The Missing Bone Caper

Life’s tough out on the streets but I didn’t mind it. It’s the livin’ rough that made me tough and that’s how come I got this great job.

Let me introduce myself: I’m Henry the Hammer and I’m the poodle who does all the doggone dirty work in this here two biscuit town called Playas de Rosarito in Baja, Mexico. I protect the Big Lady and help the local smaller critters when they need someone on their side.

I’m not too tall, just eleven inches at the shoulder, but I got a few moves that’ll make a bigger guy flinch, and I mean flinch bad. Fer’instance, it’ll take a mastiff down if a guy like me can get a tight hold on an ear or one of those under the belly parts, you get it . . . right? I’m fast and I’m mean when I’m crossed.

Sure, maybe Mom was a poodle and my Pops only a midnight-stranger-passing-through I never met, and Mom don’t remember, but don’t let my soft fur and warm brown eyes lead you wrong. The Big Lady got me off the streets and I learned a thing or two when I was a mere pup. I got a tough disposition, and they don’t call me Henry the Hammer for nothin’ even though I changed the streets for the big patio I live on now. My job is to take care ‘a the house, the Big Lady, and the other dogs. I take my job real serious.

Right now, I got a case I’m on, and it ain’t an easy one for me as I’m takin’ it personal like. It involves my girl, you know, Daisy the Doll, the blonde Maltese Poodle cross with the soft fur and the sweetie-pie eyes. I’m a real push over for Daisy and she knows I’ll do anything for her.

This is one ‘o those times. Seems she was with the Big Lady, and someone came in our patio swiped one a’ her special bones. You know the kind, like a big beef bone with all the gristle still on it. Anyway, she goes into the house for just a second, the Big Lady called her so she goes, Daisy’s a good girl and does what she’s told and that’s another reason I’m so hot for her.

As soon as she gets back to her patio, she looks for the bone, and it’s nowhere in sight. I come out of the house and she’s sitting there looking all softy and cuddly and crying her eyes out. Like the sucker I am, I ask what’s wrong. That’s my first mistake.

“Oh, Henry, I’m so glad you’re home. I need your big strong help and your great brain. My bone was out here just a few minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Who do you think could have stolen it?”

It’s the brown eyes and the cashmere blonde fur. I can’t take it; I’m a goner when she looks at me. “Don’t worry my little Biscuit Treat, I’ll take care of this matter for you right away.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m the neighborhood sleuth, and I ain’t got a clue who took her bone, but to get on the right side of that little lady, I’m ready to do anything.

First I survey the crime scene. Looks like the patio on any normal day to me, chairs and tables as usual, fountain bubbling, plants all over the place, barbecue. After all, it is Mexico. As I peruse the premises, I find a footprint like I’ve never seen before. It’s big, webbed and funny looking. I call for my earnest assistant, Lorenzo. He’s a Yorkiepoo and not much in the way of muscle at only eight pounds, but he’s got a mean sniffer on him and can scent out a clue a mile away.

“What’s up boss? Can I do anything for you? Can I? Yeah, can I?” He’s always eager, maybe too eager, but that’s what I like about terriers, they’re always ready to go.

Now I can’t tell him too much ‘cause I know he’s got the hots for Miss Daisy too. If he knows I’m on a case for her, he’ll try and solve it and grab all the glory to make himself look good. I got’ta play this close to the leash and not give too much away.

“Yeah, I’m doing a little investigation about the patio, seems there’s some new prints here I never seen before. Look at that wet mark over there, look familiar to you? See if you can smell somethin’.”

So Lorenzo, he walks over to the print and sure enough starts the sniffer going. I see he’s got a puzzled look on his face, but he’s canvassing the area like a good boy.

“Hey boss, I think I got a scent, but it smells like some of the food the Big Lady feeds us. You know, the one with the potatoes in it. And look, I found some ugly yellow stuff over here that smells like corn.”

I take a gander, and the little guy’s right. Then I see the big basin of water. There’s water splashed all around it and I don’t have a clue how it got there, but there’s some nasty yellow stuff floating in it. I look closer. These little round hard yellow pieces, that’s corn! Who’s eating corn in water on our patio?

