14
Night Shift Part Two
The sun was getting low in the sky.
I decided to head over to Lillian’s before she headed over to me.
“Honey,” she said, “you look like the back side of bad weather.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“It isn’t.” She laughed. “You oughtta go to sleep with the chickens tonight.”
“The chicken coop is not really built for a guy like me,” I said.
“Back home, that means get to bed early,” she explained. “Let me take the night shift tonight. You know I can handle it.”
“That was some fancy footwork last night,” I said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d had some kind of training.”
“Oh, honey, I’ve been chasing night critters since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,” she answered.
“Do you ever get homesick?” I asked.
“I do miss sitting on the front porch,” she said.
“And the pie,” I said, laughing. “Don’t forget the pie.”
“Seems like the only way to get some people to hush is to bring pie. That way they’re too busy chewing to interrupt the storytelling!” she said.
“Where did you say home was, again?” I asked.
“Why, I’m not sure I ever did,” she said. “I was born and raised in Georgia.”
“That’s a long way from here,” I said.
“It sure is, honey,” she said. “I was with Ida Rose for six years. She was an old-fashioned Southern belle, just as lovely as lovely can get. But as she got on in years, I’m afraid I was just too much dog for her.”
I waited for her to continue.
“She moved in with her daughter—who was happy to have her mama, but not so happy to have her mama’s big old dog.” She smiled. “And now I’m here.”
“I guess they got a little lonely next door when Bobby left for college,” I suggested.
“Lucky for me,” she said.
“Bobby will be home soon for Thanksgiving,” I said. “You’ll be playing fetch all day long.”
“Heaven knows they talk about him all the time,” she said. “I can’t wait to meet that handsome boy in person.”
Bobby was a good kid with a great arm—but handsome wasn’t a word I would use.
Bobby was short for Roberta.
15
Let the Sun Shine
“You feeling okay?” I asked.
“Fit as a fiddle, darlin’,” Lillian said. “Why?”
“You just said handsome ‘boy,’” I said, “but Bobby’s a girl.”
“Did I really?” she answered. “Of course she’s a girl! Silly me.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to catch up on some sleep.”
I gave her a nod and crawled out from under the house.
On the short walk back home I considered what I knew about Lillian.
Could be sleep deprivation. I once stayed up two days straight on an SAR job and forgot my own name.
She didn’t know that Bobby was a girl—and although she hadn’t met her, I knew for a fact that there were pictures of her plastered all over the refrigerator.
Lillian also spent most of the day under the house.
Come to think of it, I’d never had a conversation with her out in the light of day.
She’d also never told me what she had seen in the yard that night—because maybe she didn’t really know.
Maybe her owner wasn’t the one who was getting on in years and feeling poorly—maybe it was the other way around.
It got me thinking of a search-and-rescue dog out of Topeka named Dutch.
Old Dutch developed some kind of problem with his eyes—and sunlight only made it worse.
He had a crazy-looking pair of sunglasses he would wear when he had to be out in the daytime.
He looked like kind of ridiculous, but Dutch was not a mutt you wanted to mess with.
Besides, as far as search and rescue goes, you could wear a tutu and an Easter bonnet as long as you come back with what you went out looking to find.
There was no way to reach out to Dutch—I needed somebody closer to home.
Lucky for me, I had a pretty good idea of where I might find a dog with some medical issues.
16
I Hear You Knocking
I knocked on the doggie door at the back of the house.
It opened a sliver.
“Yeah?” answered Vince.
His voice was thin and sharp—like something really thin and sharp.
“Sunglasses,” I said.
The doggie door opened just enough for a biscuit.
I didn’t have a biscuit.
I pushed the whole front half of my body through the door
Then I stuck my face inside his ridiculous funnel.
“You wore them for a while,” I said. “Why?”
“Complications from an eye infection,” he said.
“Go get them,” I growled.
Vince ran upstairs on his stumpy legs.
While he was gone, I made myself comfortable in the kitchen.
The refrigerator was plastered with pictures of me and Barb.
There we are at the tracking and avalanche seminar in Colorado.
And there we are with a bunch of the guys when we flew down to Haiti after the earthquake.
A notice for a lost dog.
It was on top of a newspaper clipping of one of our last gigs together—a building collapse in downtown Philadelphia.
That was a good rescue. I’d have to remember to tell Lillian about it.
A listing of pets from the animal shelter that needed new homes.
Mr. Smoochy, a gray kitten, was at the top of the list.
Even a chick the size of an empanada could give a cat named Mr. Smoochy a hard time. Poor kid was gonna need a new name no matter where he went.
I heard the funnel scraping along the wall as Vince came down the stairs.
