The Wicked Flea

and More LIVER?
    Times best-seller list, here I come!
    Anyway, in Ceci’s case, the observation about elderly people waking early was true, and she’d mentioned that her dog group began to gather in the park at dawn, so I felt free to call her and accept the invitation to accompany her. I offered to drive and consequently needed room for Quest, whose monumental size would mean that I’d have space in the back of the Bronco for Rowdy or Kimi but not both. I hate to bad-mouth my own dogs, but strictly between us, it’s often hard to estimate which one will act worse in a particular situation, especially when the situation involves anything remotely akin to sharing a prized possession, such as food, water, space in our car, or, for that matter, the God-given dominion of the Alaskan malamute over every other creature in the solar system. When it comes to dog aggression, a rule of thumb—rule of dew claw?—is that same-sex dogs are more likely to fight than are dogs of opposite sexes. But Kimi makes her own rules, which stipulate, in essence, that she’s the one who does. Rule. The universe.
    In brief, my intuition advised that Rowdy would behave slightly better than Kimi. To protect Rowdy from the hideous sight of a male Newfoundland occupying space in his car, I removed the metal travel crates from the Bronco and incarcerated Rowdy in a blessedly opaque Vari-Kennel. Furthermore, Ceci and I wisely abided by a second rule of dew claw, the one that says to introduce dogs on neutral turf. Rowdy and Quest met a few houses down the street from Ceci’s rather than in Rowdy’s precious, if ancient and dented, Bronco.
    The moment Rowdy saw the monumental black Newfie, he obviously came to an important decision, which was that Quest did not exist. After a single initial glance, Rowdy stared right through the big dog. Inside his Vari-Kennel on the drive to the park, Rowdy didn’t growl, rumble, or fuss at Quest’s proximity. Why protest the presence of a dog who wasn’t there? Even a dog whose weight had practically broken my arms and back when I’d half lifted him into the car? When we arrived at the park and took both dogs out of the Bronco, Rowdy surveyed the scene with his usual curiosity. Clear Creek Park, I should mention, was not some stingy patch of vegetation, but a generous area of perhaps thirty or forty acres that included open fields and dense woodland. Now, Rowdy scanned the blacktop parking lot, the tennis courts, a playground, a large wooded area in the distance, the cloudless sky, and a vast playing field, its grass still green, where four people in bright parkas huddled together near a group of frolicking dogs. He took in absolutely everything except Quest. Etiquette provides a term for this extreme form of snubbing. As I recall, it’s known as the cut direct.
    “Oh, I do think that our boys are going to be dear friends,” Ceci gushed. As always, she was carefully made up and becomingly dressed. Her champagne-colored jacket had a hood trimmed with what she had assured me at stupefying length was artificial fur. Although I’d heard all about her devotion to Newfoundlands, I suddenly realized that one source of her attraction to the breed was the startling contrast between her pale daintiness and the breed’s dark monumentality. “Rowdy has been very good with Quest, hasn’t he? Good boy, Rowdy! You can always tell when dogs form friendships, can’t you! You can see it in their eyes. Rowdy, you’ve taken a real liking to Quest, haven’t you? What a good dog! Oh, there’s Noah. He’s the round little man, and those four brown shepherd mixes are his, all from shelters, he’s such a noble soul, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Jonna, isn’t that cute?”
    It seemed to me that the hour, seven-thirty A.M., was too damned early for cute, especially canine cute, but I was delighted to hear the enthusiasm in Ceci’s voice. Althea had spoken to me in private about her worry that Ceci felt obliged to spend most of her time at home. Althea actually liked to have her sister go out, not only because Althea didn’t want to be a burden, but because Ceci’s unending chitchat grated on Althea’s nerves. Now, making her way eagerly toward the group of dogs and people, Ceci picked up her pace and tried to cajole Quest to do the same. “Sweetheart! Let’s go play with our friends! Let’s go!” she enjoined loudly. Quest raised his tremendous head a bit and may have picked up his lumbering pace a trifle, but