In an instant, I went from being a shadow of my former self, to a sitting duck.
The dog barked.
And then another dog barked.
And then there was an unfamiliar cold nose sniffing at my ear as though trying to inhale my brain.
"Buster! Come here this instant."
Another voice from deep in the bowels of the house: couldn't make it out.
In response, the first one said, "I don't know, he's found something on the lawn.... You know I'm not wearing my contacts.... I don't know.... You're so curious, you can come look for yourself."
Those lights that had not already responded to the car crash, seemed interested in this long distance conversation that was punctuated by dog barks.
The sirens grew louder.
I turned my head just enough to see my dog waiting at the next corner. I think he considered investigating this strange dog giving me the olfactory once-over. He several times made like he would come to my defense only to become distracted by some new and more interesting smell.
Good.
As long as he stayed interested, he would be safe. Still a high-value target, but far enough away that they couldn't watch both him and me.
"There's been an accident," Buster's human bellowed to an unseen partner. "Next door.... No, the other next door.... I don't recognize the car.... Hit the pole.... I'm not doing this. You can look for yourself and, while you're at it, you can get your dog in the house."
There were more people now standing in front of their houses wondering what was happening; trying to decide which was more interesting: the accident, or this one-sided domestic.
And then we couldn't hear the nosy dog people. They were drowned out by the approaching sirens. It was eerily pretty to watch the red rotating lights pierce the ground fog.
I waited for them to pull up.
If I had judged it right, at least one of the vehicles would block the line of sight between me and whoever might be out there.
The balance was tipping. Not much longer now.
As it worked out, the fire engine pulled up closest to me. A big red brick of a vehicle with lots of parts and doors--lots of doors. "A place for everything and everything in its place," as my Mom used to say.
I think she would have liked me to be a fireman.
Time to grant her wish, if only for a moment.
The nosy dog had lost interest in me as soon as he had the fire department to bark at.
I thought the sniffing was loud, but when Buster opened his mouth, I winced. It was the kind of bark that would make Lassie forget all about Timmy and that well.
It was a bark that made the firemen nervous. They had no trouble trying to reach the kids in wrecked car, but this seventy-pound dog was making them second-guess themselves.
All the space I needed.
I got to my feet as unobtrusively as I could--not as easy as it sounds.
The firemen were trying to decide among themselves how to respond. They crowded around the bravest of their number as he pulled out his radio and called for Animal Control. It seemed to me that they were considering withdrawing to the safety of the high-cube style ambulance until they could themselves be rescued.
I circled around behind them and made my way to the passenger compartment of the fire truck. This is the bus shelter like area behind the enclosed portion of the cab and reserved for firemen waiting either for transfer or promotion.
"They're afraid of Buster," was the audible portion of the conversation that had apparently continued unabated since I first met their dog.
I pulled a turnout coat from the truck and tried hiding in plain sight.
My first concern was to get my dog out of harm's way.
I had an idea.
I grabbed the other turnout coat and went to reintroduce myself to my nosy friend.
The firemen were close to the back door of the ambulance, ready to snatch it open should Buster even feint in their direction.
I closed about half the distance between me and the dog.
At the corner, I could see my dog sitting down to better take in the show.
I sat down.
I tossed the heavy canvas coat in the air and, as it came down, I started to make a noise like a new-born kitten.
Things that squeak are for killing.
Nosy Buster didn't know what to make of this. He was curious, but he didn't know what to make of it.
I had his attention.
I tossed the coat again, only this time so it landed in the open space between us.
More squeaking.
Buster started to move toward the coat.
I pulled one arm out of the sleeve of the coat I was wearing while, with the other hand, I reached for the sleeve of the empty coat that was closest to me.
Buster understood immediately. He sprinted for the coat.
I transferred my grip on the empty sleeve to my free hand and quickly shrugged off the second sleeve of my coat.
Buster clamped down on the canvas coat determined to drag it away from me.
I was just as determined.
I used Buster's pulling strength to lever myself to my feet as I gripped the coat I had just been wearing by its reinforced collar.
My chest was pounding.
A crowd had formed to watch. They were, I suspect waiting for me to lose; waiting for me to get bitten.
I dragged the dog closer to me with one arm, while I dropped the free coat over the dog like a bath sheet and quickly enfolded him like a burrito.
This he did not care for.
As I scooped Buster up and tried to hold him tightly to me, I began moving toward his owner.
"What do you think you're doing? One of the firemen picked him up. You know he doesn't like to be picked up.... I don't know why he did it."
In my arms, Buster thrashed like a Marlin on a hook. It was his turn to make a high-pitched squealing noise.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Save your dog," was all I could muster as I brushed past her and into their house.
I put the dog down and I didn't stop moving.
To the back of the house, the back door, the backyard, the next block.
A couple of ninety-degree corners later I was on the dark side street that ran into the corner where my dog was waiting.
I whistled.
He heard me.
No comments:
Post a Comment