On our morning walks, Mary and I pass a house guarded by a beagle named Harley. I think Harley was trained on the “invisible fence” technology, because he never steps beyond a certain point on the edge of the yard. He also barks at us every time, acting as if he’s certain we have mischief on our minds. When I see him, I am reminded of a beagle I knew long ago in college. His name was Frank, and he ran with a black Lab named Baron.
They were regular visitors to my dorm room. Baron and Frank belonged to the same family, and always traveled as a unit. When they showed up at the dorm, Baron jumped onto my bed and Frank sat where he could get a good view, and stared at me. He stared for long stretches at a time. Sometimes he whimpered as he stared. Frank was a real trip.
When I was a senior, I had the use of a car. After learning where Baron and Frank lived, I sometimes took them home following a long afternoon of being stared at by Frank. These two dogs hopped into my car and always took the same positions. Baron laid down over the hump on the floor in the back, and Frank sat up front in the passenger seat, paws on the arm rest, looking out the window. They did it every time. When we arrived at their house, I merely opened the car doors, and out they bounced, happily checking back in with their owner, Mrs. Simpson.
One time, Mrs. Simpson invited my roommate Jeff and me to her home for dinner. She was a gracious lady, and her adult son lived with her. I remember we sat in the back yard and enjoyed a cookout. She served beer to Jeff and me, but we really didn’t want to drink it. I’ll never forget how every time Mrs. Simpson looked away, Jeff flung a splash of his beer into her flowerbed. I just sipped mine – very slowly.
Mrs. Simpson spoke with a slow drawl, and she spoke a lot. We were thoroughly entertained as she described how one day she saw the dogcatcher’s truck parked in front of her house. Frank was detained yet again. Mrs. Simpson described the scene. “Ah went ow-et, and looooked in back of that tru-uck, and Ah said, ‘Fraaannk. What’re you doin’ in they-ah?’”
Hearing it all being recounted as we humans ate hamburgers and some of us avoided drinking beer, Frank just stared, perhaps embarrassed that his misdeeds were disclosed in front of company.
Updated: Saturday, 7 July 2007 6:39 PM EDT
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