Teddy and Chris live next door so I’ve met them many times before. Teddy is not the friendliest dog. He growls and snaps, sounding more like a T-Rex than a Chihuahua, even when Chris jerks his leash and tells him to stop. And me, with tail wagging, head lowered, and eyes averted to avoid any provocation. I’m about as much of a threat as a squirrel with a nut allergy trying to plunder a peanut factory.
Rumor has it that Teddy treats Liesel with respect. Liesel, an aging Dachshund who plods along at the pace of a three-legged lizard. I wonder if, when she was younger, she taught Teddy a lesson that he never forgot.
I’m not the fighting type. I’d rather steer clear than interfere.
So you can imagine how nervous I was when Teddy and Chris appeared at our front door one afternoon. I backed away, then ran to the couch and climbed up the back to my “safe place.” There, I was several feet above Teddy and the floor—out of harm’s way, I hoped.
“Don’t worry, Keke,” Chris purred, pulling me from my perch and taking me in her arms. I should mention that Chris is a woman, and a friendly one at that. She has always been kind to me, even when I “accidentally” peed on her foot after she gave Teddy a treat without giving me any.
She has a blind side when it comes to Teddy. She thinks he prances above the puddles.
“Be nice, Teddy,” she said, speaking to Teddy in that same calm, reassuring voice I thought she reserved for me. And with that, she put me down on the floor just a few feet from Teddy’s sharp, antediluvian teeth—the same fangs I had seen snap at Flash, the Labrador-Pit Bull mix four times his size.
I backed away until my rear hit the couch. He approached, wrinkled nose sniffing furiously as I whined softly. I knew he could smell my fear—the scent overwhelmed everything else. His oversized eyes bulged even bigger as the cagey mongrel from Tijuana sniffed at the tiny puppy whose lineage includes Abigal Basha Beauty.
I had not noticed before that his right eye was bigger than the left. They both bulged, but his right eye appeared to be wearing a monocle, and it stared at me without blinking.
My body shook as I looked about for an escape route.
“Un lindo perrito,” he said in a soft voice. “Such a cute little puppy.”
His eyes softened. No teeth were bared, and no sound escaped his throat.
“Sweet little Teddy,” I heard Chris say. “It’s okay, Keke.”
Teddy proceeded to sniff—not an angry, threatening snuffle, but an inquisitive whiff. “S’Ok,” he said. “S’Alright.”
Over the next minute, I relaxed as he smelled my entire body, from nose to tail. There was no apparent threat.
After he finished his inspection, I ran to the family room and prodded my purple soccer ball from the corner. He followed, and I pushed it to him with my nose. He trapped the ball with his paw, then head-butted it back. It went rolling past me, and I gave chase.
As I got behind the ball to stop it, I heard a growl from behind and stopped short.
Teddy ran past and nudged the purple ball, emitting another deep purr from his throat. It was a growl, but not menacing. His bulging eyes smiled as he said, “We play game, yes?”
“Sure,” I said. “Your goal is on this side of the room and mine—”
“No no no,” he interrupted. “I show you.”
I followed Teddy to the front door. There, on the floor, was Mommy’s purse. As Teddy stuck his nose in the handbag, I sucked in a short breath.
“No,” I said, my mouth agape. “What are you doing in—”
“Relax,” he laughed, his voice muffled as he poked and snuffled his way through the bag’s contents. “S’Ok.” A moment later, he emerged, a ring of keys dangling from his mouth.
“Teddy, no.”
“What are you?” he asked. “Un Ratoncito?”
I didn’t understand, but I shook my head.
“Then we have a leetle fun. Jus’ remember…” His right eye stared again, unblinking. “Sneetches end in deetches.”
I gulped.
“S’Alright,” he added, grinning broadly. “Jus’ keeeding, hee-hee-hee.”
With that, he clamped his teeth on the car remote, and a second later, I heard a loud “honk” from the garage. The sound repeated, “honk, honk, honk…”
I sucked in a breath as I recognized the horn from Mommy’s car, but Teddy barely missed a beat as he ran to the family room, keys still in his mouth. I started to follow but stopped when I heard Mommy’s dire call.
“What’s that?” she said as she opened the door to the garage. The sound of the car horn grew louder as it escaped the open door.
Chris followed, leaving Teddy and me alone in the house.
I barked as Chris closed the door behind her and continued barking until the honking stopped a minute later.
“I wonder what could have caused that?” Mommy asked as she re-emerged from the garage, almost tripping over Teddy as he flew by me.
“Teddy, stop!” Chris commanded as she appeared behind Mommy.
Teddy stopped on command and turned to face me. His large right eye winked at me as he walked past, a bounce in his step. Reaching the kitchen, he turned and sat down, watching the humans with interest. He looked at them and grinned—a sweet, innocent smile.
As Mommy talked to Chris about the unusual incident, she walked to the front door and picked up her purse. I sighed as I lay down on the floor and waited for her to discover the culprit.
Rummaging through her purse, Mommy said, “Hmmm. They’re not here.”
“What’s not?” Chris asked.
“My keys.” With that, she leveled an accusing gaze, first at me and then at Teddy. I knew that gaze. She was a clever detective. It was only a matter of minutes before she figured it out and tossed that evil Chihuahua out the door.
My ears turned down, and I looked at Teddy, who looked back at Mommy with adoring eyes and the innocence of a newborn puppy. How did he do that? Didn’t he feel guilty for what he had done?
Mommy turned to stare at me. “Keke?” she said.
“Keke,” Chris said. “What did you do with the keys?”
My ears, already down, lowered more. Then I rose and ran to the family room. I climbed to my “safe place” at the top of the sofa before turning to look back at them.
Mommy entered the family room and, after a brief inspection, made a direct line for my toy basket. Then she stooped and pulled her key ring from the top of the pile.
What was it doing there, she wanted to know, looking from me to Teddy and back to me. Teddy’s eyes widened as he stared at me. I wilted into the couch cushion, unable to meet Mommy’s gaze.
Chris broke the silence. “Keke,” she said. “Did you take the car remote?”
“No,” Mommy said, “Keke wouldn’t do that.”
Thank goodness, I thought. She was too smart to fall for Teddy’s trick.
“I’m not so sure,” Chris said. “I’ve read her book. I know what she’s capable of.”
Gulp. Why, oh why did I write that story, Divide and Conquer?
Jus’ keeeding, hee-hee-hee.
Thanks to Brian Blacknick for sharing his ideas for this story.
OH, Keke, you do have some interesting adventures! I think your mommy knows what happened here, though.
This Mexican standoff is classic Keke. And it's so nice that the neighbor read Keke's new book. I cannot imagine that the thing they call Teddy has the capacity to read at all. Well done again, Keke! Regards, Maxcy Girl