It's A Dog's Life

by Henry (as told to Erika, David & Roz)

Henry walked along street, carefully avoiding the heavy traffic on the highway. Suddenly he spotted a white truck with cages on the back. Uh-oh! Looks like the pound is gearing up for another open house--better make myself scarce. He looked about, the only cover he saw was a BIG house. He quickly ducked through the bushes and made his way to the back of the house and looked around. It was a strange house, with concrete instead of grass but Henry thought no more about it. It was hot and the door stoop was shady. "Hmmm...big floppy ears...black nose and dark spots...yeah, I can blend in here. Might as well take a nap until the coast is clear."

He was awakened out of a sound sleep by a man in uniform. "Please tell me this guy is a head waiter." But it turned out to be just a mailman.

"Well, puppy, did they forget and leave you outside?" said the mailman, cautiously. He put his hand out slowly for Henry to sniff. “I’m Frank”

"Hi, Frank. You smell like envelopes," thought Henry, amused, as he politely sniffed the offered hand.

"I’m filling in for Fred."

"Wouldn’t happen to be delivering any edibles, would you?"

"Poor guy, bet you’re thirsty too," he said and looked around for a dish or a bowl to hold some water.

"No, I’ve just been walking around for hours in ninety degree heat. But don’t worry about me...(pant)...really, I’ll be fine...(pant, pant, pant)...what’s a little heat stroke between friends?"

He continued to search, but had no luck finding even a bucket outside. "Hmmmm...I wonder if...." Frank lifted up the doormat to find a key, "AH HA!" he said gleefully, and unlocked the door holding it open."

Henry just looked at him. "Excuse me, isn’t this breaking and entering?"

"Go on in, pup," said Frank. "Come on girl, aren’t you thirsty?"

"Whoa! First off, dude, I will be happy to roll over and show you that I am anything but spay-bait. But I am thirsty. Hold that thought."

He walked in, looking for the promised water. Not finding any, he turned to confront the mailman, only to have the door slammed in his face. "Hey! What is the deal here? Open the door!!"

"Now, now," yelled the mailman through the closed door, "no barking!"

"Stupid human, LET ME OUT!"

"You be a good girl now, I’m sure they’ll be back soon," shouted the mailman as he left.

"I got your girl right here, buddy!! I’m a boy dog!! BOY! BOY! B-O-Y BOY! YOU STUPID HUMAN! NO! WAIT! COME BACK! Note to myself: Henceforth, all mailmen are to be treated like kibble. Eaten raw."

He yelled at the door a couple of more times just to show that he was still mad, hoping the mailman would realize his mistake and return.

"Well, I’m screwed, better get the lay of the land, maybe there’s another way out."

He made a thorough inspection of the break room, then proceeded into the garage area, taking in the expansive space. "Geeze! What kinda cars do they drive around here anyway?" He made his way to the dorm room and the bathroom, eventually returning to the kitchen.

"Well, thanks to them leaving the lid up in the bathroom, I’m no longer thirsty. Actually, this wouldn’t be such a bad place to hang around for awhile." He thought as he eyed the sofa. He climbed up on it to test it for comfort. "Oooh, imitation leather! My favorite! I may never move from this spot. Ahhhh! Niiiiiiice"

He began to rethink the whole idea of turning stray. Maybe this time he would pick a winner. His luck had been pretty bad lately. He had lived in his last home nearly two years. He should have known it was doomed the minute they named him ‘Sweetums,’ but he was determined to make this home work. He persevered through those hellions dressing him up in doll clothes, he persevered through them forbidding him his couch, his couch! He even persevered through the c-a-t, but letting that miserable creature eat out of his bowl was just the final, the very last, straw! So he left.

He heard a lot of noise as a little truck and a HUGE truck pulled into the garage area. He almost jumped off the couch then, but stopped himself. "That’s how it starts. First it’s the couch, then it’s the doll clothes, then it’s a c-a-t. Not this time! We’re starting off on the right paw." He settle back down to compose himself. "No, this has to be perfectly planned..."

Johnny was saying, "I’m not picky, Chet. I just don’t dig cleaning up an oil spill at eight a.m."

Roy replied, "At least it’s good for the ecology," as they entered the kitchen.

Johnny continued, " You know what I’m talking about....”

"What’s that?" interrupted Marco.

"What’s what?" asked Johnny, annoyed at being interrupted.

"That!" said Lopez pointing toward the couch.

I believe my Latin name is "canus familiarus", thought Henry, then gave a carefully staged nonchalant yawn. No need to let them think he was too eager. But the couch sure was comfy.

