Read Online The Wicked Flea by Susan Conant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Conant
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“Tell Althea about what?”
“The man!”
“Douglas?”
“No, no, the one in the ski mask. And trench coat.” Ceci lowered her voice. “That silly man who, uh, shows himself. To women.”
Before I report what happened next, I want to make it clear that the moment Ceci raised the topic of telling or not telling Althea about the exhibitionist, I turned my eyes from the field to Ceci, and thus was not watching Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the runner in black. Ceci wasn’t looking at them, either; she was looking at me. In other words, I didn’t see what happened and have never said otherwise. Ceci didn’t see what happened, either; she couldn’t have. Neither of us looked in that direction until we heard shouting and barking. When we did, we stopped, turned around, and saw the source of the hullabaloo. The first thing I noticed was that Sylvia was, for once, holding Zsa Zsa’s collar. Specifically, Sylvia was bent over a little and grasping the collar in her left hand. With her right, she was jabbing a fist at the runner in black, who stood a foot or two away from her. I had the impression that Sylvia was gesturing. It’s possible that Sylvia’s fist made contact with the runner’s body. I was too far away to judge accurately. Zsa Zsa was certainly barking, and the women were undoubtedly shouting at each other. I made out only two words: you and dog.
Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the runner were closer to the big group of dog walkers and dogs than they were to Ceci, Quest, Rowdy, and me. By the time I turned to watch the dispute, some members of the dog group were rounding up their animals and putting them on leash. A few people, however, were heading toward the scene of the altercation. Pia must have gotten there first. She was followed closely by Wilson, who had had Llio on leash to begin with. Noah was another speedy arrival. His dogs, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Jonna, got along well with the other dogs and showed no desire to wander from the group, so he probably felt comfortable in taking his eyes off them.
“There goes Noah!” Ceci exclaimed. “He’s our mayor, you know. That’s what we call him. The mayor of the dog group. He’ll get things straightened out, but doesn’t Sylvia look furious! And that other woman, whoever she is, is really quite, quite angry, and what do you suppose happened? I’ll bet Zsa Zsa chased after her, and then she said something not very nice to Sylvia, and...” By this time, Ceci was eagerly heading toward the quarreling women, her progress impeded by Quest, who shared none of his owner’s inquisitiveness about the drama. “Quest, do stop being a mule!” Ceci commanded.
In contrast to Quest, Rowdy was almost uncontrollably eager to get to the scene of the conflict. Human discord would’ve been of passing interest to him, but in his ears, Zsa Zsa’s insistent barks demanded his intervention. Malamutes are convinced that the world is run, if you can even call it that, by a bunch of spineless incompetents with no sense of order and no ability to enforce rules. Border collies share the conviction, but are committed to rising above the chaos or herding it neatly into enclosures. Malamutes use brute force. Cheerful creatures that they are, they like using brute force. Furthermore, they avoid the periphery in favor of the center. In this instance, Rowdy was just positively itching to pounce on Zsa Zsa and teach her a lesson, thereby restoring order and, of course, making himself the star of the show.
I didn’t permit Rowdy to play policeman. But I could have stopped him from dragging me across the field. I didn’t. I’m human, therefore I’m curious. Also, I knew that Ceci was unstoppable. Consequently, Quest and I got hauled to the small group of people who now surrounded Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the angry runner. Ceci’s and Rowdy’s timing was actually good, because the four of us arrived at a key moment. From up close, where we now were, I could see that the runner must have
“The man!”
“Douglas?”
“No, no, the one in the ski mask. And trench coat.” Ceci lowered her voice. “That silly man who, uh, shows himself. To women.”
Before I report what happened next, I want to make it clear that the moment Ceci raised the topic of telling or not telling Althea about the exhibitionist, I turned my eyes from the field to Ceci, and thus was not watching Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the runner in black. Ceci wasn’t looking at them, either; she was looking at me. In other words, I didn’t see what happened and have never said otherwise. Ceci didn’t see what happened, either; she couldn’t have. Neither of us looked in that direction until we heard shouting and barking. When we did, we stopped, turned around, and saw the source of the hullabaloo. The first thing I noticed was that Sylvia was, for once, holding Zsa Zsa’s collar. Specifically, Sylvia was bent over a little and grasping the collar in her left hand. With her right, she was jabbing a fist at the runner in black, who stood a foot or two away from her. I had the impression that Sylvia was gesturing. It’s possible that Sylvia’s fist made contact with the runner’s body. I was too far away to judge accurately. Zsa Zsa was certainly barking, and the women were undoubtedly shouting at each other. I made out only two words: you and dog.
Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the runner were closer to the big group of dog walkers and dogs than they were to Ceci, Quest, Rowdy, and me. By the time I turned to watch the dispute, some members of the dog group were rounding up their animals and putting them on leash. A few people, however, were heading toward the scene of the altercation. Pia must have gotten there first. She was followed closely by Wilson, who had had Llio on leash to begin with. Noah was another speedy arrival. His dogs, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Jonna, got along well with the other dogs and showed no desire to wander from the group, so he probably felt comfortable in taking his eyes off them.
“There goes Noah!” Ceci exclaimed. “He’s our mayor, you know. That’s what we call him. The mayor of the dog group. He’ll get things straightened out, but doesn’t Sylvia look furious! And that other woman, whoever she is, is really quite, quite angry, and what do you suppose happened? I’ll bet Zsa Zsa chased after her, and then she said something not very nice to Sylvia, and...” By this time, Ceci was eagerly heading toward the quarreling women, her progress impeded by Quest, who shared none of his owner’s inquisitiveness about the drama. “Quest, do stop being a mule!” Ceci commanded.
In contrast to Quest, Rowdy was almost uncontrollably eager to get to the scene of the conflict. Human discord would’ve been of passing interest to him, but in his ears, Zsa Zsa’s insistent barks demanded his intervention. Malamutes are convinced that the world is run, if you can even call it that, by a bunch of spineless incompetents with no sense of order and no ability to enforce rules. Border collies share the conviction, but are committed to rising above the chaos or herding it neatly into enclosures. Malamutes use brute force. Cheerful creatures that they are, they like using brute force. Furthermore, they avoid the periphery in favor of the center. In this instance, Rowdy was just positively itching to pounce on Zsa Zsa and teach her a lesson, thereby restoring order and, of course, making himself the star of the show.
I didn’t permit Rowdy to play policeman. But I could have stopped him from dragging me across the field. I didn’t. I’m human, therefore I’m curious. Also, I knew that Ceci was unstoppable. Consequently, Quest and I got hauled to the small group of people who now surrounded Sylvia, Zsa Zsa, and the angry runner. Ceci’s and Rowdy’s timing was actually good, because the four of us arrived at a key moment. From up close, where we now were, I could see that the runner must have
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