ext_307978 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
marcellapolman.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ds_flashfiction2007-01-01 03:20 pm
marcellapolman.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2007-01-01 03:20 pm
Amnesty challenge 2006 - by Marcella Polman
When I posted my first story on ds-flashfiction in December 2005, I resolved to reply to every challenge Cesperanza would upload in 2006. I failed. I missed six. Fortunately, there are Amnesty challenges (and thankfully, Ces is very easy with deadlines). I decided to use Amnesty 2006 to write a story that would at once address the six challenges I missed.
It is a seven part fic. The first and the last part aren’t challenge related; they are the wraps that enhance the coherence of the story (I hope). Parts 2 to 5 address five of the six challenges. With regard to the OC challenge I cut myself some slack. Strictly speaking, there is no Other Character is this fic. Many stories have featured this character, and his pov has been done before as well. Never by me, however, so to me he is in a way an OC.
Title: The things I do for love
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG-13
Size: about 4800 words
The things I do for love
1. Introduction
When stories are told, they usually have a clear start and ending, and preferably an interesting middle. It seems therefore germane that I begin with an introduction.
I first came to Chicago on the trail of his father’s killers and I remained for a very simple reason that I have no trouble to reveal at this juncture (I was never the scrupulous kind and I have nothing to hide). I stayed because he did.
We form a strong bond, my Human and I. We were both born and raised in the North West Territories. I saved his life and he claims he saved mine. He was exiled to Chicago, Illinois, the United States of America, and I came along. We both adjusted to living in the city. Or to put it in a better way: I learnt to love it, while he managed to bear it.
I sincerely believe that life would be far easier for him if he let go of his yearning for Pemmican, and switched to donuts. I have told him so on more than one occasion, but his categorical and rather cryptic response would be that “that wasn’t it.” My reply to this statement would be an incredulous huff, to which he would heave a sigh. Then we would sigh in unison. My Human is much too stubborn for his own good. I mean, has he ever tried a donut?
In this introduction, I feel I must also address his Others. Others are male Humans who work at the 27th Chicago police precinct in the capacity of detective and who liaise with my Human. Or the other way around, I’m not entirely sure. Liaising is a difficult concept for me to grasp. I do understand a few aspects of it, however.
First, it is something my Human’s superior officer doesn’t like him to be involved in. She doesn’t exactly forbid him to liaise (or to be liaised with), but I can clearly smell her regret when my Human leaves the consulate to get in his Other’s car.
This is another aspect about liaising that I understand; it involves driving around in cars, preferably old-fashioned ones. Sometimes my Human asks me to accompany him and his Other. I always grant him the favour. Others are nice people (it is not uncommon that they offer me donuts) and I like driving around in cars.
The official purpose of liaising, as I came to understand, is to solve crimes. Frankly, I don’t think it is a very efficient means to this end. Back in the Northwest Territories, my Human solved crimes on his own (with me as his companion) and not much time was spent in cars. For how can one smell a trace when one sits in a car? How can one lick suspicious objects (my Human’s equivalent of smelling traces) in the confined space of a vehicle? It makes no sense at all.
The personal benefit that liaising with Others has for my Human, is much clearer to me.
Even to human standards, my Human has a complex character. I didn’t realize this until we arrived in Chicago, but then there were many Humans to whom I could compare mine, and it was clear to me that he was Different. He didn’t fit in. In the Northwest Territories, he had been alone—without the company of other Humans—now he was lonely—depressed because of the deprivation of contact with specimens of his own species.
He lacked the skills to establish such contact and tried to solve the problem by undertaking idle attempts to convince himself he was in fact happy to be alone. He had always been content to be all by himself, so why would this be different now? I gave him a couple of reasons why, but he just scowled at me.
I believe I already mentioned his stubbornness.
Liaising with his Others eased my Human’s loneliness. Both Others were puzzled by him at first, but they learnt to appreciate him, the Airedale Terrier a little quicker than the Doberman.
They are of course humans, not dogs. Comparing them to dog breeds just makes it easier for me to refer to them as two different Others. Mentioning them by their given names won’t do, because they are both called Ray.
The first Ray reminded me of a Doberman Pinscher. Dobermans are elegant creatures, and although I don’t know for certain whether the first Ray was considered elegant to human standards, I recall that he often spoke of the importance of style and wearing the right clothes.
Dobermans are also extremely protective, and a fine example of the first Ray’s protectiveness became apparent during (or rather at the end of) the Incident with the Human Bitch.
She was a criminal, but nonetheless my Human fell in love with her. He turned her in to the police and she spent several years in prison. This was in the Northwest Territories. After she was released, she came to Chicago, still very much a criminal. The Doberman sensed this (or just didn’t like her), but my Human fell for her again (or perhaps he had never ceased to do so).
She tried to entice him to choose her side of the law, and he would have given in and paid with his life, if the Doberman hadn’t shot him. I think he meant to shoot her, but that is beside the point. Someone wanted to harm my Human, and the first Ray defended him with a fierceness a Doberman worthy. (I would have bitten her throat had I been given the chance, but that is beside the point as well.)
A third similarity between a Doberman Pinscher and the first Ray is their need to be with family. The first Ray shared his home with his mother, his two sisters and his brother in law. This is uncommon for an adult human, as I came to understand, but he seemed quite happy with the situation. I don’t think his living arrangements were the reason he moved to another state.
The second Ray is of a different breed, so to speak. He is more of an Airedale Terrier. Like an Airedale, he needs to feel loved and respected. So much in fact, that he cannot to let go of his ex-wife emotionally. Whenever they meet—which is quite often because he is a police detective and she is an assistant state’s attorney—he tries to extract some crumbs of affection from her. Obviously, his endeavours have the opposite effect: the Airedale’s behaviour annoys his ex-wife a great deal.
