The Nose Knows (12 page)

“That violates Mom’s Number One rule. I wonder if she saw the person.”

“I doubt it. Don’t you think she’d have stopped— the session if she’d seen another person?—She’d never let anyone eavesdrop on the group.—Besides, just because I saw the person doesn’t mean Mom would.—You know how many times a human can miss seeing something—even when it’s right in front of them.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Why didn’t you do something to disrupt the session?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Fearless’s eyes opened wide. “How could I get Mom to see the person?—She’d think I’d gone bonkers.—She might’ve made me leave the room,—and then no one would’ve been watching Mr. Johnson.—Spunk, what do you think we ought to do?”

“You’re right, Fearless, there was nothing you could’ve done tonight. Unfortunately, I think Mr. Johnson logs in from his home; otherwise we might pick up some clues by the smells he left behind in the downtown office. I don’t think there’s any immediate problem, except that he’s violating Rule Number One. We can handle that at the next session. For right now, let’s keep this to ourselves. He might act differently next time; maybe he was acting weird because something had upset him right before he signed on.”

“Maybe, but he was creepy.—I’m telling you, Spunk,—something isn’t right.”

T
he next day when we all met at Puppy Park, Quincy told me their walk home last night had been quite comical. He stank really good and he knew it. He was proud of it. Every critter they passed knew it too. He saw the envy in their eyes. They all wished they could stink like that. Quincy walked ahead with his chest sticking out and his tail proud and straight. But Jacob was anything but proud. He acted like Quincy wasn’t even his dog.

People would walk toward them, get a whiff, and then clasp their hands over their noses. As if a hand could ever protect you from a good fish stink! The look they gave Jacob clearly asked, “What is wrong with you, mister? Don’t you know your dog stinks?”

Jacob smiled and shrugged, as if he had nothing to do with this dog that just happened to be on the other end of the leash he was holding. Yeah, Quincy certainly enjoyed his walk home.

Now when they got home, some dogs (me included) would’ve tried to hide in order to avoid the dreaded bathtub. Not Quincy. He’s a true Lab. He loves water, no matter the kind. The bathtub was no exception. This time it was even better, because he was on a mission.

Predictably, Jacob left him outside until all the bath stuff was ready. Then, it was a straight march from the back door to the bathroom and into the tub. Jacob had the hand sprayer all attached and the doggie shampoo and lemons ready. Quincy jumped into the tub with glee. He looked down to make sure he didn’t step into the open drain hole. Jacob always removed the drain stopper when he gave Quincy a bath.

Every dog knows humans use too much shampoo. They really pour it on when a stink is involved. Apparently, the more suds, the higher their confidence that the stink can be conquered. Jacob poured it on. As he started working the shampoo into Quincy’s fur, the suds began growing and growing. Quincy could feel the ring on Jacob’s finger begin to move back and forth. The soapsuds were making his fingers slippery. Quincy wiggled backwards and pushed harder into Jacob’s fingers.

Jacob said, “So you like all that scrubbing, huh, boy? Does it feel good?”

Quincy wagged his tail and thumped it against the side of the tub. The loud thump distracted Jacob for an instant. Quincy quickly swung his head around, and slipped his teeth gently over the ring. Jacob reacted and pulled back his hand. The ring slipped off.

“Hey, Quincy, watch it. You knocked my ring off into the bathtub. Hold still while I look for it.”

Yeah, right. Quincy wasn’t about to let that happen. He immediately turned and acted as if he was going to jump out of the tub. Of course, Jacob now had to use both hands to hang on to his slippery dog. Actually, Quincy had used the fake jump so he could position his left front paw directly on top of Jacob’s ring. With one quick kick the ring headed for the uncovered drain hole. Quincy shifted his weight and his right front paw gave the ring a final push. It slid down the drain. With all those soapsuds acting as lubricant, Jacob never heard a thing.

Jacob couldn’t find the ring. He blamed himself for not putting the drain stopper in place. Jacob gave no sign that he suspected Quincy had outsmarted him.

Bobby had been right; a stinky fish had indeed left Jacob and his ring finger exposed to the truth.

Today Jacob was trying his best to keep his left hand hidden in his pocket. Maybe he thought it would keep Mom from noticing the missing ring. But his one-handed attempts at undoing Quincy’s leash and trying to get the tennis ball out of his pocket only served to heighten Mom’s curiosity.

“Jacob, what’s the matter with your left hand? Did you injure it?”

Quincy and I sat down and stared at Jacob. This should be good. We knew no matter what he answered, there was no going back. One way or the other, things were about to change.

Jacob started to laugh nervously. Mom may have thought his cheeks were turning red from the brisk wind—but we had a different opinion.

“Hannah, there’s something I need to tell you. I’m not married. I mean, I was married but we were divorced two years ago. I was a real jerk, not about getting divorced, but about not being honest with you. I thought it would be a lot easier if you thought I was married. Actually, I thought I’d be better if I wasn’t tripping over myself trying to impress you. I’m sorry. I misled you. I really don’t want my stupidity to get in the way of our friendship. I really am sorry.”

Mom’s brow furrowed, her left eye shut and her right eye stared with laser intensity. This wasn’t good. She hated being duped. She prided herself on being too smart for that. Yet, she’d missed Jacob’s lie. Her body stiffened. I smelled fear. She was shifting into anger. I had to break the tension.

I jumped on her leg. Then I barked orders for Quincy to follow me and we took off running across the field. One thing I knew, no matter what Mom might be feeling, if she thought I was unsafe, she would act first and feel later.

