Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The Disappearance of Duck, Part 2

Hell Hound is sitting on the back stoop staring into the darkness when I approach. I lean really close to her face. "Alright, Where's Duck?" Hell hound looks down at the ground, and fakes a sneeze.

"That duck better show up alive by morning or you're moving out," I warn her. She stares at me with droopy eyes, feigning amnesia no doubt. I look out into the yard. It's past dusk now and bugs are everywhere. I'll never find duck without light, so I decide to get up early the next morning to begin a search mission.

Hell Hound avoids me for the rest of the evening. At two a.m., she's attempting to jump on my bed. I hear, "Tap, Tap, Tap, PLOP!" She's trying to gain the momentum for the leap, but the size of her furry rear prevents her legs from take off. I roll over to catch her by surprise. "Where's Duck," I hiss. We're nose to nose in the dark. Startled, she mutters a quick growl and retreats to the corner to settle on the floor.

I rise early the next day, and grab the garden shovel from the shed. Hell Hound follows me, suspicious. I decide to act busy and spy on her. She doesn't disappoint me. She goes right to duck and moves him to a new location in the yard. I'm relieved because it looks like he's still intact.

Hiding behind the basement doors, I watch Hell Hound bury duck again. When she settles down next to her hostage to keep guard, I roll my bait in her direction. It's a chocolate chip cookie. Her nose lifts and she stands. I pounce on her when she approaches the cookie. I tie up Hell Hound on her leash and go to save duck. I find him full of mud and slightly battered, but otherwise unharmed. In the hole where Hell Hound buried her, there is an interesting assortment of lost objects: an old library card, a piece of junk mail, a chewed blue ball, a rusty key, one of my husband's dress socks, a soda can, a broken cell phone, a chewed leather wallet, a police badge, and remains of countless other stuffed animals.

I retreat to the house with duck, ready to put him in the wash before the princess wakes up. Hell hound is panting. She knows I dug up her stash. I unleash her and she runs directly to it, moving things to some other place. Some of those objects are really bizarre. Maybe she's planning an escape. I wonder, could I be that lucky?

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Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

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