Curly and Alfie

 

The weather could not have been any better as Alfie lay on the porch in a perfect square of golden sunshine. The golden sun, the blue sky and the gentle breeze all contributed to his casual in and out nap for the last two hours. Rolling to his side, all four legs stretched out into a glorious and stirring motivation. Looking out across the lawn, he swore that he could hear the grass calling him. “Alfie,” it called, “Alfie, come run and play on me. I’m here for you.”

              Standing up and stretching again, he let out a wide mouthed yawn and a vigorous shake. Sprinting down the steps, he ran the perimeter of the yard at full speed, circling the vast, grassy expanse at least four times. Flopping to his side, he breathed heavily for a moment but then caught the scent of the most glorious smell.

              “Oh, oh… what is that?” he thought. Sniffing around the grass, he finally found the spot and dropped onto his back, directly on top of it. “Oh yeah, oh yeah,” he thought, “this is awesome.” Twisting from side to side, he finally stopped and sitting up caught sight of the orange tennis ball. “Oh hey, there it is,” he thought. “I haven’t seen that ball in like forever.” Grabbing it and trying not to drool too much, he returned to the porch and placed his front paws on the screen door.

              Attempting a small bark with the ball still in his mouth, he waited a moment and then barked again.

              “Hey boy, did you find your ball?” the young woman said from inside the house. Pushing the screen door open, she took the ball and tossed it across the yard. Like a shot, Alfie bolted across the grass, retrieved the ball and dropped it at her feet. “That’s a good boy, that’s a good boy,” she said, scratching him behind the ears.

              “You’re pathetic,” he heard from the opposite side of the porch. Curly, the older and certainly far more grumpy other dog, looked at him with contempt. “Get a spine, you simpleton,” he said. “All they are trying to do is tire you out. You need to show them who’s boss.”

              “I don’t know why you’re so grumpy,” Alfie said. “Master and lady are nice people, and they take care of us. You shouldn’t be like that.”

              “Here, watch this,” he said. Slowly standing up, Curly picked up the tennis ball and held it out to lady.

              “Oh, really? Curly?” she said. “Do you want me to throw the ball for you?”

              Tossing the ball across the grass, Curly waited until it bounced into the back flowerbed. Slowly trotting to it, he walked past it and proceeded to dig up the bulb on one of the tulips that linked the back fence.

              “Curly, Curly, Curly, no, no, no,” she yelled. “Not the flowers. Bring me the ball.”

              Pulling the bulb from the dirt, he trotted back across the grass and dropped it at her feet.

              “Bad dog, bad dog,” she said, swatting his backside with her flip-flop. Picking up the bulb, she went back into the house.

              “Now why did you do that?” Alfie said. “That was just mean. You know that she loves to look at those flowers. That ruins them when you dig them up.”

              “Pfft, don’t be such a pansy,” Curly said. “You need to think for yourself and do whatever you want. “What makes them think that they are the boss? Why should we do what they want?”

              “Well, duh,” he answered. “They own everything. They pay for everything, and they take care of us. That’s why.” Turning his back, he returned to his side of the porch and lay down, facing the opposite direction.

              Alfie’s ears perked up as he heard the distinct beeping of lady’s phone coming through the open window. “Hey honey,” he heard lady say. “He did it again. Yep, the bulbs. I don’t know what he’s thinking. It’s like he deliberately is being naughty. Plus he’s just mean and grumpy most of the time anyway. Ok, we can talk when you get home.”

              Looking over his shoulder, he could see Curly sleeping on his side of the porch, completely oblivious to the conversation that just took place. “Well, I’m not saying anything to him,” Alfie thought. “He brought this on himself. I wonder what Master and lady are going to do?”

              Later that evening, as the sky just began to grow dark, Alfie woke up to the sound of the screen door creaking open. Cracking open one eye, he saw Master walk out onto the porch and grab Curly by the collar. Dragging him across the grass, he attached his collar to the short chain attached to the doghouse. “Oh, wow,” he thought. “Curly is not going to like that. That chain is really short.”

              “You’ve been bad, Curly, bad dog, bad dog,” Master said, as he walked back into the house.

              Watching Curly slink into the doghouse, Alfie in some sense felt bad for him. “I just don’t get it,” he thought. “Everything is so good here. Why is he like that? The rules are very simple.”

              Several hours after dinner, Alfie went into the grass, found the tennis ball, and played catch with himself.

              “What are you doing?” Curly said from inside the doghouse.

              “I’m playing catch,” he answered. “That seems pretty obvious.”

              “Well, come here for a minute,” Curly said. “I want to show you something really obvious.”

              Dropping the ball, Alfie trotted across the grass to the doghouse. “Yeah, what is it?” he asked.

              “Here, stick your head inside,” he answered. “You have to be in here to see it.”

              “Uh, okay, I suppose,” he said. Walking to the opening, he looked inside and immediately felt a set of very powerful jaws dig into his throat. The strike was so fast and so strong that he didn’t even have time to respond. His body fell limp and he lay, motionless, partway in the opening.

              Dragging the now dead Alfie into the doghouse, Curly rubbed his neck and collar area on the bloody pool that had collected in the opening. Stepping over his now dead partner, he pulled backwards as hard as he could, nearly choking himself. Finally, the collar popped off, made slippery by the blood. Glancing toward the house, he saw and heard nothing from inside.

              Running to the side yard, he found the broken fence slat and slid through the small opening out into the neighbor’s yard, unhindered by any sort of fence. Trotting to the sidewalk, he began heading east. “I think I’ll go to Noddingham,” he thought. “Who needs people anyway?”