Also, like an Airedale, the second Ray likes to please others unless there are more pressing matters at hand. He once had the chance to retaliate against a man who humiliated him when he was a youngster. No one could stop him, not even my Human. Not even while the 27th precinct was in dire straits as Internal Affairs deemed it necessary to investigate the division, because a prisoner declared that the first Ray—and by extension all of his colleagues, including the lieutenant—was corrupt. The second Ray was desperately needed to stand in for his predecessor, but he had other priorities. The entire day, he waited at the graveyard for his enemy to turn up.
Finally, he met the demon from his past, who appeared to have forgotten all about him. There was no chance for retaliation after all, but the encounter was cathartic to the Airedale nonetheless. Moreover, he was back at the station in time to save the first Ray and the rest of the precinct.
A third case in point is that of the shared dominance issues. Airedale Terriers tend to challenge the position of the alpha dog; the second Ray tends to challenge the position of my Human. Once he even hit my Human. With some delay that, frankly, I thought highly unbecoming an alpha, my Human hit him back. They maintained the equilibrium, but it was fragile.
I feel that I have now sufficiently introduced the characters that played an important part in my recent undertaking. The Doberman Pinscher will only be referred to in a haphazard fashion. I deemed it right to mention him in the introduction because he was my Human’s best friend for three years, and because without him, my Human and the Airedale Terrier would never have met.
I will continue by revealing the details of my adventure.
2. Undercover
When they asked me to go undercover, I wasn’t pleased. As I had come to understand, ‘undercover’ meant ‘away’. My Human had gone undercover twice, once at a mental institution, and once at a girl’s Catholic school. In both instances, I hadn’t seen him for days.
When my Human and I returned from our holiday in the Northwest Territories last year, we found that the Doberman had disappeared. It turned out that he had gone undercover to Las Vegas. To me, it was clear that ‘undercover’ and ‘away’ were synonyms, although it puzzled me that my Human insisted the Airedale Terrier was undercover as well, for he was very much ‘here’ and not away at all.
When they explained it to me, I understood that being away is just a minor aspect of being undercover. Being undercover means that for a certain amount of time one pretends to be what one is not, in order to gain information that is difficult or impossible to attain otherwise.
The Airedale Terrier is only undercover in the second degree: he fills the void the Doberman left in order not to raise suspicion. The Doberman is genuinely undercover: he pretends to be a member of the mafia to obtain information about criminal activities.
I was asked to pretend to be an Artic Timber wolf/Siberian Husky hybrid (I didn’t understand the pretend bit of that) with a behavioural problem (I thought it would be nice to see how great an actor I was.)
The Airedale—well, this is going to be confusing perhaps—the second Ray would act as my owner. The decision was based on the fact that the main suspect of the crime under investigation was a female of about forty, and that the second Ray, with his great charm, would be able to make her confide in him.
I didn’t understand. My Human’s charm may be very different from his Other’s, when it comes to the opposite sex, it is infinitely more effective. Human bitches cannot seem to keep their paws (‘hands’) off my Human. It scares him to pieces.
I don’t like human bitches very much. They are not as generous with donuts as the males, but more importantly, they are vicious. If they wouldn’t like the smell of fear so much, surely they wouldn’t stand so close to my Human.
Generally, I don’t like human bitches, but I’m very fond of one particular civilian aid at the 27th precinct. She touches my Human even more than any other female does, and he isn’t less afraid of her than he is of other bitches, but I don’t think he is in any real danger with her. Her attempts to win him over are too obvious. He will never yield to her (although he is known to run from her on occasion.)
With regard to other bitches, I am not certain. He may give in at one time just to find some peace, to have someone tell others to keep their paws off him. For an alpha male, his demeanour is incredibly meek when it comes to females.
I realized that this could be the reason the second Ray would act as my owner. Perhaps they thought my Human would be too nervous to make good use of his charm upon meeting the suspect.
3. School
“I’m taking you to school,” Ray told me, while I licked the crumbs of a donut from my muzzle.
I thought schools were for children, but Ray explained that he would take me to a ‘dog school’ where my ‘behavioural problem’ would be addressed. My task would be to misbehave and to keep my eyes open.
My stage name would be Abraham, the tag on my new collar said so. There was a little recording camera hidden in it.
The owner of the dog school reminded me of a Christmas tree with the amount of jewellery she was wearing, but she was a very nice female, and she instantly noticed my descent.
“Oh, what a beautiful hybrid you are,” she cooed. “The son of an Arctic Timber Wolf and a Siberian Husky, aren’t you?”
I smiled at her, but Ray said, “I…He…Abraham was a present from a friend who imported him from Canada. He is rather aggressive. I can’t seem to make him listen to me.”
For good measure, I bared my teeth and growled. The female wasn’t impressed.
“Ooh, you are quite an actor!” she said. Which meant, of course, that I was a very bad one.
She looked at Ray and stated briskly, “You must be doing something wrong, sir. Come along.”
The female—Ms. Kennedy—walked us across the compound and it turned out that besides a dog school, there was a shop for dog supplies as well as a breeding farm for German Shepherds. Ms. Kennedy really must love dogs, I thought.
Ray and I were assigned to ‘behavioural problem’ class. The attending canines—all mature and mostly of larger breeds—were barking and growling fiercely and I went along. I was supposed to be a bad dog, wasn’t I?
I watched Ms. Kennedy have conversations with each separate human-dog pair (there were five, including Ray and me). First she addressed the dog, holding its gaze like a true Top Dog and telling it ‘no’ in an authoritarian voice when it growled at her. She continued this until it calmed down. Then she made it sit and turned to its owner, explaining that even in mature dogs, most problematic behaviour could be corrected, provided this was done with a lot of patience and unwavering consistency.