He handed me a pair of doggie sunglasses.
“Why does Hero Dog need a pair of sunglasses?” asked Vince. “In case you hadn’t noticed, your days of photographers and newspaper clippings are over.”
“If I thought I owed you an explanation, I would have given it to you already,” I said.
Vince used his tongue to suck something out of his teeth.
“I’m not sure they’re gonna fit your new friend,” he said.
“When her business is your business, you’ll be the first to know,” I said as I turned away.
“I didn’t think you’d sink any lower, J.J.,” he said. “From hometown hero to chicken bodyguard—and now errand boy.”
“If you were any less of a dog, you’d need a litter box,” I said.
“Chump,” he muttered.
“You looking to start something here, Vince?” I asked.
“Lillian’s not telling you everything,” said Vince.
I put my face inside his funnel again.
“You don’t know anything about her,” I said.
“If you say so,” he said with a half smile.
I wanted to stare him down, but the double dose of dog breath in the funnel was getting to me.
I picked up the glasses in my mouth and headed toward the doggie door.
I turned around to face him one last time.
“You got anything else to say?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he answered.
17
Slumber Party
Lillian entered the yard shortly after midnight, just as we had agreed.
She stuck to the shadows as usual and looked around the yard.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey back,” she replied, smiling.
“Just did a head count,” I said. “Everyone is exactly where they should be.”
“You go on and get some rest,” she said. “I’ll wake you up if I need you.”
“Thanks, partner,” I said.
I headed
back to my doghouse.
I had decided to take her advice to go to sleep with the chickens, but not in the way she meant it.
Moosh and the chicks were waiting for me inside.
“I still don’t understand what we’re doing here,” said Moosh.
“It’s safer than the chicken coop,” I said.
Truth is, I was worried about Lillian’s eyesight and wasn’t sure she could handle the shift on her own.
I might have been a little rough on the kid the night before, and she wanted the chance to prove herself.
This way she could do it without anyone getting hurt.
I didn’t want to hurt Lillian’s feelings or embarrass her, so I had Moosh and the chicks in the doghouse with me.
I put the sunglasses around my neck for safekeeping.
I would give them to Lillian tomorrow when nobody was around.
I gave up my dog bed to the chicks, and they were warm and comfortable despite the open door and the cool night.
Moosh headed back to settle in with the chicks, who were all sound asleep.
I laid my body down right inside the door and wrapped my tail around so that it just covered my eyes.
The sounds of the night were standard issue.
An occasional passing car.
Windows opening and closing.
The hoot of an unseen owl.
Then—there it was.
An unmistakable … thud!
Lillian heard it too.
She turned her head and then stood up.
Her posture and tail were relaxed and casual—not standing straight up in alarm like the night before.
It was clear she wasn’t looking for a possum.
She was waiting for it.
18
Strange Company
The possum came out of the shadows, confident and comfortable, despite the lurking figure of a fifty-pound dog.
Lillian looked around the yard and then stepped aside.
“Make it quick, Ida,” said Lillian. “And keep it quiet, will ya? Those chicks will sleep through just about anything, but Moosh is another story.”
There wasn’t a hint of Georgia in her accent.
The possum walked into the chicken coop like she owned it.
Moosh had come up behind me and saw the same thing I did.
She was trying to force her way past me.
I muzzled her with my tail and kept her still.
I could hear rustling and hissing from inside the chicken coop.
Moosh’s eyes got as wide as I’d ever seen.
The possum was tearing that place apart.
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Neither could Moosh.
She ran over me, across the yard, and headed right toward Lillian.
I caught up with her and got in between them.
“Run, Ida!” Lillian yelled.
Ida came racing out of the coop and ran right past me.
I didn’t know Sugar was in the yard until I saw Ida swoop her up in her paws.
“Let her go!” I barked.
“Not a chance,” Ida answered.
Lillian went nose-to-nose with Ida.
“This wasn’t our deal, Ida,” she said. “Put the chick down.”
Sugar was now dangling from Ida’s mouth, pale and breathing fast.
If I pounced, Sugar was a goner.
Lillian turned to me.
“Listen, J.J.,” said Lillian. “Just do what I say, and everything will be fine.”
“I’ve wasted enough time listening to you,” I said.
Right then and there it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Since the first night I’d met her, she’d been trying to get me away from the chicken coop.
There was the invitation for a midnight stroll and the wild-goose chase to the back fence, and tonight she had convinced me to let her handle the night patrol alone.
I finally realized that Lillian had never set paw in Bobby’s house.
She wasn’t living next door—she was hiding there.
I had been so busy tracking the shadow of a possum that I’d missed what was standing right in front of me.
