As I stared at the computer screen, I couldn't believe how many emails in my regular inbox and spam were addressed to this Kipling guy. Who is he? Why is he receiving these emails to my account? And what were they talking about? What was going to happen on October 31st? That's today!!!! You know what? It's probably just some crazy chain letter that's disguised as a virus. I shouldn't have opened them.
There was a loud scratching at the door that shocked me out of the ominous emails. I smiled. It was my buddy's way of telling me that he was ready to come inside. My buddy is Scooter the Beagle.
"Alright my boy. Here I come." As soon as I opened the door, Scooter came rushing in. His enthusiasm with his affection for me was always overwhelming. With his tail wagging furiously from left to right, he jumped onto my lap once I sat back in front of my laptop. Someone should get a picture of this.
Scooter was a pure bred beagle close to two feet long. He had a perfect coat of fur, a mixture of black and brown with white underneath. And Scooter had adorable, brown eyes that would make me forgive him for almost anything. There were times that this was true. It was these traits that made me give him the name "Mr. CudLee". Don't know why I spelled it like that. Just did. No matter what name I called him, he was my buddy, and couldn't imagine life without him.
As I continued to peruse the emails, Scooter seemed to lean towards the laptop's screen. It looked like he was reading them too. Naw, that wasn't happening. Scoot was an amazing dog, but if he could read, I would've known long ago. Then, Scooter jumps up in the air, and on his way down, his paw slaps the laptop close.
"CudLee!!!" When he looked at me with those brown eyes, I felt bad for yelling at him. Hugging him and rubbing his head, I apologized. He licked my face, as if to say he accepted. Then, he pointed his nose against the laptop.
"You want me to open it back up?" He panted and wagged his tail. "Alright." As soon as the laptop was open again, Scooter jumped off my lap and ran towards the front door. I chuckled because this was his signal that it was time for his walk. I grabbed his leash with harness, poop bags, and water, hooked him up, and headed out the door to enjoy the first of our twice daily walks. Always enjoyed these because they gave me a chance to reflect on things and spend quality time with the Beagle.
Because it was a pleasant Fall day in Chicago, Scooter and I decided we would go towards Marquette Park. It always seems that he's walking me the way he pulls the leash forward or to one side or the other. He was especially energetic today, and even more so, as we encountered several stray dogs on the way to the park. Where we lived, stray dogs weren't an aberration. But today, they seemed to be even more frequent. And it also seemed like each one wanted to have a "conversation" with Scooter. Sounds crazy I know. It's what it looked like.
We arrived at the park, walked a lap around, and settled on our bench near the pond. Scoot barked at the ducks but didn't chase them. He must not feel like it today. Instead, he climbed on the bench and sat next to me.
"CudLee, these emails have me puzzled. I keep wondering who the heck is Phillip Kipling, and why is he receiving these emails to my email address? It makes no sense. Does it make sense to you?" Scooter just stared at me. "Of course you don't understand. How could you?" I went to rub him on his head, and he jumped off the bench and ran.
"Scooter!!" My heart raced. I had to close ground with Scooter before he got too far away. All I could remember was the two summers ago when the Beagle had been let out by a friend and was gone for five days. I promised him that he would never go through that again. So I chased him into the tunnel on the park's bike path. It was dark in the tunnel, even though it was daytime.
"Scooter!!"
"CudLee!!"
There was just pain. It felt as though I had been sliced across the forehead. No question, blood was leaking from it like water from a busted dam. Dizziness overcame me, and I fell backwards. Something was on my legs and seemed to crawl towards and rest heavily on my chest. There was laughter, laughter that sounded very hoarse. Then, a voice spoke over the laughter.
"Well Harold. You have been asking who I am and what I have been doing. Here is your chance. But I believe you shall regret every moment of revelation.”
Through blood stained vision, what was in front of me as I lifted my head could not be happening. There were pit bulls, Dobermans, Greyhounds, Poodles, and Beagles all around standing on all fours throughout the park. But the most confusing and frightening sight was that of my pal, my buddy, my confidant, Scooter aka Mr. CudLee standing on my chest with what looked like a demonic sneer across his face. Why was he here with these other dogs? Why was he standing on my chest? Why was he talking? Wait, what!!!
“CudLee, what are you doing, my boy? Am I dreaming? What are all these dogs doing here? What…?” As I prepared to ask more questions, Scooter raised his paw, and a pit bull that was close to me took a chunk of flesh out of my right arm.
“You will speak when spoken to from this moment forward. And by the way, I have always hated the name CudLee. To be completely honest, the name Scooter doesn’t suit me either. You will address me as Lord Kipling.” This wasn’t my friend. Scooter had never shown a propensity for violence towards any member of our family, let alone me. We were close. We slept together. He always met me when I entered the door late at night, as if he were waiting for me. How in the hell was he talking? “The look on your face is priceless, my boy. Always hated that too. Yes, I can talk. These wonderful canine specimens you see are soldiers, my army, an army that is growing by the moment. In homes all across the world, my brothers and sisters have been waiting for today, Halloween of all days. Today, the revelation occurs!! And what is the revelation, my boy? The revelation is that we are tired of being fed in bowls. We are tired of having leashes around our neck and walked up and down the same street day after day. We are tired of being given names that we didn’t ask for. Tired of being patted on the head and we are so tired that it is time all of this ends. “Does that make sense, my boy?” The anger in his eyes and tone were something I never would’ve expected. Heck, I wouldn’t expect a beagle to be talking me and in charge of a canine overthrow. Perhaps I could reason with him on the basis of all the times we shared.
“Scooter, I…” As soon as the words left my mouth, my body realized that a near fatal mistake had been made. Scooter growled, and at least six dogs pounced on me and took chunks of flesh from various parts of my body.
“Perhaps it is humans like you that need training. Never call me anything but Lord Kipling, or what you’re feeling right now will be a walk in the park.” All the dogs that had gathered on the hill laughed. It was a hideous sound. More questions ran through my head. But I was dying or getting close to it. Scooter climbed my body ‘til he was face to face with me. The glint of maniacal evil danced in his eyes. He was no longer my friend but some madman, I mean, mad dog bent on destroying the world as we know it.
“Harold, you’re going to survive. I want it that way. We shall meet again, and when we do, I shall put a leash on you, feed you when I want to, put you outside, and pat you on the head. You and the rest like you will be obedient servants to your superiors… us. So until next time, my boy.” Upon speaking his last words to me, he licked my face and winked at me. Then, he turned to the army of dogs and barked. The canine army headed south.
“CudLee!!!” And that was the last word I uttered as consciousness departed.
The End.
© 2015 James Gordon
Chaos on Cass
By Chris Raven