She told each owner, “Make your dog stay calm and seated by using your voice and your gaze. Don’t avert your eyes until your dog obeys.” Then she moved to the next pair.
Finally, she came to Ray and me.
“For hybrids like Abraham things are a little different than for dogs,” she said. “If he wasn’t properly raised it wouldn’t be of much use to have him attend this class.” She smiled. “Fortunately, I don’t think that’s the case. I think he is just challenging you. You need to find a balance between not being toyed with and earning his trust.”
Ray have her a helpless ‘How on earth am I going to do that?’ look and I growled at him. I didn’t trust him, did I?
When Ms. Kennedy told me ‘no’, I obeyed instantly and sat. I liked her. I wanted her to be right about me. It was Ray I didn’t trust.
Mrs. Kennedy walked off and when I looked at Ray, he clearly pronounced the word ‘bastard’.
I huffed. He was wrong. I am not of dubious origin. I’m a hybrid.
After class, when the other humans and dogs had left, Ray tried his charm on Ms. Kennedy. She didn’t seem very impressed. When he complimented her on the jewellery she was wearing, she told him in a matter-of-fact tone that the pieces were gifts from her lover, a businessman who frequently went abroad.
I noticed that the information interested Ray, but he changed the subject and inquired about the ins and outs of dog breeding.
Ms. Kennedy clearly liked dog breeding, but at some point—when Ray assumed that there would be a lot of money involved in the business to be exact—she stopped talking and said to Ray, “I have a feeling you’re here to ask me something else.”
Ray gave her a broad smile, but she just seemed to wait for him to tell her what it was he wanted from her.
“I was wondering…,” he said, “I was wondering if I could leave Abraham with you for a couple of days. I will pay you of course. It’s just that I…I am a painter and I can’t concentrate on my work when he’s around. I need quiet.”
Ms. Kennedy eyed him suspiciously, and I didn’t blame her. “You’re not planning on abandoning him, are you?”
With the right amount of indignation, Ray quickly reassured her that he would never do such a thing.
“If you leave him here, you will postpone his learning to trust you,” Ms. Kennedy said.
“I’m aware of that,” Ray told her. “But I really need to finish this painting. Please?”
He smiled and even batted his eyelashes at her, but she averted her eyes and looked at me. “What do you think, Abraham? Would you like to stay with me for a while?”
I barked in assent. She petted my head and said, “All right then.”
I think she was more impressed with my charm than with Ray’s.
4. Dream
My days at Ms. Kennedy’s compound weren’t very eventful. The most memorable (and unfortunate) incident was that I learnt a song.
I am deaf but I can lip read. Human speech has no secrets for me. Facial expressions can be very revealing as well, and so can the movements of the throat, for I wasn’t born deaf. Sometimes I wish I were, though.
Ms. Kennedy taught me her favourite song, a truly horrible one. Its content was neurotic, its lyrics saccharine and its melody tacky. She sang it all day, and she made me pay close attention. I wanted to run, but that would have been rude (and I’m a Canadian just as much as my Human is.)
When Ray came to collect me, I needed all my strength to hide my glee.
The humans were rather disappointed about the footage my camera recorded. It consisted mainly of Ms. Kennedy’s kneeling body while she was singing to me.
The song seemed contagious however, and that in itself was educational.
When my Human, his Other and I were liaising through the streets of Chicago, I saw in the rear view mirror that Ray was singing under his breath. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped, glancing askance at my Human, a blush creeping up his cheeks. (When humans blush, when their faces color red, it means they are caught doing something embarrassing, either by themselves or by others.)
I assumed Ms. Kennedy’s song had some special meaning to Ray, and I didn’t deem it likely that his embarrassment was related to his ex-wife. He had never been embarrassed about his feelings for her, so why would he start now?
Apparently, his embarrassment had something to do with my Human, and I thought it was very interesting.
I love my Human. He often drives me crazy, but I do love him. I want to see him happy, and I have always felt that having a human companion, a human mate, would greatly enhance his happiness. His last encounter with the one human bitch he ever loved was a disaster however, and instilled in him a great fear for females.
I concluded that for reasons of practicality, perhaps it would be best if my Human focussed on his Other. Chances were that Ray would be very happy to be his mate, and I decided speak to my Human about it as soon as we were alone.
He wasn’t amused. He said that it was none of my business. He said Ray was still in love with his ex-wife. He said that once Ray had overcome his feelings for her, he would fall in love with another female. He said that she would most certainly fall in love with him as well, for Ray was a wonderful man.
I thought he said a little too much, and that his blush and his avoidance of my gaze were quite interesting.
I started to notice things. (For one, that besides deaf I had been blind.) My Human was pining for his Other. He tried to hide it, and he did reasonably well. (Otherwise, his yearning wouldn’t have escaped my attention in the first place.)
He dreamt about Ray. I had noticed him dreaming before, but I never realized what the subject of his dreams was. Suddenly, his flustered look, the peculiar smell of his bedding in the morning and the haste with which he snatched it from his cot to change it made much more sense.
He was very discrete about his desire for Ray. Frankly, his discretion, his abstinence annoyed me a great deal.
Humans don’t use their front paws (hands) for walking. As a consequence, they don’t run very fast, but there are benefits to this conduct as well. The paws can be turned to other uses.
It was beyond me why my Human didn’t use his hands to relieve his sexual tension. They looked perfect for it, unlike his boots, which didn’t seem suited for humping at all. He never touched himself however, nor did he confide in his Other. All he had were his dreams.
I began to dislike him for his decision to abstain, and at some point, I lost my patience and told him he should stop dreaming his life away. He could have Ray if only he would tell him how he felt.
My Human, of course, begged to differ. It was, he said, by no means certain that Ray reciprocated his feelings.