A big, white, shiny lie.
Lillian didn’t have a problem with her eyes.
She had a problem with the truth.
19
Mama to Mama
“I’m just trying to help out my friend here, so you’re gonna back off, you’re gonna do what I say, and you’re gonna let Ida Rose get what she came here for.”
Ida Rose … at least the name was real. We were at a standstill.
“Everything is going to be okay, Little Boo,” said Moosh. “Mama’s here.”
She was walking slowly toward Ida.
Ida took Sugar out of her mouth and held her in her claws.
“I’m not leaving until I get what I want,” said Ida.
Moosh was within an inch of Ida’s face now.
“That’s my baby you have in your paws,” said Moosh.
Ida was having a hard time looking Moosh in the eye.
“I know what you really want,” said Moosh.
“Moosh,” I said. “Don’t do it.”
She ignored me.
“You’re going to put Sugar down now. And you and I are going into the chicken coop.”
I made a move toward them, but Ida grabbed Sugar even tighter and Moosh waved me off.
“I’ll handle this, J.J.,” said Moosh. “Ida Rose is going to put Sugar down now … and you’re going to let her pass.”
“I don’t know about this, Ida,” said Lillian.
“You’ve done enough damage,” spat Moosh.
I never thought I’d see a grown dog back down from an aging chicken—but this night was full of firsts.
Lillian did what she was told.
Ida let go of Sugar without ever taking her eyes off Moosh.
I picked Sugar up with my teeth and held her there like a newborn pup.
She was still shaking.
“Me and Ida here are going into the chicken coop,” said Moosh. “And we’re going in alone.”
20
The Longest Minute
The rest of the chicks had finally made their way out of the doghouse.
I could tell by their faces that they had seen enough to be terrified.
Inside the coop, there was silence.
If anything happened to Moosh, Lillian was going to answer for it.
I was so tense, I didn’t think I could move if I wanted to.
Moosh was one tough chicken, but I didn’t know if she could survive a throwdown with a possum.
I needed to hear something—anything—that would let me know what was going on in there—and give me a chance to do something about it.
A minute went by … and still nothing.
Finally the first tiny sounds slipped out of the chicken coop.
“Achoo.”
“Click.”
“Achoo.”
“Click.”
“Achoo.”
“Click.”
Seconds later, I saw the single strangest thing I have ever seen—and I once saw a moose float past me in ladies’ pajamas.
I saw a chicken and a possum walk out of the coop side by side.
“Achoo.”
The tiny head of a young possum was sticking out of Ida’s pouch.
“Click.”
21
Old News
“Ida Rose got separated from her little girl a few days ago,” explained Lillian with tears in her eyes.
“How did you know she was in the coop?” I asked.
“A baby possum sneezes to call for its mother,” Ida Rose answered. “And the mother clicks to answer it. We had both heard it, but I couldn’t risk going in with you protecting the chickens.”
Ida turned to Moosh.
“Thank you for keeping her warm every night,” she said.
There was plenty of hay and plenty of food on the floor in the chicken coop. Moosh
had actually been keeping the little thing warm every night the same way she kept her eggs warm—by sitting on top of her.
The only difference was, Moosh had no idea she was there.
“How did you know Ida wasn’t going to hurt you?” I asked Moosh.
“There’s only one reason a possum would keep coming back to this yard with a dog hot on its trail—to protect her own,” she said.
I had Lillian’s sunglasses around my neck and I felt like a fool.
I wasn’t even sure where to begin.
“You’re not from Georgia, are you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Lillian shook her head.
She was having a hard time looking any of us in the eye.
“How did you wind up keeping company with a possum?” I asked Lillian.
“I met Ida Rose under the house next door,” she explained. “I’d been hiding there.”
“We were both scared and alone,” said Ida. “I took a chance and asked a dog for help—and got it.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me for help?” I asked.
“Ask you to help a possum?”
The upstairs light flipped on.
“So who are you?” I asked.
“Nobody,” Lillian said sadly. “I’m nobody. I’ll be going now. I never meant to cause any trouble.”
“She’s a fugitive,” said a voice from the shadows.
We all turned to see Vince walking toward us.
He was carrying something in his mouth.
He tripped over the garden hose and landed facedown in front of the coop.
The funnel was stuck in the loose ground, and his legs and tail were flailing out of the top end.
His muffled voice came out from under the funnel.
“She’s a show dog,” said Vince. “A fugitive show dog.” He placed his paw on the paper he’d dropped when he fell.
Moosh has a much bigger heart than I do, and she pushed him over so he could get back on his feet.
“You’ll be captured any minute now, Diamond Lil,” cackled Vince. “And that’s all that matters.”
LOST!