU'LL DISCOVER THAT YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH TEETH."

Prince sighed and went back to his former spot, though, to protect his sensitive neck; he kept his eyes focused near Polly's butt. He thought; "This is one mean, determined woman." He realized that statement could be construed as his admission of having had lost control of the situation, which he actually didn't mind at all, but in case he were to say something to his less liberated doggy friends, he decided it would be better to say something like; "That woman is driving me crazy and I'm only going to give her a little more time," and hope no precision freak asks the definition of "little."

He didn't sit much longer before a genuine miracle took place right in microscopic Corrales. He saw a parting of the bushes, with filtered, kaleidoscopic light pouring through from the other side. He was no less impressed than Moses in awe of the work of God; in this case technically Polly, and he quickly followed her through the opening and thought; "You better get those sticks off your head before someone else sees you."

Polly had worked up an appetite doing the miraculous work and was in full ravenous sync with Prince, so they made their own path through woods and brush, the most direct and shortest line possible to their original entry point.

They moved quickly into the development, Polly enthused that she would soon have her hunger contented and that they had made it back before Deadeye again proved to himself, if no one else, that he was the most patriotic man this side of the handball courts. But, as seems to always happen, when you think you have it made, someone else senses your exultation and does their best to steal or end it. The feeling must produce a chemical change in the body which can be identified by the professional purveyors of pathetic propriety.

Polly thought; "Lo and behold; look who just came out of his house to take a walk this very second; Handyman Howie." The smiling, aggressive, fifty year old man knows how to fix everything man created and a few of God's mistakes. If confronted by Howie, people describe their entire existence as ideal or impeccable as if anyone makes the mistake of saying that there is something less than perfect in their house or on their grounds, Handyman Howie will be shortly on the job, at an above market rate fee, which is the neighborly thing to do for a man whose wife and two children are afflicted with expensive attention deficit disorder (ATD) problems, which clear up when not in the presence of Howie. Having him overcharge, for "reason" of his lengthily detailed necessity, for a job wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen in a town where for fear of losing a good man to the crowd, homeowner's don't exchange the most important of information. Which service people do anything right? Howie isn't one of them, and though he somehow finds jobs elsewhere, he has not worked on Camino De Lucia for years, as the residents know him. But, this doesn't deter the undaunted average sized Catholic with a belly just shy of pregnancy from believing in the possibility of miracles.

Tactlessly and insistently, Howie said; "What happened to your head?" grinning sufficiently to advertise two gold teeth, the shining highlights of an otherwise bland and typically average face.

Polly suspected that Howie had moved into the growing, more lucrative occupation of head fixing. She checked her head and found some of the sticks. As she removed some she replied; "Oh, we were in the woods," hoping that she would indicate a momentary minor consideration and not something worthy of his new area of expertise.

"Looks more like the woods were in you." Grin, grin, grin.

Disinterested, Prince kept moving, pulling a very agreeable Polly with him, but the intruder would have none of that. Howie continued; "You're the first ones I've seen today."

Polly mumbled; "That's not surprising."

"What was that?"

"Talking to Prince. ....... Our lucky day, I guess."

In his well-practiced, ingratiating tone Howie inquired; "I haven't had the pleasure of seeing your wonderful parents for some time now. How's everything at home?"

"Impeccable."

Howie grunted, disappointed to see that even kids today know the game. He decided to take a different approach and said; "That's no way to walk a dog." He took the leash from her, adding; "Let me show you how it's done." He brought Prince to a temporary halt, got alongside him, nodded and said; "Okay, let's go."

Prince thought that Howie wanted to race and took off full blast with the man yelling; "Slow, slow, slow," with its customary degree of effectiveness. The man fell on the grass shortly before the Thatcher driveway and Prince pulled him, face to the ground, the rest of the way. Prince then turned around to find Polly and saw that she had not moved. It looked as if she was either laughing or cheering for the winner. He wondered why she didn't run with them and decided to go back to her to find out. Howie was just unsteadily getting on his feet and Prince's rush pulled him the other way, again face in the ground. Like a sled dog, Prince dug in and used all his strength to attempt to get back to Polly, moving the man a few feet with each lurch. He let go of the leash and Prince was soon with her.

Polly again took the confused dog's leash and considered that there might be some repercussions from this event, so she decided to take the initiative and yelled at the man; "How can you let go of the leash? There could have been a car coming."

Howie looked flabbergasted, which wasn't all that unusual. As he brushed off his pants, he strongly countered with; "What am I supposed to do?"

Polly had a number of possible answers. She could have said; "You're the one who knows all the answers," "You shouldn't have taken the leash in the first place," or "Consider a change of attire," but decided to go right for the throat, angrily saying; "It's also against the law to let a dog loose on a public road with a $500 fine. And I'm a witness."

With a much lighter tone Howie squeaked; "$500?"

"Little over."

"Well, look little girl ..."

Polly cut him off to assert; "Woman."

Howie grimaced, but continued; "Woman, why don't we forget about this whole thing?"

"I don't know. You endangered my dog."

"Oh, come on. I was being scraped up and there were no cars on the road."

Prince sensed that Polly wasn't being treated properly. He growled and showed Howie that he had no gold teeth, barking twice loudly. Polly reflected, then said; "Prince and you were lucky. ...... Okay, but don't ever bother us again."

"Okay."

"That goes for the rest of my family, too."

"Okay."

"All right then; get out of here!"

Howie extended both hands, using his usual palms up approach and walked away. Polly and Prince ran to their house. When they got to the back yard, Polly let out a burst of laughter. She had discovered one way of avoiding unwanted attention; make it cost them. Prince was confused and he was getting used to being that way around humans. He thought; "There was a potential altercation near eruption and now crazy Polly found the whole thing amusing. I won't even ask."

Still snickering, Polly went in the house to get Prince's food. Mom was sitting idly in the kitchen with the appropriately named "Corrales Comment" on the table flipping through its pages, in an attempt to find something a bit entertaining, even if it had to be unintentionally amusing. She was desperate for a joke and when she saw her daughter laughing, she wanted to join the merriment asking; "What's so funny?"

"I think I got rid of Handyman Howie for all of us forever."

"That's not funny. It's a blessing."

"Yeah, it is too, funny. He grabbed Prince's leash to show me how to walk a dog."

Mom looked skeptical.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, Prince started running and pulled him over. Howie let go of the leash and I threatened to bring him to court for letting a dog loose on a public street; $500 smackers."

Mom made the briefest of smiles and said; "That should be in this paper," then went back to it.

Polly filled the dog dish, brought it to her room and went back out to retrieve a surprised Dalmatian.

Prince thought; "Where's my food. I've had a rough day."

Polly led him to the door and he then thought; "Who's going to patrol the yard all day?" He went in with her, shaking his head, thinking; "She's crazy. There is never any sense in asking any questions. You've just gotta love and trust her."

Mom and Dad sat in front of the living room television, watching a program which was recommended to Mom by a neighbor named Suzanne. The divorced, fiftyish guru of the New Age heads a healing-prayer group consisting of women in similar circumstances praying for serenity in their lives, however there is only one man in the group and he is married to Suzanne's chief flunky. On that day Suzanne wore a fringed jacket and pants, evocative of an American Indian outfit she had seen on "Davy Crockett," as a kid, which she had purchased, on sale, from Nunzio's Native American Chinese Imports. Suzanne had the distinction of having channeled Lazaris, an independent, free-lance and loquacious spirit, angel, messenger, prophet, nuisance or all of the aforementioned, who said, intoned, resonated, communicated directly through brain invasion, or all of the aforementioned, that if there was not massive world repentance by 12-31-11 that the weary old globe would explode 1-1-12. She is of further New Mexican note as she is the only state resident, and perhaps the only resident of the United States, North America and Western Hemisphere to have written a book about her relationship with Lazaris, who was not the least bit monogamous or discreet, which was published 6-15-12, obviously subsequent to the massive world repentance, approximately one thousand copies of which improve Suzanne's buckled, parquet living room floor and parts of the above walls. Meeting attendees are encouraged to purchase a personalized, autographed copy as Suzanne has two hyperactive teenage daughters, requiring medication between boyfriends, and a backed-up septic tank, which is often pointed out in breaks between sickeningly smiling, hands up, meditations and hushed breath lectures concerning the lauded goal of the perfection of one's self, which some unwise heathens and otherwise cruel cynics say is actually finding a new, more "enlightened" husband, enlightened of his capital and income, just as the truly devout have been unfairly judged since the Catholic Church strongly suggested the spiritual benefit and necessity of tithing.

