Barking and entering

SHERWOOD KIRALY

Patti Jo, Katie and I took off a few weeks ago and were out of the

country for nine days. It was the first time we’d all left home since

we got Booker, our year-old Welshie, so it was quite a joke on him.

Welsh springer spaniels are known as Velcro dogs. When one of us

leaves the house, Booker gets worried. If two of us leave, he gets

depressed. If three of us go to dinner -- well, we don’t know what he

does. But when we come back he’s where we left him, facing the door.

While we were gone, Patti Jo’s assistant Kristen-Paige, a graduate

student, and our friend Fran Finley were tag-team housesitters.

Booker apparently handled the first few days all right, but as time

went on and we didn’t come back, he became increasingly unruly. He

wouldn’t fetch his squeaky ball; he tore up his stuffed animals; he

chewed up a pooper-scooper and a tube of toothpaste, and the day

before our scheduled return, he disappeared.

I had left Kristen-Paige a note indicating when to feed and walk

Booker and I had told her about his tendency to climb out of our

backyard. But I neglected to mention that he might also be able to

wriggle through our neighbors’ cat door and into their house, so when

he got out the back screen and vanished, she could only assume he’d

gone over the hill.

After calling herself hoarse, Kristen-Paige drove around the

neighborhood, looking for Booker. He could have gone in any direction

-- to Alta Laguna Park, to Top of the World ... to the airport, like

a movie dog, to follow us. She had to be picturing our faces when she

told us that Booker was run over or eaten or just plain gone.

As she searched the neighborhood, Booker toured our neighbors’

house -- empty at the time except for their Chihuahua, Twiggy, who

watched Booker as he ate the children’s remaining Easter candy.

Returning to our house, Kristen-Paige went out back and somewhat

hopelessly called Booker once more. And lo, he appeared, having left

Twiggy behind to take the rap for the missing candy. By now his

conscience had closed down altogether and all Kristen-Paige could do

was get him in the house, lock all the doors and wait for relief.

Booker wagged wildly when we came in the door, in that gratifying

way dogs have. To hear him tell it, he’d been a good boy the whole

time. He forgave us completely for going to dinner and not coming

back for nine days.

Kristen-Paige may not forgive us as quickly for failing to mention

the neighbors’ cat door; she may have aged too much on that drive

around the neighborhood. She’s already a published fiction writer, so

perhaps one day we’ll read a book about a family, a seemingly kind,

non-satanic family, that traps a young woman in a house with Cujo Jr.

* SHERWOOD KIRALY is a Laguna Beach resident. He has written four

novels, three of which were critically acclaimed.