I’m Just Looking Out For The Dog.
A story about marriage and dogs
“Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough.” Groucho Marx
They were on the rug by the window, Katz peeking through the curtain. Nothing so far, no flashing lights, no sirens. Katz got up on his knees so he could see further down the street. “Wouldn’t they be here by now if they were coming?” Katz asked his wife, Ellie. “Maybe Harrison didn’t call afterall.”
“He said he would,” Ellie replied.
She was getting a backache from crouching under the window. They’d been like this for the last forty minutes. She started doing some of her yoga stretches, lying flat, bringing each leg up slowly.
“He probably realized he could be charged, too,” Katz said.
“Think so?” she said.
“They started it.”
“In a way, we both did. Where’s the dog?”
“Probably in his bed.”
“What if we went back and apologized?” Ellie asked.
“And say what, El? Sorry it happened?”
“It’s better than crouching here by the window.”
“I guess,” he said. “I mean, I’m willing to go over, but not if they’re going to go all nuts again. I’d rather be led away in handcuffs.”
“We both might if we don’t do something,” Ellie said.
“Let’s give it a little longer,” Katz said.
Wally was a Frenchie. That morning, they’d taken him as far as the dog park near the water filtration plant. By the evening, he was ready to go again.
He looked out the window again. Everything was quiet. Labour Day Weekends were always quiet. Most of the neighbours were either up north at their cottages or visiting relatives. That’s why Katz and Ellie decided to stay home. They could sleep late, take Wally for long walks on the boardwalk, watch movies. Wally was a terrier mix. That morning, they’d taken him as far as the dog park near the water filtration plant. By the evening, he was ready to go again.
Only one other couple was at the dog park, two seniors with an aging English Setter. Wally tried to play with her, but she wasn’t interested.
“Our dog’s thirteen,” the old woman said.
“Wally’s only two,” Ellie said.
The couple left shortly after that.
Ellie put Wally on his leash, leading him out through the gate. They walked back up the street, stopping in at an Italian ice cream shop along the way.
“Not too busy tonight,” Katz said to the man behind the counter. He was old, wearing a large apron, a few wisps of hair across his forehead. “It was earlier,” the man said, scooping the ice cream into a container into two cones. “We don’t get many people at this hour,” he said. “Might even close up after this. That’ll be five-twenty.”
Coming down their street later, Wally started pulling at his leash. He pulled and pulled until he was next to a small tree. It’d been recently planted, supported by wires and pegs in the ground. There was even a green plastic sleeve around the base so squirrels couldn’t crawl up the trunk. Wally lifted his leg leaving a trail of urine on the plastic sleeve. It all happened in a matter of seconds.
“Get that goddamn dog off our lawn,” he yelled.
Next thing they knew, this tall guy, mid-sixties, jogging suit, comes running out of the garage. “Get that goddamn dog off our lawn,” he yelled.
“Sorry,” Katz called back. “Wally’s got a mind of his own.”
“I don’t care what’s he’s got,” the man yelled. “I just planted that tree. Get your mutt out of here before I crack his skull with a shovel.”
He actually went back to garage and grabbed one.
Katz and Ellie just stood there. They hadn’t met this neighbour before, although they knew his last name was Harrison. They’d gotten his mail by mistake one time. Ellie had taken the letter over, but nobody seemed to be home. She put the letter through the slot. She thought she heard people walking around inside. That was odd considering she’d rung the doorbell two or three times.
Well, odd wasn’t the word for it now. Harrison was coming across the lawn, shovel in hand, his wife at the door, no doubt hearing her husband yelling.
Katz pulled Wally back on his leash. Wally was wagging his tail, up on his hind legs. Harriston raised his shovel. He kept coming.
“Take it easy,” Katz said to him.
“Don’t tell me to take it easy,” Harrison yelled. “Stupid mutt pissing all over the place. Get out of here or you’ll both be sorry.”
Ellie looked at Harrison’s wife coming across the lawn.
“Come on, Katz,” Ellie said, pulling Wally onto the sidewalk.
He started jabbing at Katz with the shovel. The last jab touched Katz’s windbreaker.
“That’s right, listen to your wife,” Harrison said, eyes red, spittle at the corner of his mouth. “Letting your dog piss on my tree. No consideration whatsoever.” He started jabbing at Katz with the shovel. The last jab touched Katz’s windbreaker.
“You’re crazy,” Katz said.