"Looks like a dog to me," said Roy, coming closer.

"Brilliant, Steve Stunning."

"I’ll buy that. But the question is, where did he come from?" said Chet.

"Ahhhh! An intelligent human at last. The mailman let me in."

"Was he here when we went out?" asked Gage.

"I just told you the mailman let me in. Don’t you humans understand ‘doggeral’?"

"I dunno. We left so fast I don’t think I ever got in here," said Roy.

"Well, then it’s obvious. He must belong to someone on ‘C’ Shift," said Johnny.

"Mailman. Mail...man. Say it with me..."

"Maybe, but he isn’t wearing a collar," said Chet.

"Yeah, and why would they just leave him here like this?" asked Roy.

"Look, I don’t know. But he has to belong to somebody. He didn’t just materialize on the couch from outer space – or something," said Johnny.

"Who didn’t?" asked Stanley, walking over to see what all the commotion was about.

"This dog, Cap. We just walked in and found him here. Nobody knows where he came from.

"Well, Cap. What do we do with him?"

"You seem to have that all wrong. I’m adopting you. Next, we’ll be taking up the matter of dog-feeding etiquette."

"Well, I guess we’d better....I don’t know....I don’t know what to do with him. Anybody got a suggestion?"

They were saved by the bell, literally.

Henry cringed. "What the hell is that awful racket? And please tell me it’s not the snooze alarm."

"Structure fire at twenty-seven-forty-two West Bayside. Two-seven-four-two West Bayside. The cross is Pine. Time: nine-eighteen." came the voice of the dispatcher over the speaker. The men jogged out the door.

"Well you guys just run along now, never mind me. I’ll just make myself comfortable," he thought, yawning and rolling over to find a slightly more comfortable position. The trucks pulled out, leaving the station peaceful and quite. "Darn, I should have reminded them to bring me some take-out Chinese food. Oh well. Ahhhhhh. Yeah. I could get used to this."

***

"...anyway, I called the Captains on both B and C shift. They have no idea where he came from. Hochrader swears there wasn’t any dog here when they went off duty this morning," said Stanley.

"He’s right."

"I guess he just wandered in while we were out on that first run," said Roy.

"Mail...man...you know..the man that delivers the mail? Big, sweaty guy. Ugly uniform. Smells like envelopes. Mail Man!! Ugh. Humans. Why do I even bother?"

"How?" asked Johnny.

"What how?" countered Roy.

"How now brown cow. What do you think? He wants to know how I got in here."

"How did he just wander in? The station was locked up. Tight. Nothing open. Right? So how did he get in?"

Roy started to answer, then gave up.

"Well, personally, I don’t care where he came from. He’s here and he’s probably hungry," said Chet. He puts the remainder of his lunch including the plate on the floor in front of the couch. "Here you go, dog. Help yourself..."

"Dog? Descriptive but not very imaginative. Well, at least you didn’t call me snookums or girl. I suppose I should be grateful for small favors. What is that anyway? Peanut butter and jelly?"

The station alarm sounded.

"GEE WHIZ, Can’t you turn that thing off??? Or at least down a few decibels" he amended, remembering how deaf humans were.

***

"Man, it’s good you guys are back. We need help," said Marco.

"What’s the problem?" asked Roy.

"It’s this dog. He won’t eat or drink anything. He won’t even get off the couch. I think he’s gotta be sick," said Chet.

"He’s either sick, or the laziest dog that ever lived," agreed Marco.

"What are we supposed to do about it?" asked Gage.

"Well, after all you guys are paramedics. Check him out, willya?" said Stanley.

Roy and Johnny stared at each other, then resigned, leaned over Henry and began an examination.

"Nose is cold," said Johnny.

"Ears are cold," said Roy.

Johnny pulls out his penlight, "pupils equal and reactive."

"Tail wagging. And I’m getting a good pedal pulse," said Roy.

"There you go," said Johnny, turning to the others, "Vitals normal."

"Quit kidding around willya, it could be serious!" said Chet.

"Who’s kidding around? We’re people paramedics. What do we know about dogs? If you’re really worried take him to a vet," replied Johnny.

"That’s your whole problem John. No heart..." began Chet but was interrupted by the station’s alarm. He and the rest run out to the floor.

"Could we possibly replace that thing with a nice chime or something?" He watched the humans jog out to the garage again. "And they make fun of us and Pavlov?"

***

"You guys leave us anything to eat?" asked Johnny, as he and Roy entered the kitchen.

"In the oven," said Chet.

Roy and Johnny get their dinner, suddenly realizing there is an awkward silence.