Mom thought that she was entitled to be humored and had successfully invited Dad to join her in watching "The Glorious Self," a panel discussion concerning the role of yoga meditation in attaining perfection, complete with a minimally backlit, silent, fifteen minute demonstration by the six female panelists, one having to leave stage early, the result of a disturbing sneezing fit.

Mom and Dad appropriately stared at the still screen in their own form of relaxation. When the broadcast ended with a hugging session during which the six stars remained two feet apart and may have briefly touched cheeks and Sneezy accidentally sprayed two otherwise flawless sisters, Mom shut the television and said; "I'm going to get plenty of time to sit still in the quiet darkness. I don't need it now." She went to the wine cabinet and poured one for herself and one for Dad, which she handed to him palm up.

Dad was tickled and as he made inaudible, contented "Thank yous." He offered his take on the end of the world, saying; "It's always a bad bet to say that the world will end, as if you're right it will be extremely difficult to collect and if you're wrong they'll easily find you." Mom found his linguistic observation stimulating and gave him more wine.

At 10AM, everyone was able to confirm who was going to be patrolling, not only the Thatcher domain, but the entirety of Camino De Lucia; PTSD Deadeye accompanied by his brown stallion McBundy. The Thatchers heard rifle reports. Mom and Dad cautiously went to a street window, keeping their bodies behind the adobe wall and using their heads to peer at the activity, which they realized wasn't the brightest thing in the world to do, but until they grew eyes on their butts, would have to suffice. Polly and Prince came down the stairs and Dad said; "Polly! Stay away from the window." He looked at the driveway and added; "You forgot to close the gate."

Polly was surprised and said; "I never close the gate."

Prince put his front paws on the brick window sill and saw the combat fatigued and booted man with a black mushroom-top helmet on an embarrassed looking horse point his rifle to the threatening dark sky. Prince wasn't thrilled about the weather, but he wasn't all that upset about it, either. His opinion of humans was strengthened. He momentarily wondered if shooting at the sky did any good, but decided that it obviously didn't, as if it did he would have seen a lot more malcontents doing the same thing. He looked at Mom, who was smiling when she said; "He's not interested in our driveway."

They watched him continue down the road, disappearing around the bend a few doors away. Dad said; "Maybe I ought to go close that gate before he comes back again."

Polly said; "Maybe he'll notice and get mad."

Dad thought she had a point, but not wanting to appear incapable of defending his own property, actually the legal property of both he and the Mrs., but that's not all that relevant in this situation, he went out the front door and moved in an ersatz catcher's crouch down the brick walkway trying not to elevate his head beyond the cholla cactuses lining it. He nervously scooted over part of the unprotected driveway and got the gate closed. He reversed his field and got back inside the door, where he was greeted by two giggling, hugging women, who called him their hero.

Prince thought that the inside show was better than the outside one, thinking; "It must be that there's something that I'm just not getting. Maybe if I pay better attention, someday .... "

Droplets of rain hit the viewing window and Polly wondered if Deadeye's barrage had pierced the clouds in the sky, but quickly concluded that it couldn't have, as if it could it would have already been incorporated into some standardized, scientific, meteorological procedure. She was surprised to realize that she and her entire family were peering out the window as if it were a TV; precisely one of the things that made her disdainful of the snooping others. .......... But, this was different because they were watching a legitimate nut. .......... Hmmmmmmm."

A bolt of lightning, a crackle and a boom ended her foray into accidental, unwanted insightfulness. The house shuddered.

Dad scurried to a back window and woefully said; "I hope the lightning didn't hit the water pump again. I don't know why it likes that spot so much. Isn't there some old axiom that says lightning never hits the same place twice?"

Mom deadpanned; "Last time it fried the controller and the relay."

Dad shook his head and said; "Yeah, three different service people, eight visits and $2,000. That's the dilemma. It takes lots of work and the right materials to build something, yet it is easily destroyed by the blast of one idiot."

Polly asked; "Who's the idiot?"

Dad opened his mouth to say something, but decided that it was wrong before he became vocal. He looked to Mom for help, but she just grimaced, shook her head and showed him her palms.

Prince wished Polly had asked him as he had now been around humans long enough to have come to a few conclusions.

Dad held his breath, walked out the back door, went through the crazy triangular room and into the garage. He pushed three buttons of the controller and with munchkin steps, slowly walked back outside, afraid to see the bad news. He trembled and shook when he heard another nearby lightning bolt strike. "Hallelujah," he thought as he saw six rotating heads doing what they were supposed to; spraying water in thirty foot semi-circles. Desirous of a closer view, he went to one and inadvertently got face sprayed by another. He laughed as he didn't mind at all, because the system was working correctly. He went back to the garage to shut it down and then went inside, wet and smiling. He wordlessly opened the wine cabinet, poured a red for himself and Mom, brought it to her and gave her a big laughing hug.

Prince resisted thinking what was becoming extremely redundant.

Polly considered again asking; "Who's the idiot?" but was fearful that the question might be incorrectly interpreted and taken personally. She and Prince stood at the front window, viewed the grounds now running with random, shifting streams and instead of risking the tedious philosophical discourse, she excitedly yelled; "Come here! You've got to see this one!" Prince's tail spun like a helicopter about to take off making a thump-thump against the wall-wall.

Armed with wineglasses Mom and Dad carefully made their way to the moistened entertainment screen and Dad said; "Holy ...."

In the steady drizzle Deadeye must have thought that he was back in the clammy jungle on the booby-trap-mined Ho Chi Minh Trail. He was on foot, sort of and most of the time, having left McBundy safely at home. Either that or he went AWOL. Combat fatigues and beard thoroughly soaked and clinging to his skin, he staggered and swung his rifle from one side to the other. He frequently crouched or fell to the ground, most often when he detected possible sniper activity in the not-yet-defoliated brush at his sides. He screamed; "Come out and fight like a man. I'm the only one left, but it ain't over until the last man falls." Gun ready at the shoulder he approached the Thatcher gate and eyed the camouflaging plants with bulging eyes, intent on settling the issue once and for all.

The Thatchers hit the brick floor, not wanting to be seen and putting thick adobe between them and the soldier fighting a war, that they had incorrectly thought was over forty years ago. Accustomed to the duty of protecting his property, which was technically the property of Adam and Lily Thatcher, but that was currently irrelevant, Prince let out a series of threatening growls and barks, which resulted in his being tackled and pulled to the floor by the whole family. He sighed, without a clue as to what prompted the team pounce and remained on the floor, with his chin flat to it, thinking; "I wish they would make sense, just once."

All but the rumbling sky was quiet on the western front as the trio breathlessly looked at each other while Prince tried to tally the number of white painted, adobe bricks in the wall, frustrated that he could only count up to a tragically hopeless five.

Dad put one eyeball to the glass and saw that Deadeye passed the gate by and was now squatting behind a cottonwood tree across the street, rifle aimed at the black Peugeot in the driveway, driven by one of the area's uninformed newcomers, who was fortunate to click open the garage door, drive right in and close it behind her.

When he remembered that there were no automatic garage doors on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, Deadeye's mind clunked back to the approximation of reality which was "normal" for him. He knew he was on Camino De Lucia in the town of Corrales, in the state of New Mexico, in the United States of America, that it was 1969 and he was home on temporary R&R. Though not seeing anyone, he waved to anyone he might have offended and walked back toward his house to get McBundy.

As they again paraded, the proud brown horse watched the ground, not feeling up to eye contact with anything taller than a flightless insect, though he didn't know that had he looked up the result would have been the same. The white "human" watched the sky, feeling alive with a face full of rain. He defiantly shot up, hoping to hit what he considered to be the source of all his troubles, the target hiding above, momentarily ignoring the fluid cooking on the ground in the summer heat, which was the only solution available to him.