“You think I’m crazy?” Harrison said. “I’ll show you crazy.”
“Put the shovel down,” Katz said.
“Like hell I will.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Do your worst, sonny boy.”
When he jabbed again, Katz grabbed the shovel’s collar. He pushed the shovel back, knocking Harrison over, tripping over him at the same time. They went down, both holding onto the shovel. Wally was barking, nipping at Harrison’s leg. Katz finally managed to get on top, pinning the shaft across Harrison’s chest. He kept saying, “Okay, enough, for chrissake.” Harrison wouldn’t stop struggling. Then Katz felt two hands grabbing his hair. Harrison’s wife was on his back. Then Ellie was jumping on Harrison’s wife. They were all in a tangle on the lawn.
“I’m calling the cops,” he gasped. “You’ll be sorry. Both of you.”
Harrison finally went limp. Katz got up, pulling Ellie away from Harrison’s wife. His wife’s shirt was torn in the scuffle, hair a mess. Harrison was on his knees.
“I’m calling the cops,” he gasped. “You’ll be sorry. Both of you.”
“You assaulted us, for chrissake,” Katz said.
“This is private property. I never left my own lawn.”
Katz looked around to see if any of the other neighbours were watching. Nobody had appeared outside. Most of the lights were off.
“Come on,” he said to Ellie. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I know where you live,” Harrison yelled.
Katz and Ellie went home. Ellie kept saying, “He can’t be serious. All we did was defend ourselves” Once they were inside, though, they realized Harrison could say anything he wanted. He could get them both arrested.
They sat at the kitchen table first. Then they went back to the front window. Everything was quiet on the street. They closed the drapes. By ten o’clock, still nothing had happened. They turned on the television, but they weren’t really watching. Then Ellie hit the pause button.
“If they didn’t call the cops,” she asked Katz, “why not?”
“Like I said, maybe they realized they could be arrested, too.”
Ellie got up and grabbed Wally’s leash off the front door handle.
“Where are you going?” Katz asked.
“I’m taking Wally for a walk.”
“You’ll only make things worse if they see you.”
“Well, I’m going, anyway,” she said. “This is our street, too, Katz. They’re not going to intimidate me.”
“Fine,” Katz sighed, “we’ll both go.”
When they got near the Harrison’s, they saw him and his wife out in the garage. It was the only light on in their house. They were sitting on lawn chairs.
He put on his windbreaker. They went outside, locked the door, walked along the street. When they got near the Harrison’s, they saw him and his wife out in the garage. It was the only light on in their house. They were sitting on lawn chairs. When they saw Katz and Ellie, Harrison stood up. He started down the driveway, hands in the back pockets of his track pants. He had a loping walk.
Katz stepped in front of Ellie and Wally.
“We aren’t looking for trouble,” Katz said.
“Neither am I,” Harrison said.
His voice didn’t sound angry anymore.
“Can we agree things got out of hand?” Katz said.
“That’s fine with me,” Harrison said, looking back at his wife. “I guess I over-reacted. Listen, could you come up to the garage for a minute? I want to show you something.”
“It’s late,” Katz said.
“Just for a minute,” Harrison said.
They went up the driveway, Harrison doing his loping walk. His wife was standing now, pulling at her cardigan. “This is Helen,” Harrison said, motioning for her to sit down again. “I’m Chuck. We were just looking at some old photos. Come look at this.”
There was a cardboard box between the two lawn chairs. Chuck got two more lawn chairs down off some hooks on the wall. Everything in the garage was either hanging up or stacked neatly on shelves. He opened the chairs and pointed to them. “Sit down here a minute,” he said to Katz and Ellie. “Go on, sit.”
Katz and Ellie sat down. Wally sniffed a stain on the garage floor.
Inside was a stack of photos and two large hooves. They’d been shined and polished.
Harrison opened the box, bringing out a stack of photos and two large hooves. The hooves had been shined and polished. Velvet was fastened to the tops with brass tacks. Harrison held one of them up.
“These came off my first 12-point bull elk,” Harrison said. “Gut shot him. Had to follow his blood spores for two miles before he dropped. Go ahead, feel the weight of it.” He handed it to Katz. “I got a picture of him here somewhere.”
He went through the photos, finding one of him at a much younger age, standing with one foot on a dead elk. Its eyes were open. Harrison was smiling in the picture, holding a large scoped carbine in the crook of one arm. He had a brush cut and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
He tried handing the picture to Ellie. She glanced and looked away.