I sighed. I knew my Human feared rejection more than anything but I also knew that this was a very irrational fear, especially where Ray was concerned. I had caught enough whiffs of Ray’s scent in the car to know he was very eager to be mounted. Good Lord, even a Cocker Spaniel could have sensed that much.
I told him so. I told him it was stupid to fear happiness. I told him—again—he should talk to Ray.
He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said miserably. “There is too much at stake.”
5. Laundry
Ray and I kept attending Ms. Kennedy’s class. I slowly ‘learnt’ to trust Ray.
We met Ms. Kennedy’s lover. I instantly took a dislike to him. Ray asked that nice civilian aid at the 27th precinct to ‘run’ the man’s name and she produced a matching ‘rap sheet’. Embezzlement seemed to be his core business.
After we had liaised after Mr. Duphar for an entire day, getting in and out the car, Ray started to talk about laundry. I didn’t understand, and fortunately, neither did my Human.
“Whitewashing, Fraser,” Ray said. “Those phoney bills that led us to that dog school in the first place. They’re his. He puts a couple in the till now and then, I suppose, but most of them he uses to buy his sweetheart expensive souvenirs from his travels to other countries. She thinks it’s love, but it’s just violating the law.”
“Perhaps it’s both,” my Human replied. He is a hopeless romantic.
Ms. Kennedy took the news of her lover’s apprehension with remarkable calm. She instantly took off the rings, the bracelet and the necklace she was wearing and stated that ‘she would get the rest’.
She came back with a large box. “I’ve never liked jewellery,” she said. “I never liked him now I come to think of it. I tolerated him on the condition that he didn’t meddle with my dogs.”
After a pause, she added, “I don’t like men. I prefer dogs. They’re much easier to understand.”
I couldn’t help but huff in assent.
6. Dating
One could say that in a way, my Human and his Other started dating the day they met. My Human asked the new Ray to have dinner with him, and as I came to understand, dining out together is very common behaviour among humans who are dating.
Until Ray sang Ms. Kennedy’s song and appeared embarrassed about it, I didn’t pay close attention to the way my Human and his Other behaved during their dinners. Most of the time I wouldn’t even be allowed inside the restaurant. Once I knew what to look for, however, I noticed that my Human and Ray’s behaviour was very similar to that of mixed—dating—couples. There were long looks, frequent smiles there was laughter.
Their demeanour was completely different from that of most other male couples at tables nearby. I learnt that males usually avert their eyes after holding gazes for as short as a mere second. They don’t smile at each other and when they laugh it is mostly at a dirty joke, preferably their own.
The agony was that my Human and his Other weren’t aware that they were dating. They seemed to think that their behaviour was perfectly common among friends.
My Human told me so during one of our discussions about the subject. “Despite my feelings for Ray,” he said, “I sincerely believe that my conduct towards him is that of a friend. As is his towards me. We have a valuable partnership, based on friendship and trust.”
For a moment, I felt elated. I thought he had said ‘lust’. But I misunderstood, of course. I think my Human should be officially declared ‘Master of Repression’.
I set my hopes on Ray, but he too disappointed me. I do not understand this tendency to settle for less out of fear not to get what one wants most. I have come to recognize that it is rather common in humans, but I find it an utterly incomprehensible characteristic.
It was truly beyond me why my Human and his Other didn’t do what felt good. Why didn’t my Human mount Ray? Why didn’t Ray request to be mounted?
Watching the two of them part glances and share smiles but not touch each other aggravated me. One night I decided to do something about it.
7. Matchmaking
When Ray dropped my Human and me off at the consulate, I blatantly refused to get out of the car. I couldn’t be forced, I couldn’t be begged, and I remained completely indifferent to my Human’s accusation that I was behaving childish. I just looked at him, offering to tell him in a few clear barks exactly what I thought of him.
“Shall I take him with me?” Ray suggested finally.
Predictably, my Human replied, “We mustn’t indulge him, Ray.”
Ray got out of the car and walked around it. When he was on the pavement, next to my Human, he stuck his head inside to lure me out of his vehicle.
“Come on, Dief,” he said. “It’s getting late. We all need to sleep now. I’ll bring a box of donuts when I come collect you in the morning.”
I pretended to be persuaded and got out. Ray quickly closed the door behind me. Perhaps he feared I would reconsider. He leaned against the door, which was very convenient to me.
My Human was standing in front of Ray, close and apparently mesmerized. (Like a true friend indeed. Whom was he fooling but himself? Perhaps Ray. They were both so incredible stupid.)
I stood behind him, jumped and pushed my paws against his back. He staggered and fell into Ray’s arms.
As I expected, my Human tensed and instantly tried to pull away. Pressing my muzzle against his rear, I prevented him from stepping back.
“Diefenbaker!”
From the movement of his body, I judged that he was shouting. I could only guess what came out of his mouth, but I had no doubt that I was right.
My Human didn’t give up easily, he kept trying to pull back, but I kept pushing him forward.
At some point he changed his strategy and moved away from my muzzle, which was excellent, because it meant he was moving closer to Ray. I waited, anticipating him tricking me if my concentration faltered.
But he didn’t move. I felt his body relax and press against his Other’s. When I looked up, I saw Ray’s hands roaming my Human’s back. My Human cocked his head to the right side, and I saw Ray’s yellow hair appear above his left shoulder.
From the movements of their heads I inferred they were licking (humans call it ‘kissing’) and I thought, ‘Thank God, they have seen reason.”
They kissed for quite a while, their movements becoming increasingly urgent. At some point, they started humping.
Soon after, however, they stopped and turned towards me. They both looked flustered, but Ray was wearing a happy smile while my Human seemed slightly miffed.