Unaccosted, he was still on his vigil at 1:45PM. Inside, people switched channels long before that, searching for "action" entertainment; many gleefully finding the seventh cable repeat of "Rocky XXXV," wherein the hard-working, diligent, sixty-eight year old pugilist makes yet another comeback to battle the young kick-boxing champion, Chu Wang, ostensibly to prove that Americans are not only limited to hand dexterity, but are also capable of putting a foot into it. The lone horse rider's only remaining audience showed his snoot each time he passed in front of the Thatcher residence. Paws on the window sill, Prince howled out a warning call to the helmeted horseman and each time Deadeye nodded and casually waved in the brave puppy's direction, saying; "You're a good guard dog." The repetitious parade continued until 2PM, when McBundy sensed that the gunner on his back had fallen asleep and took Deadeye home.

And Camino De Lucia was again safe for meddlesome democracy for the foreseeable future.

The foreseeable future came to an abrupt halt when the ominous dark clouds which had been thundering and blowing through the windy sky all day decided to do their damage just prior to dusk. Torrential rains descended whipping like pellets on anything outside, cleaning the driveway cars with power blasts not available at local car wash places. The cracked liberty bell, atop the Thatcher residence played a call to arms, its clapper rocking in the storm winds. At least that appeared to be the likelihood in the opinion of the self-appointed protector of neighborhood independence; Deadeye.

He had done some backyard target shooting while McBundy hid and Deadeye downed half a bottle of Jack Daniels since his afternoon one-man parade and did not want to get out of his plushy recliner in front of his wall mounted, large screen television, especially in the middle of his favorite movie, "Heavy Metal Jacket;" but duty was indeed duty, unless the bells he heard were the sounds of his brain bouncing around like a BB. Sitting comfortably in the drawers he marked for the month of July, he pushed down on the foot pad, bringing the chair to its "normal" position, only slightly staggering as he rose from the wobbling piece of furniture. He went to the open eastern window and was showered with rain, which matted down his now dry and scraggly beard, but more importantly confirmed what he thought. From his almost outside vantage point he was now certain that the liberty Bell was calling its fool head off and the call was to Mr. PTSD; him. He thought; "The nerve of those commies to attack right on the most special day. I'll show them that America is always on the alert." He quickly put on his combat fatigues and helmet, tripping as he had some difficulty getting his legs into the pants, grabbed his always-ready rifle and strode to the barn. His horse, McBundy was reclining on the straw floor and looked startled to see him, with an expression that seemed to say; "You must be kidding. There's a downpour." Deadeye was undeterred and slipped on the saddle and reins, saying; "We've gotta git, man. There's trouble in paradise."

McBundy reluctantly stood up, knowing that whatever nonsense Deadeye had in mind was going to get done, no matter what protest he registered. They exited the barn and their property, heading slowly east toward the insistent bell. Deadeye nervously scanned the area, but was unable to see anyone dumb enough to be out in the storm, but knew from experience that the enemy was sneaky and could very well be hiding under a rock, waiting for the right moment to attack.

He heard gunshots. Actually it was the Rulestones on their front porch throwing firecrackers. Deadeye dismounted and proceeded on foot to present a lower target. He heard another shot and saw something moving fast. He fired in its direction and split in two the brown rabbit who hated the white one. Neither Mary Jane or Leo would never again have to re-stand her white rabbit lawn ornament.

Mr. Rulestone considered the brown rabbit his beloved friend. He yelled; "You must be some kind of a dangerous nut. You killed my pet. I'll fix you." He went inside and retrieved his hunting rifle, came out and took a shot in Deadeye's direction, intending to scare him away. It was the mistake of a mistake-full lifetime, witness Mrs. Rulestone, as from his crouching position, Deadeye, who didn't earn that name because of his facial features, shot, hitting Mr. Rulestone's left eye. Mr. Rulestone reeled slowly back and down, like when he listened to Mrs. Rulestone's complaints and saw her wrinkled up, smelling-something-foul face. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and thought that her husband was making his well-worn reaction. She started waving her arms around, yelling; "I didn't even say anything. I ought to take that rifle and ......," which proved to be her last words as Deadeye thought it possible she was going to shoot at him and plugged her first; right above her wrinkled nose.

Deadeye thought he was doing rather well, but rather than resting on his laurels, he decided to find out if the enemies were dead and if there were any others hiding in the house. He crawled on his belly up to the house. They were dead all right. He opened the door and slid in carefully, looking for more Viet Cong. He heard sirens outside and looked through the window to see four police cars screech to a halt in front of the house, cherries revolving and cops crouched behind each vee-hickle. Deadeye knew that those treacherous, sneaky VC's were pulling another trick and took position on the window's left side. Protected by eighteen inch adobe and in a location to fire he was set for the final showdown.

A cop on a bullhorn crackled; "Throw the weapon outside and come out with your hands in the air."

"Come and get me VC commie."

After a few similar interchanges the cops decided that their approach had to change as they wanted to get to the bodies lying on the porch, thinking it possible that they might still be alive. Under cover of fire one cop circled the house, got to its side, broke a window and threw in a gas canister. Accustomed to this procedure in his Viet Nam heyday, Deadeye got towels from the bathroom, picked up the canister in them and threw it back out. He fired at the police cars and the officers crouching behind them. He yelled; "Is that your best shot? Support is on the way."

The cops looked at each other, hoping someone had a bright idea. Nervous headshakes were all that was seen as these guys were Corrales cops, more accustomed to giving out traffic tickets, their most dangerous work answering domestic violence reports.

Joining the rest of the neighborhood Polly and her parents went to their eastern windows to see what was going on. They didn't have the advantage of many of their fellow residents who had benches at their favorite viewing spots, so they got "standing room only" accommodations. They had no idea what had happened and merely saw the police cars in front of the Rulestone residence, with the cops crouching behind.

Dad chuckled and said; "He must have finally blasted her one."

Mom said; "Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"

Polly was of a more practical nature and said; "Glad we're not out now."

Prince refrained from commentary and focused on the pleasing visuals; the spinning red cherry tops and the rain on the windows provided a kaleidoscope of flashing colors, constantly changing.

The bullhorn cop droned; "Don't make it hard on yourself. Come on out."

Deadeye thought that was one of the dumbest things he had ever heard, considered not dignifying it with a reply, but finally said; "War is hell."

One cop said; "Oh boy, we've got a live one here."

Bullhorn said; "What is it you want?"

Deadeye drew a blank.

Bullhorn said; "Come on. One more chance. Throw your gun out."

"You throw yours." The liquor he had consumed was now making him feel very tired. He hoped his backup would get there soon, so he went to the Rulestone computer and texted a message to Unit #2 from Unit #1 saying; "Hurry. Can't hold out much longer. Need backup. VC all over Camino De Lucia." He took two steps back toward his window perch and passed out.

Seven Unit #2's got the message and two of them thought that it sounded like something interesting was going on and decided to drive there.

Bullhorn tried a bluff and bellowed; "If you don't come out right now, we'll launch an incendiary grenade and burn you out." He got no response from within. Deadeye had a smile on his face dreaming of some Viet Namese girls he knew when there in his glory days.

Bullhorn yelled; "Okay, we're getting the grenade ready."

No response.

"You're lucky we're having trouble with it. Gives you another chance. What is it you want?"

No response.

One of the cops said; "We're going to have to charge the place. Those bodies have been sitting there too long."

Another cop said; "You charge the place. I'll stay here and give you cover fire."

An old beat-up green Chevy approached. The cops tried to wave it away, but refused to get out of their crouching position. The driver, 64 year old Viet Nam veteran, Hal Chase paid no attention and parked next to them. He got out, stood erect and asked; "What's going on here?"

One cop tried to pull him down. He was unsuccessful as Hal was a big guy and the cop didn't want to be in the line of fire very long. Three cops tackled him and pulled him behind one of their cars. Sprawled on his back Hal virtually repeated himself, saying; "Now, will somebody tell me what's going on."

Having nothing he'd rather be doing at the moment than talking one cop said; "Guy in there with PTSD shot two people. Bodies are on the porch. He thinks we're the Viet Cong attacking him. Won't come out."