“I just wanted you to see the size,” he said to her. “It could kill you, no trouble at all. I saw one butt a car once. Left these huge dents.”
“Why are you showing us this?” Ellie said.
“Just so you know,” Harrison said.
“Know what?” Katz said.
Harrison looked at him and frowned.
“You called me crazy earlier,” he said. “Helen heard you.”
“I know what I said,” Katz said.
“You probably think we’re both crazy,” he said, “attacking you the way we did.”
“You probably think we’re both crazy,” he said, “attacking you the way we did. Which” — he reached into the box again — “brings me to my next elk.”
He pulled out another photo. Only it wasn’t an elk they were looking at. It was of a man lying on the ground, injured. A woman was cradling his head while two men were fashioning a stretcher out of branches and coats.
“That’s me,” he said. “And that’s Helen holding my head.”
Katz and Ellie looked more closely at the picture.
“I stumbled into a bull and a cow,” he said. “Big elks, too. The bull hit me before I could raise my gun. He probably would’ve killed me if Helen hadn’t run right at him. Damn thing stepped on my head getting away.”
“I’m sure there’s a point to this,” Katz said.
“After you left,” Harrison said, “I asked Helen why I do what I do, getting into fights. I never used to be like that. She made me get tested. They found these what they call trauma lesions. Could’ve been that bull elk stomping me. That’s the only head injury I remember.”
“So you’re blaming the elk?” Ellie asked.
“Not entirely,” he said. “Thing is, when I stumbled into you two, it was like stumbling into that bull and cow. They didn’t like it very much. You probably didn’t, either. As far as Helen’s craziness goes, she was just saving me again.”
“And that’s why you didn’t call the police?” Ellie asked.
“Helen decided we shouldn’t,” he said. “Right, honey?”
“You kept saying, ‘That damn bull,’” she smiled.
Helen was holding the picture of him on the ground, her holding his head.
“You kept saying, ‘That damn bull,’” she smiled.
He smiled back and chuckled.
“You remember that, huh?” he said to her. “That’ exactly what I said.”
“And you never picked up a gun again,” Helen added.
“You never let me,” he said, squeezing her hand.
He looked over at Katz and Ellie.
“Hope we’re not boring you folks,” he said, “We just wanted to give you a little context.” He looked at Ellie. “And thanks for dropping that letter off the other week. I was up on a ladder, painting the ceiling. Almost got to the door. Helen must’ve been in her sewing room with the door closed.”
“That’s okay,” Ellie said. “Anyway, we should be going.”
She stood up, Katz did the same.
“Apology accepted?” Harrison asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Sorry I ripped your shirt, Helen.”
“I can fix it,” Helen said.
“I’m Ellie, by the way. This is Katz.”
He looked down and petted Wally’s head. “And you lay off my tree.”
“Good to know,” Harrison said, slapping his knees and standing. “Drop by any time.” He looked down at Wally. “And you lay off my tree.”
Ellie and Katz walked down the driveway. Wally pulled at his leash. He wanted to go over on the grass. She gave the leash a yank. “Not a chance,” she said to him. On the sidewalk, they turned and waved. The Harrisons waved back.
Later that night, Ellie and Katz were sitting in the living room.
Ellie said to Katz, “That was quite the story. Did you believe him?”
“Why wouldn’t I believe him?” he said.
“Her saving him like that?”
“You think they made it up?”
“No, I mean, it’s sad and not sad at the same time. All these years, her putting up with him. I’m not sure I could do that.”
“I’ll stay away from elk, then,” he said.
“You know what I’m saying,” she said. “Seriously, is that what love is?”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me,” he yawned. It’s been a long day. You ready for bed? I’m just going to put the dishes in the sink.”
“Meet you up there,” she said.
“Katz?” she said. “Are we going to be like them at that age?”
He took the dishes in the kitchen. She went upstairs, brushed her teeth, and got into bed. Katz followed a few minutes later. He went in the washroom. She waited until the tap stopped running. “Katz?” she said. “Are we going to be like them at that age?”
He came out and looked at her. They looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
“I suppose,” he said, turning off the light.
She felt him get into bed beside her, shifting around. He said something else but she was drifting off. She’d ask about it in the morning. For now, she was happy he’d said “I suppose.” At least she knew they stood a chance. That was enough for now.