They told me to get back in the car. I complied. They got in as well, turning their heads towards me. My Human promised me a lecture on the impoliteness of meddling in the morning; Ray promised me donuts.
When he turned the car key and started to liaise us home, I mused that very little had changed, but I felt confident that my Humans’ view of their relationship would never be the same.
END
It is a seven part fic. The first and the last part aren’t challenge related; they are the wraps that enhance the coherence of the story (I hope). Parts 2 to 5 address five of the six challenges. With regard to the OC challenge I cut myself some slack. Strictly speaking, there is no Other Character is this fic. Many stories have featured this character, and his pov has been done before as well. Never by me, however, so to me he is in a way an OC.
Title: The things I do for love
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG-13
Size: about 4800 words
The things I do for love
1. Introduction
When stories are told, they usually have a clear start and ending, and preferably an interesting middle. It seems therefore germane that I begin with an introduction.
I first came to Chicago on the trail of his father’s killers and I remained for a very simple reason that I have no trouble to reveal at this juncture (I was never the scrupulous kind and I have nothing to hide). I stayed because he did.
We form a strong bond, my Human and I. We were both born and raised in the North West Territories. I saved his life and he claims he saved mine. He was exiled to Chicago, Illinois, the United States of America, and I came along. We both adjusted to living in the city. Or to put it in a better way: I learnt to love it, while he managed to bear it.
I sincerely believe that life would be far easier for him if he let go of his yearning for Pemmican, and switched to donuts. I have told him so on more than one occasion, but his categorical and rather cryptic response would be that “that wasn’t it.” My reply to this statement would be an incredulous huff, to which he would heave a sigh. Then we would sigh in unison. My Human is much too stubborn for his own good. I mean, has he ever tried a donut?
In this introduction, I feel I must also address his Others. Others are male Humans who work at the 27th Chicago police precinct in the capacity of detective and who liaise with my Human. Or the other way around, I’m not entirely sure. Liaising is a difficult concept for me to grasp. I do understand a few aspects of it, however.
First, it is something my Human’s superior officer doesn’t like him to be involved in. She doesn’t exactly forbid him to liaise (or to be liaised with), but I can clearly smell her regret when my Human leaves the consulate to get in his Other’s car.
This is another aspect about liaising that I understand; it involves driving around in cars, preferably old-fashioned ones. Sometimes my Human asks me to accompany him and his Other. I always grant him the favour. Others are nice people (it is not uncommon that they offer me donuts) and I like driving around in cars.
The official purpose of liaising, as I came to understand, is to solve crimes. Frankly, I don’t think it is a very efficient means to this end. Back in the Northwest Territories, my Human solved crimes on his own (with me as his companion) and not much time was spent in cars. For how can one smell a trace when one sits in a car? How can one lick suspicious objects (my Human’s equivalent of smelling traces) in the confined space of a vehicle? It makes no sense at all.
The personal benefit that liaising with Others has for my Human, is much clearer to me.
Even to human standards, my Human has a complex character. I didn’t realize this until we arrived in Chicago, but then there were many Humans to whom I could compare mine, and it was clear to me that he was Different. He didn’t fit in. In the Northwest Territories, he had been alone—without the company of other Humans—now he was lonely—depressed because of the deprivation of contact with specimens of his own species.
He lacked the skills to establish such contact and tried to solve the problem by undertaking idle attempts to convince himself he was in fact happy to be alone. He had always been content to be all by himself, so why would this be different now? I gave him a couple of reasons why, but he just scowled at me.
I believe I already mentioned his stubbornness.
Liaising with his Others eased my Human’s loneliness. Both Others were puzzled by him at first, but they learnt to appreciate him, the Airedale Terrier a little quicker than the Doberman.
They are of course humans, not dogs. Comparing them to dog breeds just makes it easier for me to refer to them as two different Others. Mentioning them by their given names won’t do, because they are both called Ray.
The first Ray reminded me of a Doberman Pinscher. Dobermans are elegant creatures, and although I don’t know for certain whether the first Ray was considered elegant to human standards, I recall that he often spoke of the importance of style and wearing the right clothes.
Dobermans are also extremely protective, and a fine example of the first Ray’s protectiveness became apparent during (or rather at the end of) the Incident with the Human Bitch.
She was a criminal, but nonetheless my Human fell in love with her. He turned her in to the police and she spent several years in prison. This was in the Northwest Territories. After she was released, she came to Chicago, still very much a criminal. The Doberman sensed this (or just didn’t like her), but my Human fell for her again (or perhaps he had never ceased to do so).
She tried to entice him to choose her side of the law, and he would have given in and paid with his life, if the Doberman hadn’t shot him. I think he meant to shoot her, but that is beside the point. Someone wanted to harm my Human, and the first Ray defended him with a fierceness a Doberman worthy. (I would have bitten her throat had I been given the chance, but that is beside the point as well.)
A third similarity between a Doberman Pinscher and the first Ray is their need to be with family. The first Ray shared his home with his mother, his two sisters and his brother in law. This is uncommon for an adult human, as I came to understand, but he seemed quite happy with the situation. I don’t think his living arrangements were the reason he moved to another state.
The second Ray is of a different breed, so to speak. He is more of an Airedale Terrier. Like an Airedale, he needs to feel loved and respected. So much in fact, that he cannot to let go of his ex-wife emotionally. Whenever they meet—which is quite often because he is a police detective and she is an assistant state’s attorney—he tries to extract some crumbs of affection from her. Obviously, his endeavours have the opposite effect: the Airedale’s behaviour annoys his ex-wife a great deal.