Hal said; "Deadeye?"

"I don't know, but he's a pretty good shot. Real name is Gregory Saunders. Lives a few houses away."

"Deadeye." Hal had known him for decades, as much as one can know someone brain damaged. He knew that he was out of it, but never thought it would come to this.

Two more cars barreled onto the scene, despite being waved off. They parked and the drivers exited. One said; "Somebody call for backup?"

No cop knew what to say as each thought it possible that the off-site chief may have called and besides, they needed all the help they could get. One cop pulled the two newcomers down into the trenches and they all started to babble what they knew at them, hoping the fresh arrivals had some kind of answer.

Hal saw that nobody was any longer paying any attention to him and decided to try to help out his old buddy. He knew that no matter how demented he felt today that Deadeye would recognize him as an ally; most likely. He got up and walked directly to the house waving his arms in the air and saying over and over; "Deadeye. Its Hal come to help out."

The cops thought that they now might be dealing with two nuts and one offered to shoot Hal before he could get cover, but was stopped by the Bullhorn in charge, who said; "It'll look really bad if we shoot someone in the back who hasn't yet committed a crime." The others grudgingly nodded their heads "Right," but under the circumstances had their doubts. They watched intently as Hal approached wondering what would happen next.

Hal got to the porch and saw the two bodies, checked for a pulse and found none. He opened the creaking front door slowly and the noise stirred Deadeye, who though partially dazed knew enough to grab his rifle and position himself to the side of a door. He heard; "Deadeye. Its Hal come to help out."

Deadeye saw the hulk of a man coming his way and wondered if this wasn't some other kind of VC trick, but was somewhat relieved to see the talking man was not armed, at least not noticeably.

"Deadeye. Its Hal come to help out."

"Stand where you are. How can I know it's really you?"

Hal stood still, threw out his hands to each side and disgustedly said; "You called me, idiot. You requested backup. Well, here it is."

Deadeye dropped the rifle, went to Hal and gave him a big hug. He said; "Oh yeah, man. Thanks. I killed two VC and there are a bunch more in front disguised as cops."

"Got it taken care of already. Snuck up behind them and sent them all back to the rice paddies."

Deadeye brightly looked through the window and saw that the cops were still there and said so.

Hal said; "No, no. The bodies of the fake cops have been taken away. What you see is the real Corrales cops waiting there to give you a medal and a little parade."

"Aren't you going to get one too?"

Hal hadn't considered that previously as he was winging the whole operation, but he came up with; "Sure, sure. Me and you together." He gave Deadeye another brisk hug and let go, suddenly feeling bad that this would be the end for someone whose life got ruined because he fought for his country when so many others never did, but made the decisions. He remembered the innocent eighteen year old he met 44 years ago as well as others who never came back at all. He remembered how Deadeye covered for him, running out into the open, blazing away, when a VC sniper had the drop on him. A tear came to his eye, but he stifled it, realizing that there was nothing to be done now as two people were dead. Hal said; "Listen. You stay here. I have to go tell those cops that you'll be coming out with me and that you know they are really cops. The way you shoot they don't want to get any part of their bodies out from behind their cars."

Deadeye was complimented and silently nodded somewhat effacingly as Hal walked out the front door. Hal walked to the crouching cops and entourage and said; "I can get him out peacefully. The two people on the porch are definitely dead."

Bullhorn breathed a loud sigh of relief, but caught himself when he considered the Rulestone fate and answered; "Oh, no. Okay, get him."

"But no handcuffs."

"That's not proper police procedure."

"Look where your proper police procedure has gotten you."

Silence.

"I've convinced him that you're here to give him a mini-parade and a medal. He'll be unarmed and I'll sit with him in the back of the car."

Bullhorn was outraged and loudly said; "A medal for killing two people. Forget that!" General agreeing grumbles came from the rank and file.

Hal angrily said; "He killed more in Nam. How many of you have seen combat overseas?"

Heads surveyed the ground puddles.

"I thought as much. You have no idea what it's like. He's coming out the way I said or I'll go back in there and join his campaign."

Bullhorn saw pragmatism and said; "Fine, but no guns."

Hal nodded and went back to the house where he found Deadeye on the computer sending an e-mail to someone which said; "Hal thought he fooled me with the medal stuff, but I know the score. Sometimes I just get crazy. It's better for everyone this way."

Hal said; "War's over, buddy. Time to go home."

Deadeye clicked on the "send" box and solemnly nodded to his pal, then walked out of the house with him. As he passed the Rulestone bodies, he turned his head up to the pouring dark sky and opened his mouth with an agonized, questioning face, but no words came out.

Seeing no arms the cops stood and watched the procession, glad they were out of danger, glad that the perpetrator was apprehended, sorry for the Rulestones, oddly grateful to men like Deadeye for their own freedom and remorseful for them at the same time.

Hal and Deadeye were escorted to the back seat of Bullhorn's car and as they drove through the development saw the people viewing from their windows. One of them tried to imagine that this was the long overdue, respectful viewing of an ancient forgotten hero.

Eventually Deadeye's lawyer worked out a deal whereby Deadeye would spend the rest of his life in a high security psychiatric facility, which he would come to consider as little change from his previous surroundings. Hal came back to Camino De Lucia to get McBundy and kept him with his other two horses. The White Rabbit lawn ornament stood undisturbed at attention.
Chapter 17

It was the best of summer days. Toward the end of July the "monsoon" season hit New Mexico, during which one quarter to one half of the entire year's average, eight inches of precipitation falls in a two week period, though often drenching Albuquerque and doing little or nothing in Corrales. The threatening gray clouds rumble much of the time, but they are big talk and no action. After the first few days of inactivity people pay no attention to the boom-diddy-boom-diddy-thpfff and go about their daily business with perennially verbose, shaded skies. But today, Polly woke to a reborn sun, timidly making its way over the Sangre De Cristos and touching her eastern window. It seemed to peek through the jagged, uneven summits in an effort to survey the day's hindrances. All that it could see ahead of it was pastel blue and the old traveler was ready to warm up the place, which had been recently cooled and doused by the sky's throne pretenders. Prince was already at the window looking up at what he thought may never return, {He's a dog, he doesn't know. At least he wasn't sure.} when Polly snuck up behind him in awe of what she had forgotten. {She's a human with a typically short memory.} The jubilant vacationer leaped over the last remaining boulders in its path, took on a slightly red hue, lit up the valley and seemed to be enthused to have again been given the opportunity to do what it was made for. The forlorn bushes, leaves and even the groundcovers turned to greet their old friend, wanting to say; "We've been waiting. Where have you been? This isn't the time of year to spend in St. Tropez!"

Polly ran downstairs with Prince at her heels. She got his food ready and led him by dish into the backyard where he showed more interest in rolling on his back in the warming grass. Polly wanted to rush back in to quickly have coffee and heat up her frozen breakfast of a "Microwavable Big Mama Sugarbush' Bacon, Ham and Eggs," but Prince gave her a sideways glance as he reclined on the emerald bed. She knew that this was a plea for belly rubs and she obliged him furiously before again discovering that the seemingly lifeless microwave was indeed capable of something other than displaying its un-moving presence.

Finishing her nourishment in the otherwise empty-of-humans kitchen, she ran back upstairs and put on her dirtiest clothes; a predominately white (when washed) Rolling Stones T-shirt and cut off blue jeans, she the operator of the crooked scissors weeks prior. She leaped back down the stairs, taking three at a time with the aid of the sturdy bannister and got back to Prince.

She attached his super-long chain to his blue collar and they were off; through the strange triangular room and garage, down the driveway and onto the heated asphalt of Camino De Lucia. Prince chose to run on the grass and Polly surprised him as she was able to keep up, her sneakers protecting her from the road's roasting ability, while affording her superior traction. Polly had to make a quick move as Prince passed the Rulestone "For Sale" sign on the grass and she nimbly scooted behind him after getting a brief glance at the placard hung from a wooden post and partial rail, reminiscent of an old, "Wild West" days, vigilante hanging apparatus, which now said something about the historical nature of the infamous, over-priced property.