Sure enough, they both started to chase after us. We let them run far enough until they were short of breath and losing ground. Then I told Quincy to circle back. One of the great things about Quincy, he didn’t have to be the boss. He did what I said and he was quick on his toes. It was easy for me to choreograph our moves. When we got back to where Mom and Jacob had stopped, I opted for us to run in opposite directions around them. This made them dizzy. We danced in place for a moment before we reversed our circles. Now they were even dizzier. Then at just the right moment, I barked the command to sit. We both sat at exactly the same moment. Boy, were we cute!

Our efforts were not lost on our humans. Both of them were laughing. Dizzy, but laughing. Jacob actually had to sit down to get his bearings. I wasted no time. I jumped onto his lap and started kissing his face. I figured Mom would get the message.

“Well, I guess if Spunky can forgive you, so can I. Besides, if I’m honest, thinking you were married actually made me feel more comfortable too. I didn’t have to work at impressing you either. Jacob, I do understand what it’s like to want to stay hidden. But I need a friend who’s honest, so will you
now
tell me— why did you get divorced?”

We spent a long time in the park that night. Mom and Jacob talked a lot about the facts of their lives. Quincy and I took advantage of the lull. We found ourselves a soft pile of leaves, and had a nice long rest.

W
hen we got back from Puppy Park, Fearless was nowhere to be seen. I figured he was asleep under the bed. That’s his favorite place to snooze when we’re not home. Bobby and Sweetie made up the welcoming committee tonight.

I don’t think I’ve told you how these two got to our house. They arrived over a year ago. Mom rescued them from a neighbor who had decided to get a pet for her three young boys. This woman was as dense as a tree. She was always exhausted, and she complained constantly about how much she had to do managing her home, working full-time and raising three young children. But so what? Her children wanted a dog. They whined incessantly. She couldn’t get them to even pick up their toys in the yard. What made her think they’d take care of a pet? Any parent, critter or human, who relinquishes the alpha power to their children will soon have nasty little dictators ruling the pack. That’s what these kids were. The dictators won; she got them a puppy. Of course, it was a disaster right from the beginning. They were clueless as to how to care for a dog. Mom went over and taught them the basics. Of course, the pup whined and wanted to chew on everything. He was a baby, for heaven’s sake. The boys thought this new attraction was wonderful—for the first week. Then they started ignoring the feeding and walking and “picking up after” parts. Plus, when puppies are teething everything goes in their mouths, including fingers. And let me tell you, puppy teeth are sharp little knives.

It wasn’t long before the mother was knocking on Mom’s door. She wanted to give the puppy away. Mom knew the pup had to get out of there before he got hurt, so we took him. Four weeks later, she found him a better home.

You think the woman learned her lesson? Nope, a month later the boys were again whining about not having a pet. This time she had the half-baked idea that two kittens would be perfect. Her theory was the kittens would have each other to play with when no one was home, plus they didn’t require walking like a dog. According to her, all you had to do was empty their litter box and fill their kibble bowls. How hard could that be? Mom tried her best to set her straight, but to no avail.

This time it took only five days before she was knocking on our door. She said the kittens were mean. They didn’t want to be held and were scratching the boys when they picked them up. Have you ever see how kids hold an animal? They put a strangle hold on their upper body while the lower half is left hanging in the breeze. The kitten yowls and their claws come out. To me, it seemed totally justified that those bratty boys were getting some painful pay-back. I think Mom must’ve agreed, because she said she was too busy that day but the next day she’d try to teach the boys how to hold them properly. Before Mom could shut the door, Fearless began rubbing urgently against her leg and meowing loudly.

I asked, “What’s up Fearless? You look worried?”

“Mom needs to go over there—today—and see them.—Something’s wrong.—Those babies are crying a lot!”

I wasted no time. I trusted Fearless. Those kittens were speaking his native language, not mine. I made my move and jumped on Mom’s leg. When she looked down, I ran and jumped up on the window seat. I stared at the neighbor’s house and then back at her. I kept looking from one to the other. Mom didn’t know exactly what I was doing, but she did understand something wasn’t right.

She said, “Maybe I’d better go now and see for myself.”

Of course, I went along in case she needed my help. As soon as we entered the house, even Mom’s primitive nose could smell something was very wrong. Their litter box hadn’t been emptied. One kitten was right in the middle of showing Mom the problem. He was squirting. A closer inspection of their box showed they’d done a lot of squirting. After learning it had been going on for several days, Mom said they had to go to the vet right away. They were already dehydrated. Mom crated them, and off they went to Dr. Steve.

Several days later, Dr. Steve called and told Mom he suspected they had inflammatory bowel disease. They needed antibiotics, a good diet, and loving care. Mom wasn’t about to send them back to the three brats, and the neighbor lady was thrilled to get rid of them. I sure hoped she’d finally learned her lesson and had given up on the idea of a pet. I doubt even a goldfish could survive in that house.

So it was that these two brothers came to live with us. When I asked Bobby why he didn’t have a tail, he laughed and said, “I was born that way, missy. Some cats got them, some don’t. Me? I love being tailless— one less part to wash.”

It didn’t take me long to discover Bobby was the pushy one. He was the first to go anywhere—first into the cupboard, first up on the counter, first into the dryer, and first out the door if given the chance. He didn’t like to be held. That made sense after having the stuffing squeezed out of him by the three brats. Sweetie, on the other hand, would let Mom cradle him in her arms like a baby. He said the brats squeezed him a lot less if he stayed docile. Even as a kitten Sweetie was easy to love. Mom called him Sweetie right from the get-go. It fit who he was. She might’ve chosen differently if she’d any idea how often Sweetie would have to defend his honor over having such a sissy name. He’d become quite proficient at defending himself. But that didn’t change the fact—he was a sweetie.