Also, like an Airedale, the second Ray likes to please others unless there are more pressing matters at hand. He once had the chance to retaliate against a man who humiliated him when he was a youngster. No one could stop him, not even my Human. Not even while the 27th precinct was in dire straits as Internal Affairs deemed it necessary to investigate the division, because a prisoner declared that the first Ray—and by extension all of his colleagues, including the lieutenant—was corrupt. The second Ray was desperately needed to stand in for his predecessor, but he had other priorities. The entire day, he waited at the graveyard for his enemy to turn up.
Finally, he met the demon from his past, who appeared to have forgotten all about him. There was no chance for retaliation after all, but the encounter was cathartic to the Airedale nonetheless. Moreover, he was back at the station in time to save the first Ray and the rest of the precinct.
A third case in point is that of the shared dominance issues. Airedale Terriers tend to challenge the position of the alpha dog; the second Ray tends to challenge the position of my Human. Once he even hit my Human. With some delay that, frankly, I thought highly unbecoming an alpha, my Human hit him back. They maintained the equilibrium, but it was fragile.
I feel that I have now sufficiently introduced the characters that played an important part in my recent undertaking. The Doberman Pinscher will only be referred to in a haphazard fashion. I deemed it right to mention him in the introduction because he was my Human’s best friend for three years, and because without him, my Human and the Airedale Terrier would never have met.
I will continue by revealing the details of my adventure.
2. Undercover
When they asked me to go undercover, I wasn’t pleased. As I had come to understand, ‘undercover’ meant ‘away’. My Human had gone undercover twice, once at a mental institution, and once at a girl’s Catholic school. In both instances, I hadn’t seen him for days.
When my Human and I returned from our holiday in the Northwest Territories last year, we found that the Doberman had disappeared. It turned out that he had gone undercover to Las Vegas. To me, it was clear that ‘undercover’ and ‘away’ were synonyms, although it puzzled me that my Human insisted the Airedale Terrier was undercover as well, for he was very much ‘here’ and not away at all.
When they explained it to me, I understood that being away is just a minor aspect of being undercover. Being undercover means that for a certain amount of time one pretends to be what one is not, in order to gain information that is difficult or impossible to attain otherwise.
The Airedale Terrier is only undercover in the second degree: he fills the void the Doberman left in order not to raise suspicion. The Doberman is genuinely undercover: he pretends to be a member of the mafia to obtain information about criminal activities.
I was asked to pretend to be an Artic Timber wolf/Siberian Husky hybrid (I didn’t understand the pretend bit of that) with a behavioural problem (I thought it would be nice to see how great an actor I was.)
The Airedale—well, this is going to be confusing perhaps—the second Ray would act as my owner. The decision was based on the fact that the main suspect of the crime under investigation was a female of about forty, and that the second Ray, with his great charm, would be able to make her confide in him.
I didn’t understand. My Human’s charm may be very different from his Other’s, when it comes to the opposite sex, it is infinitely more effective. Human bitches cannot seem to keep their paws (‘hands’) off my Human. It scares him to pieces.
I don’t like human bitches very much. They are not as generous with donuts as the males, but more importantly, they are vicious. If they wouldn’t like the smell of fear so much, surely they wouldn’t stand so close to my Human.
Generally, I don’t like human bitches, but I’m very fond of one particular civilian aid at the 27th precinct. She touches my Human even more than any other female does, and he isn’t less afraid of her than he is of other bitches, but I don’t think he is in any real danger with her. Her attempts to win him over are too obvious. He will never yield to her (although he is known to run from her on occasion.)
With regard to other bitches, I am not certain. He may give in at one time just to find some peace, to have someone tell others to keep their paws off him. For an alpha male, his demeanour is incredibly meek when it comes to females.
I realized that this could be the reason the second Ray would act as my owner. Perhaps they thought my Human would be too nervous to make good use of his charm upon meeting the suspect.
3. School
“I’m taking you to school,” Ray told me, while I licked the crumbs of a donut from my muzzle.
I thought schools were for children, but Ray explained that he would take me to a ‘dog school’ where my ‘behavioural problem’ would be addressed. My task would be to misbehave and to keep my eyes open.
My stage name would be Abraham, the tag on my new collar said so. There was a little recording camera hidden in it.
The owner of the dog school reminded me of a Christmas tree with the amount of jewellery she was wearing, but she was a very nice female, and she instantly noticed my descent.
“Oh, what a beautiful hybrid you are,” she cooed. “The son of an Arctic Timber Wolf and a Siberian Husky, aren’t you?”
I smiled at her, but Ray said, “I…He…Abraham was a present from a friend who imported him from Canada. He is rather aggressive. I can’t seem to make him listen to me.”
For good measure, I bared my teeth and growled. The female wasn’t impressed.
“Ooh, you are quite an actor!” she said. Which meant, of course, that I was a very bad one.
She looked at Ray and stated briskly, “You must be doing something wrong, sir. Come along.”
The female—Ms. Kennedy—walked us across the compound and it turned out that besides a dog school, there was a shop for dog supplies as well as a breeding farm for German Shepherds. Ms. Kennedy really must love dogs, I thought.
Ray and I were assigned to ‘behavioural problem’ class. The attending canines—all mature and mostly of larger breeds—were barking and growling fiercely and I went along. I was supposed to be a bad dog, wasn’t I?
I watched Ms. Kennedy have conversations with each separate human-dog pair (there were five, including Ray and me). First she addressed the dog, holding its gaze like a true Top Dog and telling it ‘no’ in an authoritarian voice when it growled at her. She continued this until it calmed down. Then she made it sit and turned to its owner, explaining that even in mature dogs, most problematic behaviour could be corrected, provided this was done with a lot of patience and unwavering consistency.
She told each owner, “Make your dog stay calm and seated by using your voice and your gaze. Don’t avert your eyes until your dog obeys.” Then she moved to the next pair.
Finally, she came to Ray and me.
