The Kindness of Strangers

A story about a troublesome dog.

My wife came in while I was watching the Pestilence Network.
“There’s a dog in the backyard.”
“What?”
“There’s a dog in the backyard.” The way she said them, the words were as plain as tap water.
“That doesn’t sound right,” I said.
“Well, read it and weep.”

I got up and followed her to the back of the house. I looked out through the kitchen window and sure enough, there was a dog in our backyard. It wasn’t a very large dog, more medium size, but it was very muscular. It had a sleek, brown coat. It was just sitting there on the grass, in the middle of our backyard. Its tongue was hanging out of its mouth.
“How did that get there?” I said.
“Search me, Jack,” my wife said.
“Don’t call me another man’s name.”
My wife laughed.
I went to the front of the house. I went out on the porch and leaned over the side to check the gate in the alley. The gate in the alley was still closed and latched. I went back to the kitchen window.
“The gate isn’t open,” I told my wife.
“Do you think it could have jumped over?”
“I doubt it. And even if it could, why would it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either. At least it hasn’t messed up your flower bed.”
“That’s true. You have to rely on the kindness of strangers.”

When she said that, the dog stood up, as if on cue. It panted and wagged its tail. It had a short, stubby tail. The sun was very bright. I saw some other dog, or maybe a deranged person, had taken a bite out of one of its ears.
The dog walked over my wife’s flower bed and started sniffing at it.
“No!” my wife said.
“Get away from there!” I said.
The dog ignored us, of course. It couldn’t even hear us. We hadn’t thought to open the window, even though it was a balmy day. The dog started pawing at the ground around my wife’s marigolds. Then, it started digging up my wife’s marigolds.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” my wife said. “Make it stop! Do something!”
“I know, honey, but it could be dangerous. What if it attacks me? What if it’s rabid?”
“Well, you can’t just stand there like a stick in the mud.”
“Do you want me to call Animal Control?”
“I want it to stop.”
“I’ll call Animal Control.”
“I want it to stop…”
My wife sank to the floor and lay there in a fetal position. I went to the phone and dialed the number for Animal Control. I heard the line buzz three times and then someone picked up.
“Animal Control.” The man had a gruff voice. It sounded like he had been in the middle of eating a ham and cheese sandwich.
“Hello, Animal Control? My wife’s in a fetal position.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, because of the dog.”
“Because of your dog?”
“No, it’s not ours. But it’s in our backyard. That’s the problem. It’s wreaking havoc out there.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. It’s digging up my wife’s flower bed. It’s digging up her marigolds.”
“And you’re sure it’s not your dog?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“If it’s not yours, why is it in your backyard?”
“How should I know? Look, it might be dangerous. It has a lot of muscles.”
“Most dogs do.”
“It’s digging up my wife’s marigolds. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Not really.”
“Well, are you going help us or not?”
“We’ll send a team out when we can.”
“When will that be?”
“It’s hard to say. Depends when we catch the gorilla.”
“The gorilla?”
“Yeah, a gorilla escaped this morning. A tiger, too. They’re running amok all over the city. We have all our men on the case.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Okay then. Great. You’ve been a great help. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“I was being –” The man had already hung up.

I went over to my wife and touched her shoulder.
“Honey? Animal Control said they would come as soon as they could. They’re busy right now. There’s a gorilla on the loose, and a tiger. They’re running amok.”
“Make it stop…” my wife moaned.

I looked out the kitchen window. The dog had completely dug up the marigolds. They were all scattered and stepped-on in the grass. After it has dug them us, it had kept digging and made a little hole in the dirt where the marigolds had been. At the bottom of the hole I could see a skeletal hand sticking out of the dirt.
“Oh, great,” I said. “I think it dug up a Native. That’s just what we need.”

The dog was sitting by the edge of the hole. It was looking right at me and panting. The hole reminded me of a pit. It was shallow right now, but I knew it could only get deeper.