The abundance of puddles made Prince slower than usual, as he wanted to savor every one. He splashed through them in an effort to get coolness on a body that already felt the strength of a well-rested sun. He was able to add brown spots to his black and to Polly's exposed legs. He thought; "I need deeper water," and again picked up speed. The right-of–way to the Bosque was now covered with tall grass as the residents of Camino De Lucia were either too old or too reserved to venture into the "wild," one-quarter to one-half mile from their haciendas. Prince found it with ease by following the coyote scent. Soon the houses faded from view and all they could see was the cottonwood forest ahead. Complete relaxation took over as the brown-spotted duo tasted nature at its peak; well watered and very warm; sultry.

Prince went right into the muddy ditch and was surprised to see that Polly followed him right in. It was at a low and she was only knee-deep as she walked behind the half swimming, half wading, cool puppy. Neither had ever put a high priority on cleanliness when together, but Polly often wondered why Prince relished drinking the stuff. Maybe it was the doggy equivalent of coffee and she thought that she might ask him someday, but not today.

Having company, Prince was in no hurry to leave, filling some of the time with sniffing investigations of the beaver holes just above water level. Polly prayed that one wouldn't decide to pop out as she thought; "If they can gouge out a tree trunk, imagine what they can do to his face," but the beavers patiently waited until the coast was clear before they put their heads out to see who had come calling.

Prince pulled Polly back into the bright sun, almost a necessity on the steep banks. Without second thought he crossed the rusting iron bridge, now shaky and not conducive to being treated as a trampoline. Polly asked; "When are they going to replace it? How many have to be hurt before they do?" Prince didn't understand her words, but could easily glean the bridge's condition and knew that when it became a hazard he could use the ditch itself to cross now that he knew Polly was not averse to wading. He went around the useless perennially closed gate, which now displayed a sign advising people that; "This is the home of coyotes. They can be dangerous. If one is encountered, do not run. Back away slowly." One neighbor who grew up in the area had advised Polly that under no circumstances do coyotes want to meet humans as Corrales is close to areas where they are shot on sight. However, she also said that if they are desperately hungry they will attempt to lure a dog, even Prince's size, away by sending out one. If Prince were to go over to the lure more will appear, kill and eat him. She said that if he were kept on a leash, this could not happen. Up until now Polly and Prince had no trouble with coyotes and she hoped that they didn't read the sign.

Again thirsty, Prince went right into the window-like "clear ditch," appropriately named for its lucidity and lack of grime, as a result of its filtered feeding from the Rio Grande. Fish scooted upon sensing the huge intruder; Polly sat on the bed until all the mud was washed away by the flow, and then stood, giving Prince access to the deepest spot. Two very clean, very wet and very cool wanderers climbed the graduated bank, crossed the sturdy land bridge and slowly mounted the levee, Prince sniffing about to determine who was or is a recent visitor. They stood at the top and leisurely took in the view; the rocky Sangre De Cristos doing better than anyone else at piercing the sky across the river; the river, itself, flowing smoothly and quietly, and at the duo's 200 foot distance, looking as pure as the clear ditch; the cottonwoods with their 100 foot height and spread, looking very refreshed, with their densely packed, triangular, spade shaped, green and shiny leaves turned to the climbing sun providing great shady areas if desired; and the abundance of two foot shrubs, too numerous and complex to delineate, with flowers of red, purple, gold, orange, pink, lavender, yellow and even blue decorating everywhere, some appearing as though they had come from another planet, in a rainbow of visual and aromatic, multi-dimensional delight.

Prince and Polly lost track of time, as they stood motionless and quiet, observing one thing, then another, then another, on and on until they were back where they started and desirous of taking another go around, which they did and did and did. Polly murmured; "This can go on forever," which Prince misinterpreted as meaning something like; "Ready to get moving?" and he was happy to oblige.

They descended the levee and entered Corrales' garden, known to the few, but spoken of by the many. Prince took the most direct path to the river, as he had been in the direct sun at the levee crest long enough to have completely dried out. He also was curious to see if the Rio Grande's clear and blue, flowing appearance he thought he saw from the distance, which seemed to duplicate the color of today's, normally erratic, sky, was a reality, a mere reflection or an illusion.

They reached the edge and watched the rippling water make its timeless way. The river was lower than recently and this resulted in no banks washed away; no mud, no coffee and no dirt; just clear blue. Prince made the leap and Polly followed, both feeling the tugging rush; Prince up to his neck and Polly up to her waist. Nature's bathing resource lapped away whatever remained of their mud residue. Polly bent down and immersed herself to the neck to give her Rolling Stones T-shirt the same treatment as her cut-off jeans. They moved downriver, then back up, over and over, again losing track of time. Clocks were the furthest things from their minds while they played in the cool water, splashing each other.

Prince noticed that the sun was almost directly overhead and he wanted to see many other areas before the day ended, so he pulled Polly out of the Rio Grande and headed southeast on the river path, sun still in his eyes. The wildflowers lining the path made Prince stop frequently, as he had to investigate those particularly exotic fragrances, content to be cursory and bring the scent back to Polly, who didn't notice the perfumes so vivid to him and seldom broke stride.

Where the path forked he chose to leave the river as it had been well-used already and went inland to the cottonwood forest. The off and on shade provided by the peaceful giants cooled them and they were now well away from the worn path. They slowly made their way through the ground, which was hidden in the tall grass, wildflowers and tiny bushes. It was a relaxing easy trip for Prince, though Polly had an occasional, minor stumble in the secreted dead sticks. Prince was surprised whenever the chain got taut and looked back at Polly to see what was keeping her, hoping that she had found a particularly great wildflower for him. She laughed each time and said; "This must be my clumsy day."

As the rustling leaves drew her attention, she recalled that this was the domain of the umbrella woman and she wondered if they were under surveillance. Though she now felt comfortable with the coyote lover, she still had an innate aversion to being watched and scrutinized. She had heard the stupid insectile justification that; "You shouldn't mind unless you're doing something wrong," and found that objectionably judgmental, as the pest decides what's right and wrong for the two of them. She did her best to concentrate on Prince and the surroundings. She said; "This is going to be a perfect day no matter what creep is compelled to try to be part of it." Prince didn't take her meaning, as he didn't care what the creeps' problems were and he didn't think that it would be of any concern to Polly "way out here."

Not wanting to scrape her bare legs in a fall Polly had an easy time forgetting about intruders as she watched only what was right in front of her; Prince and tons of uncut grass. She picked up the heady aroma and wondered if this was what Prince had been trying to bring to her attention or if his senses carried him even more.

Dodging the irregularly placed trees, they walked a winding course and as they just began to feel as if they were cooling down to a "normal" level, Prince exited the woods and entered a sandy area populated only by small plants. They again felt the persistent sun, this time to their backs. It cast compressed and tiny, ten o'clock shadows in front of them and reflected off the sand itself to give the appearance that a yellow aura was emanating from the ground, giving everything a surreal touch.

Polly whispered; "Far out."

Prince thought; "Far out," and took a seat on the warm sand to admire the visual display. Polly joined him and for the first time they sat outside together without their having had an issue. The brushy plants took on the appearance of something not of this world, but a place more fantastic. Off and away their plain brown stems lost their drab nature by donning the clothing of light and now appeared to be of misty golden hue. Their tiny flowers flickered the red, purple and yellow colors as if they were in a 1910, hand-cranked movie. The ones closest had not yet opted for the wardrobe enhancement, perhaps because they felt watched. Prince and Polly's eyes got heavier and heavier. They reclined on their sides and fell asleep.

Prince woke first and saw that the sun was in its mid-afternoon place. He licked Polly's face to wake her, thinking; "Come on. It's getting late and we still haven't seen everything."

She stretched out and took one more, long look at the magical bushes. Prince started moving and Polly held him back, still fascinated with the plays of light. Prince tugged at the leash and Polly said; "All right. All right. A few seconds doesn't matter. Jeez."

She followed him back toward the river to a wide strip of land further from the levee. If they didn't know any better they might have believed that they were in the middle of a national forest, with a changing mixture of woods and grassy fields. It didn't look overly familiar to either of them, especially since Prince showed his disdain for the ordinary path, making his own.

