It was Friday night and the evening air was as heavy as a rain soaked shroud. My gal and I unlocked the door and right away we knew something was out of place. The light from the railroad tracks beyond the fence shone through the line of windows, making the inside of our living room look like one of those noir movies where you see dark lines of shadow crossing the interior of a room.
It looked like some county jail. The main inmate stared at us as we walked in from his perch on the well-worn futon. At his feet we shards of plastic from CD cases, destroyed DVD boxes, and the remainder of a Fruit Loops box that I had planned to empty later into a bowl and eat in front of him. .
He just smiled that smile that says it all – “Yeah I did it and I’d do it again.”
My gal, my mol, the Bonnie to my Clyde flicked on the kitchen light. And there it was. The evidence we have been looking for.
From the front door through the hallway and into kitchen were the shredded remains of a 30-pound bag of dog food, destroyed Amazon.com boxes, and crushed clear plastic candy containers shaped like Christmas ornaments.
“Bill, oh Bill Look what they did,” my gal said.
“Don’t worry baby we’ll figure this out,” I said as I pulled her to my side to comfort her from the doggy devastation.
“There’s not much to figure out,” she said pulling away from me. “You went back to work and now the dogs are upset.”
“Easy,” I said. “We need to investigate this and interview these mugs before we jump to conclusions. We go where the evidence leads.”
My gal got all four dogs in the kitchen. Sitting there on the white ceramic tile floor with the overhead light burning it wouldn’t be long until they spoke.
“Okay who did this?” I asked.
They were all dummying up on me.
“Who did this?” I asked again, only this time I shouted. “I’m getting nowhere baby.”
“I’ll get ‘em to talk,” she said.
My gal picked up a piece of the ripped bag and put it in front of the pooch lineup. Three of dogs didn’t react, but the biggest one Harry looked away as if he had never seen it before. If he could’ve, he would’ve nervously whistled.
“Ah ha,” my gal said. “He’s guilty.”
I couldn’t argue. Her interviewing skills were far superior to mine for getting to the root of canine criminality.
As we went to bed we could hear all four of them grinding their teeth as if there were left over pieces of cardboard in their gums.
I can’t swear to it, but I think the cutest Pearl was smiling as she licked her lips.
Harry seemed like he was laughing.