Then I see it! Bigger than a breadbox and quiet as can be, it’s sitting on the edge of the fountain and I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it before. Black and white it is, big, long orange beak and it’s givin’ me the stink eye. What is it? Doesn’t seem to have fur, just these long, stiff lookin’ things all over it. It’s very quiet, not moving, just sittin’ on the edge of the fountain. I go a little closer to see if it’s alive or some new fancy statue the Big Lady brought home.

It’s still not moving so I go up to it real quiet like, don’t want to freak it out or nothin’. I get close enough to sniff its feet. Sure enough they’re big orange webbed things, the kind would’a made the prints I saw. By gosh, I know what it is, it’s a duck! Just as I get close enough to bite it to see if it’s real, it makes a sound I can only imagine in my nightmares. Sort of a hiss and a squawk combined and it makes my hair curl more than it is already.

To say I back off is the understatement of the month. The little guy, Lorenzo was sneakin’ up next to me but I don’t notice him until I hear that sound. How could I miss seeing him then, the little guy takes off straight up in the air like he’s shot from a gun and his ears fly out to the sides like sails. I never saw anyone so scared as he is, and just from a sound!

Anyways, we both keep our distance, and it’s a good thing ‘cause the duck opens its wings with a flap and a whoosh. It’s got a span like one o’ them huge things I see in the sky that take people to faraway places. I know ‘cause I been to the airport place to say goodbye to the Big Lady. If I’d been closer I could ‘a got smothered in those big wings. And the noise it’s makin’! It’s hissin’ and squawkin’ and squawkin’ and hissin’ and Lorenzo and me, we decide to get out’ta the way quick like and take cover before it decides to get mean.

And then I see it. When those wings open wide, there, by its feet is the bone of my love, my darling, my Daisy. The monster took her bone and I didn’t forgive that, but how do I get it back is the question?

Then I decide, I need a distraction. Lorenzo’s lookin’ at me with his little doggy eyes wide open, but I won’t let nothin’ stand between me and makin’ my Daisy happy. I pick the little guy up by the scruff of the neck and spin him towards the monster duck, who really lets out a huge squawk this time. Its wings and feathers all standing up and angry like; it makes a dive to peck at Lorenzo.

But that little guy is fast; I’ll give him that. No sooner does he hit the ground then he’s runnin’ for his life with the monster duck on his cropped little tail. I make a run for the fountain, grab the bone while the duck is otherwise engaged and heft it off to my love, my Daisy girl, who I see is watching the whole proceedings through the door to the patio. Hey, so I puff my chest out a little more than usual and make sure the sun is hitting my black coat to make it shine as I add a little more swagger to my walk and show her the bone.

It’s the look in her eyes that’s more reward than I can ask for. Her soft blonde moustache quivers with joy as I push the door open with my paw and present her with her bone. Of course, I ignore the howls and hisses, the sound of fleeing paws and flapping duck feet coming from the patio behind me. Lorenzo can take care of himself, after all, he’s part terrier and should be tough.

The little guy tears round the corner with a couple ‘a long white feathers in his mouth, pursued by an irate duck, who actually manages to waddle quite fast and is even more irritated when it sees the bone is gone. I go inside to leave the hissing and barking to its own resolution.

When I get the whole story, I find my lovely blonde girl’s been eating the duck’s corn in water and the duck retaliates by taking her bone, which it seems to have taken a shine to. Like all clients, she hadn’t told me the whole story, but I forgive her anyway.

Later in the evening, I’m lying on the chaise in the patio with my girl snuggled by my side. Just for drill, I look to see where my little pal Lorenzo is. Not that I want to rub in the fact Daisy’s with me, but he’s a good buddy and I want to make sure he came out OK in his little contretemps with el Ducko. He’s nowhere to be found but the duck is back on the fountain looking asleep and not moving again.

I hear a little snore and small woofs as the duck spreads its wings in a goodnight stretch. There’s Lorenzo cuddled up against the duck all cozy and warm under its wing. He looks at me and shrugs as she closes her wings over him once more.

Guess it’s good nighttime for all ‘a us critters livin’ on the patio down Mexico way. Case closed.

(I’m an American writer living in Baja, Mexico with four poodles or poodle crosses. One of my favorite pastimes is using the dogs as characters in my stories. Henry, a small black poodle is my favorite detective. I see him as a hard-boiled Mickey Spillane type private eye. A tough guy from the streets with a heart of gold. I hope you enjoy my stories, and if you have a small laugh or at least a smile, I would appreciate a heart.)