Polly wondered if they were in the general vicinity before, but on a different Prince trail. He had other thoughts; about being thirsty and taking a turn toward the scent of seaweed.

Moving quickly with Polly having to duck under low branches they reached the river. Here it was three feet below land level. The only way to go was to jump right in not knowing what was beneath them. It was adequately clear to see there were no hazards like discarded shopping carts, but Prince could not gauge the depth and he didn't like getting in over his head.

Prince stopped at the edge and mulled things over. He thought; "Worst case the water will be deep, but I really need a drink. Polly will stay on shore and be able to pull me out."

He dove in and as he shook the water from his face and eyes, he was surprised to see that he had Polly's company. Both had feet on the bed and were safe, but Prince gave her a chastising look and thought; "This could have been a disaster. For once in your life would you please be rational!"

Polly didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but guessed the general direction. She bent down and used her left hand to splash water on him, saying; "Pthfff."

His thirst quenched and again ready to roam, Prince went up the bank in two leaps and turned around to pull Polly up. She wouldn't move and pointed out into the river.

Prince didn't understand, but thought; "Uh oh," and tried another tug.

Polly made another point.

Tug.

Point.

Prince finally looked in the direction of her finger and saw the island about 70 feet away. He looked at her, knee deep in the river, and tried to convey with his eyes; "You have got to be kidding. All the way out there?"

Polly said; "I've always wanted to go out to one of the islands and be completely alone with you. Today is our lucky day. Let's do it!" She took a step toward the island and gave him a tug.

His eyes widened and pointed at the island. He shook his head; "No."

Tug.

Point and shake.

Tug.

Prince was scared and tried to do some serious thinking. "What can happen? The river will remain as shallow as it is near shore and everything will be all right. If we hit a deep spot we can turn back. As long as only one is in the deep stuff the other can pull them out. I'll stay a little behind her and if she goes under I'll pull her back toward shore. ......." Tug. Tug. "All right! All right! There's probably something I haven't yet considered, but I've gotten the main idea; stay a bit back."

Tug. Tug. "All right! All right! Here I come." Prince jumped back in, his splash covering Polly with water. She didn't care and was just happy to see that he had joined her. She patted his head and said; "Thanks. I love you, Prince." His momentary look conveyed more worry than anything else, but he was also determined to see this thing through as well as he could.

She took a step toward the island and his eyes intrepidly scouted the area for potential problems. His wrinkled brow and overall demeanor would have been admired by Maxwell Smart. He brightly deduced that water was ahead. It was flowing a little more forcefully than he had expected and that he and Polly were in it.

The current consistently eased them to the south, but they started with a good margin for error and were still well on course to meet the island. Prince's worst fears did not come true as the deepest water level they encountered was up to Polly's belly and while this made Prince a bit uneasy, necessitating a doggy paddle while drifting away, he soon saw that she was able to keep him with her by slogging through the muddy bottom and diligently holding his chain.

They reached the island and Prince anxiously jumped onto shore, navigating the 30 inch vertical bank with two smaller leaps. Though she had difficulty, he pulled Polly up, she having to crawl on her stomach the last step. The island showed no signs of recently having been visited by anything other than birds as there was absolutely no trail through the densely packed trees and lots of lively undergrowth. Prince was at his best as he easily maneuvered between the largest obstacles and Polly reverted to her useless cries of; "Slow, slow." Prince did slow down, but not out of choice. Polly was forced to hold him back as the going was extremely slow for her, tripping on plants which covered the entirety of the grounds.

It seemed later in the day than it actually was as the tree canopies blocked all overhead sunlight, giving the place somewhat of a macabre feel. Polly tried to joke and said; "Zis eez zee home of zee undead. I veel have to splash zem vit my holy vater. I'll spit."

Prince knew nothing more of the undead or zombies other than those he had met on Camino De Lucia and his instincts told him that they weren't here.

They plodded and plodded, sweating in the summer heat and both became aware of the countless bugs that seemed to be attracted to moist bodies. She hoped they weren't malaria carrying tsetse flies. Polly began to wonder if the trip was worth the effort, but soon knew that it was when the trees and brush ended. They came to a tiny beach. It was perfect. The bugs didn't like the direct sunlight, walking was again easy and the trees bordered back and two sides. They could only be seen by fish in the river and the birds who cavorted on the Indian land on the opposite shore.

Prince investigated the shore line and then pulled Polly back toward the trees, where he saw a two foot turtle basking in the sun. Polly saw it before he could get to it and held him back as she didn't want him to hurt it and she didn't want it to hurt him, as it could be a snapper. It wasn't moving and she saw no head, legs or tail. She knew that Prince would keep after it, so, with difficulty she managed to hold him just shy of the turtle, extended her foot and gave it a little nudge. It still didn't move. She pushed it a few inches with the same result. Prince pulled as hard as he could and got to it. Polly cried; "Oh, no," but was quickly relieved when Prince flipped the turtle onto its back and she saw that it was only a shell.

He bit at it as he would a bone, but the shell was so hard that he made almost no headway. Challenged, he sat and continued his efforts. Polly sat next to him. Both were in direct sunlight, on the warm sand and she contentedly alternated her gaze between watching him nibble, the river and the bird land right ahead. The only sounds she heard were the water rushing over the rocks, calling birds and Prince panting as he found his chosen work much more difficult than he expected. She thought; "Finally, pure nature. I'll call this place Turtle Island." Time went out on strike.

Prince thought; "I can nibble on this forever and there will still be a lot left." He kept at it until his jaws were tired and he got up to leave.

Polly rose and took three steps, but when she saw that Prince was trying to bring the shell with him, she took it from his mouth and threw it back where it was. He attempted to get it again, but she held him fast, saying; "I want you to have a strong incentive to come back here."

They went back toward the mainland refreshed. They may have used the same path on which they came, but it was impossible for them to tell. They passed through the woods and simultaneously jumped into the river as Polly yelled; "Ooooooo," feeling the cool of the water envelop her. Prince looked at her strangely and then the two proceeded back to shore, he jumping up first and then pulling her up with him.

Prince followed a bent grass, coyote path alongside the river, again refreshed and anxious to further their exploration. After walking for five minutes, circling around a few thorned Russian Olives at the river's edge, he came to the end of the grassy path and saw a sandy beach ahead of him. The area seemed to jut out into the water and may have recently been part of the river bed as the only vegetation was infrequent, small clumps of thin grassy plants. Huge old logs sat here and there, their weathered appearance the result of being under water for God knows how long, now being dried out in the persistent stream of sunlight.

Prince wanted a closer look at the new land. The only problem was that it was three feet below the land they were on. He knew he'd have no trouble getting down, but worried about Polly. He went down slowly and was not held back. On the sand, he turned back to Polly, who was still on top. She felt adventurous and smiled. She sat on the edge and glided down as easily as if she were on a sliding pond.

Prince took her to the river's edge, prancing in and out of the miniscule tides that kept coming and going. She knew that she was as far from the levee as she had ever been as she could easily see the Native American land across the river and could reach the area with two rock tosses. As Prince was slowly enjoying the tides she stared across the river to see if there was any activity in the forested area. She kept looking as they splashed through the shallow water until she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

Polly came to a quick halt when she spotted a black umbrella dead ahead and moving rapidly in their direction. She said; "Uh, oh," which Prince had come to understand meant trouble. He made a low grumble, his body went taut and he scanned the area.

The coyote woman (CW) felt that she no longer needed her protection and closed the umbrella, smiling as she approached. Polly timidly offered; "Hi," making no assumptions and ready for surprises. Prince relaxed when he recognized an old friend and wagged his tail making a discernible drumbeat on Polly's left leg.

CW was enthusiastic and said; "Hi, yourself," as she reached down to pet a happy Prince. She asked; "Is he being a good boy today?"

Not sure to whom the query was made, Polly volunteered the answer for the hushed puppy, whose tail was now threatening to launch his body skyward, saying; "Most definitely. He's always a good boy ...... Well, most of the time."

CW's eyes were beaming at Prince when she said; "Is he ready?"

Polly still wasn't sure if CW was making baby talk to Prince, but was compelled to clarify what seemed to be a very open ended question. With a hint of trepidation she asked; "Ready for what?"