“For hybrids like Abraham things are a little different than for dogs,” she said. “If he wasn’t properly raised it wouldn’t be of much use to have him attend this class.” She smiled. “Fortunately, I don’t think that’s the case. I think he is just challenging you. You need to find a balance between not being toyed with and earning his trust.”
Ray have her a helpless ‘How on earth am I going to do that?’ look and I growled at him. I didn’t trust him, did I?
When Ms. Kennedy told me ‘no’, I obeyed instantly and sat. I liked her. I wanted her to be right about me. It was Ray I didn’t trust.
Mrs. Kennedy walked off and when I looked at Ray, he clearly pronounced the word ‘bastard’.
I huffed. He was wrong. I am not of dubious origin. I’m a hybrid.
After class, when the other humans and dogs had left, Ray tried his charm on Ms. Kennedy. She didn’t seem very impressed. When he complimented her on the jewellery she was wearing, she told him in a matter-of-fact tone that the pieces were gifts from her lover, a businessman who frequently went abroad.
I noticed that the information interested Ray, but he changed the subject and inquired about the ins and outs of dog breeding.
Ms. Kennedy clearly liked dog breeding, but at some point—when Ray assumed that there would be a lot of money involved in the business to be exact—she stopped talking and said to Ray, “I have a feeling you’re here to ask me something else.”
Ray gave her a broad smile, but she just seemed to wait for him to tell her what it was he wanted from her.
“I was wondering…,” he said, “I was wondering if I could leave Abraham with you for a couple of days. I will pay you of course. It’s just that I…I am a painter and I can’t concentrate on my work when he’s around. I need quiet.”
Ms. Kennedy eyed him suspiciously, and I didn’t blame her. “You’re not planning on abandoning him, are you?”
With the right amount of indignation, Ray quickly reassured her that he would never do such a thing.
“If you leave him here, you will postpone his learning to trust you,” Ms. Kennedy said.
“I’m aware of that,” Ray told her. “But I really need to finish this painting. Please?”
He smiled and even batted his eyelashes at her, but she averted her eyes and looked at me. “What do you think, Abraham? Would you like to stay with me for a while?”
I barked in assent. She petted my head and said, “All right then.”
I think she was more impressed with my charm than with Ray’s.
4. Dream
My days at Ms. Kennedy’s compound weren’t very eventful. The most memorable (and unfortunate) incident was that I learnt a song.
I am deaf but I can lip read. Human speech has no secrets for me. Facial expressions can be very revealing as well, and so can the movements of the throat, for I wasn’t born deaf. Sometimes I wish I were, though.
Ms. Kennedy taught me her favourite song, a truly horrible one. Its content was neurotic, its lyrics saccharine and its melody tacky. She sang it all day, and she made me pay close attention. I wanted to run, but that would have been rude (and I’m a Canadian just as much as my Human is.)
When Ray came to collect me, I needed all my strength to hide my glee.
The humans were rather disappointed about the footage my camera recorded. It consisted mainly of Ms. Kennedy’s kneeling body while she was singing to me.
The song seemed contagious however, and that in itself was educational.
When my Human, his Other and I were liaising through the streets of Chicago, I saw in the rear view mirror that Ray was singing under his breath. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped, glancing askance at my Human, a blush creeping up his cheeks. (When humans blush, when their faces color red, it means they are caught doing something embarrassing, either by themselves or by others.)
I assumed Ms. Kennedy’s song had some special meaning to Ray, and I didn’t deem it likely that his embarrassment was related to his ex-wife. He had never been embarrassed about his feelings for her, so why would he start now?
Apparently, his embarrassment had something to do with my Human, and I thought it was very interesting.
I love my Human. He often drives me crazy, but I do love him. I want to see him happy, and I have always felt that having a human companion, a human mate, would greatly enhance his happiness. His last encounter with the one human bitch he ever loved was a disaster however, and instilled in him a great fear for females.
I concluded that for reasons of practicality, perhaps it would be best if my Human focussed on his Other. Chances were that Ray would be very happy to be his mate, and I decided speak to my Human about it as soon as we were alone.
He wasn’t amused. He said that it was none of my business. He said Ray was still in love with his ex-wife. He said that once Ray had overcome his feelings for her, he would fall in love with another female. He said that she would most certainly fall in love with him as well, for Ray was a wonderful man.
I thought he said a little too much, and that his blush and his avoidance of my gaze were quite interesting.
I started to notice things. (For one, that besides deaf I had been blind.) My Human was pining for his Other. He tried to hide it, and he did reasonably well. (Otherwise, his yearning wouldn’t have escaped my attention in the first place.)
He dreamt about Ray. I had noticed him dreaming before, but I never realized what the subject of his dreams was. Suddenly, his flustered look, the peculiar smell of his bedding in the morning and the haste with which he snatched it from his cot to change it made much more sense.
He was very discrete about his desire for Ray. Frankly, his discretion, his abstinence annoyed me a great deal.
Humans don’t use their front paws (hands) for walking. As a consequence, they don’t run very fast, but there are benefits to this conduct as well. The paws can be turned to other uses.
It was beyond me why my Human didn’t use his hands to relieve his sexual tension. They looked perfect for it, unlike his boots, which didn’t seem suited for humping at all. He never touched himself however, nor did he confide in his Other. All he had were his dreams.
I began to dislike him for his decision to abstain, and at some point, I lost my patience and told him he should stop dreaming his life away. He could have Ray if only he would tell him how he felt.
My Human, of course, begged to differ. It was, he said, by no means certain that Ray reciprocated his feelings.
I sighed. I knew my Human feared rejection more than anything but I also knew that this was a very irrational fear, especially where Ray was concerned. I had caught enough whiffs of Ray’s scent in the car to know he was very eager to be mounted. Good Lord, even a Cocker Spaniel could have sensed that much.