"What’s going on?" asked Roy.

"Nothing," said Chet. "We were just trying to figure out where that dog coulda come from."

"I got a better question. What are we gonna do with him?" asked Roy

They look at each other, then turn to Stanley.

He looked uncomfortable, then said, "Do with him? Well, I guess we’re gonna keep him...That is if the other shifts agree."

"Good thinking, Cap," said Chet.

"If we’re gonna keep him, I guess he oughta have a name," said Marco, "What are we gonna call him?"

"Please God, not Snookums."

They consider names for a moment.

"I promise I’ll never chase a cat again! Just don’t make it Snookums!"

"What about Henry?" asked Johnny.

"Sounds kinda right," said Roy, thoughtfully.

"Fits him like a glove," agreed Chet.

"I...uh...don’t want to sound stuffy or anything but...after all, Henry is my name," said Stanley. He considers for a moment, "We’ll I guess it’d be okay...But don’t ever let me hear anyone every call him Hank. And that’s an order!"

"Okay, it’s official. Welcome to Station Fifty-One, Henry" said Johnny.

"Hey, I just noticed something really weird," said Chet.

"Looked in a mirror again, huh?" jibbed Johnny.

"ba dum bum!"

"I’m serious. You know those dishes we left for Henry before we went out on that last run?" said Chet, "Well, they’re gone."

"That’s impossible. How could they be gone? He was here all alone," said Stanley.

"Well, if it’s so impossible, Cap, where are they?" asked Chet.

Stanley hesitated, then started looking under the couch. The rest of the crew joined him.

Henry smiled smugly.

***

It was early morning a few days later. Henry was still getting settled into his new home when there was a commotion and someone entered the station through the back door.

"Hiya Guys," said Dixie, which was answered by a chorus of hellos.

"What brings you over here," asked Roy.

"Well, I was on my way to work and thought I’d stop by and see your dog," said Dixie.

"Alrighty," smiled Roy.

"Would you like to have some coffee, Dixie?" asked Marco.

"Oh, no thank you Marco, I haven’t got the time," she replied.

"Well Dix, come on over here and I’ll introduce you to Henry," said Johnny, and he and Dixie walked over to the couch.

"Alright, Okay" said Dixie, happily.

"Hey! Who is the babe with the legs?"

"Henry...That’s okay, don’t get up for us. Henry, this is Dixie McCall..." introduced Johnny.

"Well hello Henry," said Dixie.

"...Dixie, this is Henry," finish Johnny, sitting on the sofa.

"Isn’t he precious, hey ohhh, look at those eyes. Those are so sad. Give me a little kiss huh? You a kissy dog huh? Kissy dog? No?" said Dixie in baby-talk. "You’re a real ball of fire aren’t ya," she continued sarcastically. "Oh yeah, that’s a baby, yeah"

"Call my anything you like, toots. Just don’t call me ‘snookums’ and don’t call me late for supper."

"Hey Dix, you remember what a good time you had at the fireman’s picnic last year?" asked Johnny, obviously warming up a sales pitch.

"Uh huh."

"Good, I knew I could count on you to buy a couple new tickets this year," said Johnny smugly.

"Unh uh," replied Dixie.

"Unh uh?" repeated Johnny, crestfallen, "Why not?"

"Well, ah, Kel and Joe always buy tickets and that way I get to go for free," explained Dixie.

"Dix, now don’t you think that’s just a tad bit sneaky," asked Johnny, reproachfully.

"Unh uh," replied Dixie, tapping her head, "smart."

"My kind of woman. But I don’t understand. Her name is Dixie, but no Southern accent. Strange."

"Smart," repeated Johnny, deflated, as Dixie nodded her head.

Just then the station’s alarm sounded.

"We’ll see you at the hospital," he told Dixie, as he rose from the couch and made his way toward the squad.

"Okay," replied Dixie and kissed Henry again.

Alone again, Henry melted further into the couch, searching for that perfect place in which to nap. "Yeah, this is gonna be sweet. Several meals a day. TV to watch. Nurses stopping by to make kissy noises and talk baby talk to you. Boy, this is the life."

He yawned even as his eyes were closing for another dream session.

"And if they try to make me leave, I’ll never tell them where the missing dishes are. Gotta have some leverage, you know...Somebody wake me when the mail man comes...I’ll be ready for a snack..."

 Author's note: We wish to thank Preston Wood [Fair Fight] and Dee Murphy [Loose Ends] for their scripts and the way they aided Henry's tail.

" It's A Dog's Life " ©1999 Henry, Erika, David & Roz . "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

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