CW said; "He's ready. I can tell." She put two fingers in the corners of her mouth and blew out air. Polly heard nothing, but Prince's head zoomed up looking for the source of the noise.

Finding nothing in the heavens, his gaze lowered to a disturbance in the organic debris under the cottonwoods, fifty feet away. He saw seven shy, cautious and skinny coyotes slowly emerge from their sanctuary, not making direct eye contact.

CW called; "Come on out, you big babies. Look who's here."

Polly tensed and prayed that Prince wouldn't go into attack mode.

The seven kept coming, now making furtive glances and proceeded toward Prince in a slightly circuitous pattern. Prince recognized them and made a sound something like a high pitched "Arooo," while his tail did gymnastics worthy of an Olympian on the high bar.

The seven coyotes approached a delirious Prince one by one, sniffing and licking his face. Prince returned the compliment to each as the humans cheerfully watched. Polly removed his chain. Prince was surprised and felt naked, but more importantly he remembered his bad performance during his last encounter with them and how sorry he was that he made a jerk of himself. He was grateful for the unexpected second chance and vowed not to mess it up. Friends are hard to come by.

Prince also felt a bit silly as he honestly thought that dispensing of the big, white, malamute mix was an extremely easy task and also one which no one could avoid. He tried to stop thinking and just enjoy the closeness.

CW said; "They're making him an honorary coyote," as the group of seven all somehow managed to be no more than a foot from Prince, rubbing their bodies up against him as they slowly and continually moved.

Polly and CW's eyes radiated as they watched Prince joyfully move his head around, wanting to touch and thank them all. For the first time Polly wished that she had a cell phone with a good camera.

CW let out another whistle which shattered the ears of the nearby canines. She said; "Sorry," as they stopped their activities, looked at her and shook their heads as if they had just taken a dip. Out of the woodland came eight female coyotes with many pups in tow. They walked over at puppy pace, the little ones moving like tiny bears, as they had not yet attained full use of their legs. The females rubbed up against Prince a bit differently, lingering to make sure that he got their scent and they his. One made prolonged, inquisitive eye contact. Prince thought that she might be saying; "I like you," and he tried to convey the same message. CW said; "That's Esmeralda."

The excited pups were not to be denied and soon they had gotten all the adults out of the way and jumped around their weird looking friend. They had not yet seen a white coyote with black spots. They had trouble rubbing against him as they couldn't reach above his legs, so Prince sat down on the warm sand, rolled onto his back and the puppies climbed all over him. He gazed at Polly in disbelief, his tongue happily hanging out when there were no newborns investigating his snout.

Polly said; "I wish every day could be like this," and Prince had the same thought.
Chapter 18

A few weeks and ten Turtle Island escapes later, Polly woke up early. The special day was August eighth, her eleventh birthday and she was anxious to see what new playthings waited for her. After a night of little sleep, she saw that her clock had its little hand on the five and its big hand on the six. She turned on the light, jumped out of bed and felt a cool gust come through her bedroom window. Undeterred, she covered her white, Caspar the Friendly Ghost pajamas with a light blue robe and went downstairs. Prince opened one tired eye and decided he wanted no part of this nonsense. He grumbled and squirmed around trying to bury his body in the warm bed.

She flicked on the kitchen lights and in the middle of the table she saw a small, pink, giftwrapped package bearing a tiny card, which bore the cliché; "To: Polly, From: Mom and Dad." "They put a lot of thought into this one," she mused. "Hope it's good." She ripped it open, carelessly leaving the paper on the floor and saw a DVD and an accompanying book titled; "BEING POPULAR: A Guide for Young Women," by Sappora Middler, an Israeli émigré.

She was disappointed to the point of anger, but then stepped back thinking; "They are joking with me. They probably have a camera going in here to see my reaction." She scanned the room, didn't see anything, but also knew that surveillance devices can be virtually undetectable. She opened drawers and cabinets to see where the real presents were hidden, finding nothing, but at the same time feeling watched and she freaked out.

Her mind was no longer able to focus on any one thing. "Bad present. Where's good ones? Enjoying my demise. Funny as a dead cat. Lack of interest. Too much interest. Surveillance. Cameras. 1984 + 28. No privacy even in your own house." These thoughts quickly whirled in her head in no particular order.

She kept slamming drawers and cabinets, pulling out anything in the way of a complete view. The floor collected old paid bills, self-addressed envelopes to Enron Corporation, three cent shy postage stamps, a poster of Ronald Reagan grinning like Alfred E. Neuman with a bubble containing the words; "What me worry?" and various other pathetically archaic items.

Mom woke early, hearing the noise, which reminded her of the day when her cat got locked in the pantry eons ago and followed her ears. She stood at the kitchen entrance and watched what she thought was Polly frantically looking for something. Mom got nervous when her next thought was that looking for a fire extinguisher was the only thing worthy of such methedrinistic speed.

Concerned, Mom yelled; "What's wrong?"

Polly kept on working and with her back to Mom answered; "I'm looking for my real presents."

Mom was glad nothing was physically on fire, but her fears about the DVD were confirmed. She hadn't thought that it would be one of Polly's favorite birthday presents, but she also didn't expect it to be so hated. Mom walked over and took her inconsolable child by the hands, primarily for damage control. She said; "We got the Middler DVD, hoping you'd at least listen to it and maybe come up with some techniques for handling some situations better."

"Like what?"

"Like ...... Like ...... Like, getting along with the neighbors better."

Polly defiantly cocked her head to one side and said; "Like you?"

"You don't have to do something wrong just because I do."

"Then you've been wrong?"

Mom realized that she had misspoken and tried to precisely convey her thoughts, saying; "Wrong word. My tactics could be better."

"Then you listen to the stupid DVD. I'd have preferred a slant eyed kachina from Nunzio's."

Dad entered and found the whole thing somewhat amusing as the DVD was Mom's choice. His serious countenance was betrayed when he picked up the book and said; "This book is for young women. Mom hasn't been allowed to touch it for years." He didn't get any laughs, but seemed to have succeeded at changing the tone away from the two women being openly angry with each other to one wherein the two women were mildly displeased with him, which was evidenced by Mom's attempted open handed slap at his head. He blocked it easily and thought that he'd push his luck. He wagged an index finger at Mom, shook his head mock-knowingly and said; "I told you that there was something special about those slant eyed kachinas."

The sun made its paltry existence known subtly as a 40 watt bulb in a closed black shade, as the sky was lined with wall-to-wall bulbous dark clouds. Mom felt a gust and closed the kitchen window.

It was near rising time anyway and Prince wanted to see what was going on. He crept down the stairs, entered the kitchen and saw the debris on the floor. His senses told him that the three irrational humans in his presence were on three different wavelengths and none of them liked what was on the other two channels. He was glad to see that there was a lull in the open warfare and sat on his haunches like a UN observer.

Having had time to collect her thoughts, Polly screamed; "This is no birthday. This is an educational seminar for nice, conforming girls. Charm school."

Prince wondered if he wanted to experience the foul weather inside or out. That took about a second. He went to the back door and Dad let him out under the obscuring, but mercifully silent clouds.

Having received no response to her last observation, she decided to make another. She calmly said; "For future reference, I am not interested in being Ms. Popularity, a cheerleader, pom-pom girl or a baton twirler." She retrieved a can of dog food and emptied it into Prince's dish.

Mom looked to Dad and deadpanned; "You better give your present to Prince and try to convince him that it's a bone."

Polly rushed upstairs and changed into her Bosque clothes. She went back down into the kitchen, grabbed the dish and with determination that masked a pleading desire to be free and away, went to the back door without making eye contact with anyone.

Dad called to her; "Be patient. We got something else a lot more interesting for you. It was supposed to arrive at the store yesterday, but because of a computer glitch something else was sent."

Polly said; "Sure," and slammed the door behind her.

Mom said; "What's this?"

Dad said; "I'll think of something. I'll call in sick and do some shopping. You know, that book and DVD wasn't a very good idea."

"I wish you were more adamant about it before. Your 20-20 hindsight makes you suited to work at a bank."

