Crime and Punishment Revisited

It was another grisly morning here. It seems that some time during the night Duncan tried, convicted and punished another of his friends. While Percy the Penguin is still recovering from last month's horrific disemboweling, Duncan has struck again, this time casting judgment on the closest of pals, his treasured and beloved Bah-Bah.

I'm not exactly sure what the crime was, or if one was even committed, or if perhaps this isn't a message meant for me, but Bah-Bah has literally fallen out of favor.

What I do know is this: some time between midnight and 6 AM, Bah-Bah, who was last seen resting beside Duncan on his pillow, fell three stories to the hard concrete below.

I didn't realize Duncan's most trusted friend was even missing. It wasn't until we walked this morning that I discovered the mangled body laying in a heap below our balcony.

Bah-Bah, legless, deaf and helpless, had been dropped thirty feet to a spot just outside our neighbor's garage. Duncan strolled casually by, acting as though he was oblivious to the mangled corpse of his friend, who has been with him nightly for the past two years. Duncan, who remembers every place he's ever seen a squirrel. Duncan, who can locate a golf ball under a foot of snow. Duncan, who hunts out lilacs and sunflowers from miles away and can spot a bunny in the thickest of shrubs or concealed deep in the tallest grass.

Bah-Bah, the truest and most loyal of buddies, was found on his side, his eyes open, the stitched-on smile still on his face. I gasped and rushed to his side. Thankfully––despite the tremendous wound in his side––he was still alive. I scooped him up and turned to Roo, who had taken a sudden very intense interest in a gum wrapper. We climbed the stairs and delivered Bah-Bah to the ICU with Percy before returning outside for our walk. Dunc kept a low profile, ambling quietly beside me, head down, as though nothing had happened.

The events of last night have rocked our apartment. Despite my assurances Buddy and Beaker, Baby and the Blue Buddha are terrified that they're next on the hit list.

I think it's time to pull in some outside help.

Morning Mischief Managed

Perhaps because I never saw my basket of yarn as anything other than benevolent until it turned on me and almost destroyed my dog, I now look at every object I own with a suspicious eye. What if the couch––solid and immovable––were to suddenly tip under the soft weight of Winnie and fall back and crush the children in one, quick blow? What if I left the stove on and cooked every animal and beloved object not only in my apartment but the entire building? Or what if I didn't make the bed and the cats crawled under the covers and, trapped by a maze of twisted blankets and a wall of pillows, suffocated, their plaintive cries unheard by the only person who could save them? It's absurd (and more than a bit of an exaggeration, I might add!) but after the skein of red yarn I bought for a scarf intended for my sister ended up in Duncan's intestines, let's just say I'm cautious.

That's why every morning, after making my tea and preparing my five fruit breakfast, I take all of Duncan's toys––Percy, his penguin, the Bah-Bah, the Birdy, Buddy and the Baby, and perch them atop my DVD shelf where he can't get to them, rip them open and choke on their fluffy innards. He doesn't like it one bit and upon my arrival home in the evening,  insists emphatically that they all immediately be returned to the ground where he can play with and terrorize them. I leave only the tennis balls for him to play with, while I'm gone and perhaps, if he's very sly, a stray kiwi.

This morning after tending to my rituals I went in search of the toys and discovered that Duncan had taken action while I showered, spending that valuable time hiding his little, armless and legless, and sometimes faceless friends, all over the apartment. Percy was tucked away on his pillow, nestled down between the blanket Chelsea gave him for Christmas and the throw mom knitted for him. If it hadn't been for Percy's bright yellow beak I may not have noticed him at all. The blue bone was concealed in Winnie's fort, an old shoe box I keep under an end table where she hides for hours, peeking up slowly and carefully so that just the green of her big eyes are visible. Buddy was stashed between the bed and the window, down among the blankets where it would've been all too easy to miss him. After a careful search of the entire apartment I'd rounded everyone up except Bah-Bah, who remained unaccounted for. Duncan ate his breakfast, indifferent to my search, or so it seemed, until I returned to the bedroom to find him curled up on the bed, the mangled lamb tucked under one paw while he received a very attentive and thorough bath.

He was not happy when I took him away and placed him up on the tower with the rest of them. He sighed loudly, harumphed and wouldn't look at me when I left. I'll make it up to him and stop by Hero's for a bully stick before I come home.

It's the time away from home that alarms me. He and the cats have all day to plot and plan and I'm beginning to doubt I'm smart enough to keep up with them.

Little Dignity

I'd gone to the gym with Brady this afternoon and by the time I got home my legs were starting to stiffen up and whatever poor excuse for muscles I have in my shoulders and arms were throwing a loud and obnoxious tantrum. Duncan, of course, was in exactly the opposite condition, jumping and full of celebration, demanding we walk and walk and walk some more. I agreed to take him for a quick one around the complex with just another time to pee and poop and check the fire hydrant messages which had been left for him. He didn't quite agree and decided to drag the walk out as long as possible, sniffing every rattling leaf, scouring entire patches of sidewalk for the faintest of odors, moving on and then doubling back to make sure he hadn't missed anything, forcing me to stand in the cold, bouncing on my aching legs to keep warm. It was my punishment for being gone this afternoon, which obviously should have been spent with him, playing with his Birdy, being spoon fed stuffing dipped in gravy and cuddling on the couch. His slow pace wasn't a problem until we came around the Bowles side of the building and stopped near the low hedge directly behind the bus stop. The sun had gone down and darkness had settled in, along with a sudden and surprising chill, and while Duncan nosed around the shrub I shivered and told him, "You need to poop. You need to poop now." He didn't even look up. "If I were you I'd poop. Poop now. Poop now!"

The man sitting on the bench a few feet away turned in my direction, Duncan completely concealed from his line of sight. "By all means poop!" he told me. "But at least wait until I get my ass on the 5:35 and away from you!"

At times Duncan loves to remind me that my dignity means very little to him.

Special Guest

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." (Anaïs Nin)

After months of anticipation and planning it finally happened: Lori from Fermented Fur finally came to Denver and made her debut appearance right here at While Walking Duncan. Although she hasn't actually had a chance to walk with him, she did spend several quality hours playing with and spoiling him. Of course it helped that she came bearing gifts: a beautiful pheasant toy we've dubbed Birdy and some delicious Duck Strip Dog Treats from Plato. I, in turn, made my Famous White Pizza, and Duncan doted on her and somehow convinced her, as he does every visitor, that he's sorely neglected and doesn't get nearly as much attention as he deserves. We had a wonderful evening, especially Dunc, who has made a new Best Friend For Life. Lori and I spent much of the night sitting and talking, playing with Roo, eating and talking, playing with Roo, discussing books and writing, politics and Roo, and getting so caught up in our time together that we didn't realize it was well past Turning-Back-Into-Pumpkins time and finally admitted that it was time to call it a night. As Lori gathered her things and headed to the door, Duncan put on his saddest face and pouted as she scritched behind his ears one last time. Luckily we'll be able to get together again on Saturday and actually walk and enjoy the cool Fall weather which has settled over The Rockies, with crunching leaves underfoot and the laughter of a new friendship ringing across the fields.