I told him so. I told him it was stupid to fear happiness. I told him—again—he should talk to Ray.
He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said miserably. “There is too much at stake.”
5. Laundry
Ray and I kept attending Ms. Kennedy’s class. I slowly ‘learnt’ to trust Ray.
We met Ms. Kennedy’s lover. I instantly took a dislike to him. Ray asked that nice civilian aid at the 27th precinct to ‘run’ the man’s name and she produced a matching ‘rap sheet’. Embezzlement seemed to be his core business.
After we had liaised after Mr. Duphar for an entire day, getting in and out the car, Ray started to talk about laundry. I didn’t understand, and fortunately, neither did my Human.
“Whitewashing, Fraser,” Ray said. “Those phoney bills that led us to that dog school in the first place. They’re his. He puts a couple in the till now and then, I suppose, but most of them he uses to buy his sweetheart expensive souvenirs from his travels to other countries. She thinks it’s love, but it’s just violating the law.”
“Perhaps it’s both,” my Human replied. He is a hopeless romantic.
Ms. Kennedy took the news of her lover’s apprehension with remarkable calm. She instantly took off the rings, the bracelet and the necklace she was wearing and stated that ‘she would get the rest’.
She came back with a large box. “I’ve never liked jewellery,” she said. “I never liked him now I come to think of it. I tolerated him on the condition that he didn’t meddle with my dogs.”
After a pause, she added, “I don’t like men. I prefer dogs. They’re much easier to understand.”
I couldn’t help but huff in assent.
6. Dating
One could say that in a way, my Human and his Other started dating the day they met. My Human asked the new Ray to have dinner with him, and as I came to understand, dining out together is very common behaviour among humans who are dating.
Until Ray sang Ms. Kennedy’s song and appeared embarrassed about it, I didn’t pay close attention to the way my Human and his Other behaved during their dinners. Most of the time I wouldn’t even be allowed inside the restaurant. Once I knew what to look for, however, I noticed that my Human and Ray’s behaviour was very similar to that of mixed—dating—couples. There were long looks, frequent smiles there was laughter.
Their demeanour was completely different from that of most other male couples at tables nearby. I learnt that males usually avert their eyes after holding gazes for as short as a mere second. They don’t smile at each other and when they laugh it is mostly at a dirty joke, preferably their own.
The agony was that my Human and his Other weren’t aware that they were dating. They seemed to think that their behaviour was perfectly common among friends.
My Human told me so during one of our discussions about the subject. “Despite my feelings for Ray,” he said, “I sincerely believe that my conduct towards him is that of a friend. As is his towards me. We have a valuable partnership, based on friendship and trust.”
For a moment, I felt elated. I thought he had said ‘lust’. But I misunderstood, of course. I think my Human should be officially declared ‘Master of Repression’.
I set my hopes on Ray, but he too disappointed me. I do not understand this tendency to settle for less out of fear not to get what one wants most. I have come to recognize that it is rather common in humans, but I find it an utterly incomprehensible characteristic.
It was truly beyond me why my Human and his Other didn’t do what felt good. Why didn’t my Human mount Ray? Why didn’t Ray request to be mounted?
Watching the two of them part glances and share smiles but not touch each other aggravated me. One night I decided to do something about it.
7. Matchmaking
When Ray dropped my Human and me off at the consulate, I blatantly refused to get out of the car. I couldn’t be forced, I couldn’t be begged, and I remained completely indifferent to my Human’s accusation that I was behaving childish. I just looked at him, offering to tell him in a few clear barks exactly what I thought of him.
“Shall I take him with me?” Ray suggested finally.
Predictably, my Human replied, “We mustn’t indulge him, Ray.”
Ray got out of the car and walked around it. When he was on the pavement, next to my Human, he stuck his head inside to lure me out of his vehicle.
“Come on, Dief,” he said. “It’s getting late. We all need to sleep now. I’ll bring a box of donuts when I come collect you in the morning.”
I pretended to be persuaded and got out. Ray quickly closed the door behind me. Perhaps he feared I would reconsider. He leaned against the door, which was very convenient to me.
My Human was standing in front of Ray, close and apparently mesmerized. (Like a true friend indeed. Whom was he fooling but himself? Perhaps Ray. They were both so incredible stupid.)
I stood behind him, jumped and pushed my paws against his back. He staggered and fell into Ray’s arms.
As I expected, my Human tensed and instantly tried to pull away. Pressing my muzzle against his rear, I prevented him from stepping back.
“Diefenbaker!”
From the movement of his body, I judged that he was shouting. I could only guess what came out of his mouth, but I had no doubt that I was right.
My Human didn’t give up easily, he kept trying to pull back, but I kept pushing him forward.
At some point he changed his strategy and moved away from my muzzle, which was excellent, because it meant he was moving closer to Ray. I waited, anticipating him tricking me if my concentration faltered.
But he didn’t move. I felt his body relax and press against his Other’s. When I looked up, I saw Ray’s hands roaming my Human’s back. My Human cocked his head to the right side, and I saw Ray’s yellow hair appear above his left shoulder.
From the movements of their heads I inferred they were licking (humans call it ‘kissing’) and I thought, ‘Thank God, they have seen reason.”
They kissed for quite a while, their movements becoming increasingly urgent. At some point, they started humping.
Soon after, however, they stopped and turned towards me. They both looked flustered, but Ray was wearing a happy smile while my Human seemed slightly miffed.
They told me to get back in the car. I complied. They got in as well, turning their heads towards me. My Human promised me a lecture on the impoliteness of meddling in the morning; Ray promised me donuts.
When he turned the car key and started to liaise us home, I mused that very little had changed, but I felt confident that my Humans’ view of their relationship would never be the same.
END