Dad was silent and very insulted. He had always been somewhat embarrassed to say that he worked at a bank and at times considered telling people that he was in the music industry, but thought that the "fact finders" would do their thing. More importantly, he didn't understand what he should do with two willful women. He thought; "They want to be free to make their own choices, which is fine with me, but whenever they make a wrong one I get blamed for not having made the right one." He had forgotten that it was he who had brought up the issue thereby prompting the response.

Mom decided that today wasn't going to be a work day for her either. She poured herself a glass of wine and took it back to bed. She felt sufficiently out of sorts to dial her mother.

Dad emptied the bottle into his own glass and sat at the kitchen table, staring out the closed window at the threatening clouds, creeping with a slow confidence across the low sky. He soon found this occupation entirely derivative, the sky striking him through the obstructing, closed glass as a television playing a century old, not very good, silent movie. He got up and turned on the static diseased, 1950's, blue, plastic radio by clicking one of the oversized cobalt nobs.

Mom had two feet on the floor, butt squirming to get off the bed as she listened to her mother recite how girls, who were real girls, knew their place when she was young; before America paid any attention to the green college kids, who thought everything was wrong. "A man worked and the woman took care of the kids. People were happy to be moving into the nice new suburbs ...... "

"Sorry to cut you like that, but I've got to get ready for work."

"See what I mean? There's no more family. Years ago ......"

"I've really got to go."

"Is everything all right?"

"Sure, and you?"

"Sure, how's my grandchild?"

"Fine, mom. I've got to say goodbye."

"When am I going to see her again?"

"Soon, soon. Bye."

"Bye."

Mom downed the last of her wine and went back to the kitchen for a refill. She heard the retro music station playing the fifty-eighth available version of Led Zeppelin singing "Stairway to Heaven." Just as Dad smiled and her head commenced humming, the music stopped and after a crackling pause a rabid male announcer said; "There has been a gigantic explosion in a Japanese nuclear power plant; the largest ever recorded. The US west coast has been advised that there possibly will be massive tidal waves in the Pacific Ocean."

Mom opened a new bottle, refilled her glass and held the bottle toward Dad, who nodded "Yes" and drained the remainder of what he had. She replenished him and took a seat at the table. The intense announcer continued; "Though Hezbollah gleefully claims credit, joint intelligence says they are not considered capable and are merely attempting to enhance their world position, unless the technology was recently supplied to them by a bankrupt super power. America directly blames Russia and vice-versa. Each holds the other responsible even if it is determined that Hezbollah scientists developed the technology as the intelligence says that they could only have gotten the gotten as far as they possibly have if they had assistance from one of the two powers or both. America and Russia vehemently deny any responsibility, each citing expected damages to their own interests."

Mom was annoyed that she had missed her favorite part of the song, took a swig and said; "The Pacific Ocean is too tranquil, anyway. Now it can be as rowdy as the Atlantic."

Mom and Dad heard further reports that skirmishes have been reported on Israeli borders and that its military was on full alert. Dad found the report a tad sketchy and amusedly said; "Which borders are those?"

Mom reflected the humor and answered; "Whatever they claim they are today, I guess. It's a full time job to keep track and I've got other things to do." They simultaneously got up and went to the wine cabinet. Dad shut the radio and they imbibed.

As they giggled in a way that some hanging, capital crime convicted have, Dad thought of his "promise" to Polly concerning the late delivered birthday present and said; "Want to go shopping with me?"

"Yeah."

"Who's going to drunk drive?"

"Can't you ever make a decision?"

Each howled as he chased her to the bedroom.

Prince ate as Polly glowered at the kitchen window. The clouds lightly rumbled. Polly looked up at them defiantly and said; "Do your worst." Bird doo-doo hit her left eye.

They quickly went through the development without seeing any critics. Polly concentrated on Prince, as anticipating his next move was the best way for neither of them to be shortchanged. As she watched his nuances, as usual she forgot about everything else and was just happy to be on another adventure with her silly puppy.

They went way off the beaten track and didn't see any established path for an hour. Prince led her to the raging river and walked the edge path, the grounds looking familiar to him. With her need to concentrate on Prince diminished by the pedestrian ramble, her thoughts of the stupid book and DVD that were her birthday presents returned. She scanned the area for the ever present creeps with a passion for watching and commenting. The longer she thought about it, the more enraged she became. In a raucous speaking voice she said; "Pom-pom girl garbage and then the nerve to gawk and make jokes about it."

Thinking that she was speaking to him, Prince looked back at Polly and wondered why she was upset with him. He got no indication, shrugged and settled back into his humans-don't-make-any-sense mentality.

He brushed easily by the many tiny but thorny Russian Olive babies, his thick coat providing full protection. Polly didn't recognize the area and was maddened that he took her to something new that necessitated her skipping precariously around hazards, most significantly the thorns, which were difficult to detect. She kept saying; "Slow, slow," but had as much success with this phrase as always; none. She got livid when her pants leg was pierced by five stinging hooks at once, feeling them hit bare flesh. Out of necessity she stopped abruptly, stuck in the hazardous and confusing mess and brought Prince to a sudden unexpected halt. He was jerked sideways into a small tree trunk and hit his side; hard. He turned to see Polly trying to extricate herself from something he couldn't detect and thought she had chosen to pick berries or do something else frivolous, certainly not anything momentous enough to risk giving him an injury. He started to see red and when he tried to walk he was stopped and heard; "Wait a minute you stupid dog." He waited until she was free and moved quickly right under a Russian Olive with three foot ground clearance. His speed resulted in her not being able to stop quickly enough and her face found the spikes, blood running into her mouth.

Polly jerked the leash back toward her with a fury capable of stopping an ox. He wheeled around from the force and faced her, thinking; "What's wrong now? We've come here before." Three bizarre red-devil outfitted drummers tried to drown out the others. He saw her leg strike out, kicking him in the still sore side he smacked on the tree stump. He felt extreme pain, saw blood red and heard only the uninvited, angry, insistent drummers. He sprung at her hand and sunk in his teeth. When the blood flavor hit his taste buds he was immediately sorry for having acted out of bad instincts for the third time. He had forgiven himself for the first two events, but a triad did not meet his own standards. Three strikes and one is "out." End of story. He felt guilty as Pilate. He watched her angrily rub her hand, trying to stop the bleeding, but she only succeeded in increasing the scarlet flow. He looked up at her face and saw it red and twisted with rage. His expression was pleading, eyes wide and tongue out, panting. He thought; "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can be a good dog! I know it! Though I know I don't deserve it, only you have the ability to forgive me. I'm sorry for everything." She picked up a fragment of a bulky, lifeless tree limb with her left hand and raised it above her head, poised to bring it down and permanently crown him. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Prince waited for what he had earned and cried like a newborn pup.

A lifetime of memories raced through his mind in an instant. He recalled the first day he went home with Polly, helped by the advice of Marion. He remembered their wild backyard play, Polly tiring him out by holding him; sleeping warmly in her bed; the crazy people they met; and their many long walks on and way off the paths. He recalled the unsolicited advice she got concerning his behavior patterns and understood her dilemma. His tears flowed as the river, warming and moistening the hard earth below him.

In his state of mind he couldn't tell if a second had passed or an eternity, but it definitely seemed like a long time and he had not yet felt the wrath of the club. Trembling, he slowly raised his head and opened his dripping eyes. Polly had dropped the stick to the ground and was kicking it away with her right foot. She knelt in front of him displaying wet orbs that matched his own. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big passionate kiss on the nose. This was the best feeling he had experienced in his near two years of life and he frantically licked her face. He nuzzled his wet snout against her cheek and together they cuddled, laughed and continued to cry tears that now reflected joy and neither cared who might be watching.

The still morning was broken up by a sudden, warm southern breeze which surpassed the crest of the distant levee. Its work was high and low, clearing out the ominous dark clouds from the sky, creating tiny whirlwinds of dust on the ground and whitecaps on the deep, rushing water. It turned their faces rosy, his concealed with fur. Their glistening eyes looked up to the sprawling sun, then down to its reflection off the water pointing right at them. The two forgot the lower elevations and their eyes again rose from the eternally rushing river and the spiky desert floor to the clear, sapphire blue heavens. Now they could see that it was truly a great birthday and the sky was never before so high.

The End
