Mazda Miata and the Case of the Rottweiler's JoggerThis story appeared in the April, 1999 edition of TTTalk, a publication of the British TT fanciers (No, Mom can't remember the exact name, either...) They don't pay cash, but they pay in adulation, and when Mom gets compliments, she gives me extra treats so it's even better than cash!You've heard of the greats: Spillane, Chan, Marple…and you've heard of the famous: Columbo, Magnum, Fletcher. You've even heard of the bizarre, namely Ace Ventura. But so far, you haven't heard of the canine. That would be me. Mazda Miata, pet, and detective. Who better than a dog to sniff out the clues, to dig up the dirt, to…well, you get the idea. Take my latest caper, for instance. There I was, minding my own business (and that of a neighborhood cat, who apparently didn't think her litter box was good enough for her) when my path was crossed by the biggest, meanest looking Rottweiler ever to grace the good Earth. "Are you Mazda Miata?" he growled, politely. I backed away a tad and said, "I'm Mazda Miata. Can I help you?" It cracked my tough bitch image, but with a Rotty that size, it seemed the path of greater virtue. "I got a problem, and someone told me you were good at locating things," he said. It was weird to see a Rottweiler, usually all muscle and attitude, treating me so politely, but if he wanted my help, he obviously thought he should be a gentleman. A Rotty with a brain…will wonders never cease? "Yeah, I'm good," I admitted. "There's others better, others not so good. What is it you need found?" He looked embarrassed, which is no mean feat for a dog that size. "I…uh…it's my…uh…" I couldn't help myself. "Your bankie?" I suggested in a helpful tone. I retreated a tiny bit, prepared to run for it in case he took offense. To my relief, he seemed to have a sense of humor. "Cute one, Ms. Miata," he said without obvious rancor. "Now, can we get serious for a second? I lost my human." That one stumped me. How does a dog lose his or her human? We might run away from our human, but losing a human just isn't what happens to dogs in this day and age…at least not in the civilized West. "Okay, how'd it happen?" I asked, trying to appear professional. "I'm not entirely sure," he replied. "One minute we were jogging along in the park, and my collar was fitting just fine, and the next minute I was halfway across the park from where I'd been, and my leash was dragging along after me. I have to tell you, Ms. Miata, I'm worried." I was worried, too. He seemed a nice enough dog, but Rotties sometimes go off the edge and if he'd harmed his human and then forgotten about it, that was a symptom of something dangerous starting to short circuit his brain. "Okay, I'll check it out," I promised. "Now get home and stay in your own yard. Don't let anyone see you off leash until this is all straightened out, you got that? Oh, and just for the record, what's your name?" "Bruno," he said as he headed back in the direction from which he'd originally arrived. Bruno. Figures. I walked around the yard, still peripherally curious about the cat but now more concerned with Bruno the Rottweiler's problem. Most people who keep dogs like Rottweilers or Dobermans-dogs known for their bad tempers-are cautious when jogging with them. They know that other folks, two legged, four legged, and even some birds, are afraid of anything that looks like an attack dog. Granted, some humans enjoy creating that kind of fear but Bruno was so well-educated and so polite, I doubted his human had such intentions I knew the only way I'd get to the bottom of this matter was to visit the park. But doing that entailed some finagling. After all, I didn't want to be seen illegally off-leash if I could help it. I might be a cute, fuzzy looking doggy, but that wouldn't influence the actions of Marsha the Dog Catcher. She and I had had a few run-ins in the past. While we normally were on the same moral side, my methods frequently conflicted with her "by the book" mentality. My humans had had to rescue me twice from Marsha's clutches, and I didn't want to press my luck with them. I mean, I had it good at that house. The pound just wasn't a place I looked forward to visiting, on either side of the cage door. I wiggled into the house through the slightly open patio door and, with some silent effort, nosed it shut. For my plan to work, I would have to need to go out and get exercise, so it couldn't look like I had just been. With the door securely closed, I padded over to the front door and began to whine pitifully. Katie, my female human heard and came to investigate. She shook her head, and said, "Aw, honey, you need to go out, do you? I'm sorry; I thought I left the patio door open." I was thinking up plan B when a neighbor and her Irish Setter went jogging by on the way to the park. Katie nodded. "I have an idea," she said. "Let's you and me go to the park for a walk, shall we? I could use the exercise, too." I danced happily while she got a sweater and my leash. Moments later, legally ensnared, I was off to investigate the disappearance of Bruno's human. We arrived at the jogging path, and I realized I had miscalculated. Katie doesn't jog. She walks sedately. I had to tug more than usual to get her to follow my lead. We stayed far to the side, to let the real joggers past, as I sniffed heavily in the dust and undergrowth. I had picked up Bruno's scent and had pretty well isolated his human's scent. It seemed to stay on the jogging path, until we approached a section that ran under a canopy of leafy branches. It was dark in there, even in the early afternoon. I had a sudden feeling of alarm and started to tug at my leash. Finding Bruno's human was important, but not if it meant putting my beloved Katie in danger. "What is it, honey?" she asked, sensing my concern. She looked ahead into the dark tunnel formed by the trees. "Something in there?" She tightened her grip on my leash and began to walk determinedly into the approaching gloom. I heard some rustling in the branches, and I thought I heard a groan. Panicking, I raced away from Katie, yanking my leash out of her hand. She turned and ran after me, as fast as she could go, which wasn't very fast. I hurried to find the hated dog-catcher. Marsha wasn't a human police officer, but she carried a radio and looked official in her uniform. There! I'd spotted Marsha! I barked, making sure she could see that I was off-leash, then started to run back towards Katie and the darkened area of the jogging path. I slowed a little, just enough to let Katie catch up but not enough to let her grab my leash. I needed Marsha to stay with us just a little bit longer. With Katie hard at my heels, I hurried to the place where I thought I'd heard the groan. On the ground, off the path and under a bush, I could see a human foot clad in a jogging shoe. It was moving a little, and the sound of groaning was obviously coming from that human. I pulled up in front of it, barking, and allowed Katie to capture my leash. Marsha pulled up right behind us. "What the heck?" Marsha asked aloud. The person at the other end of the jogging shoe whispered, "Help me! Please, I'm hurt!" Marsha pushed the branches of the bush aside and revealed an elderly man whose face was covered in welts and bruises. "They jumped me," he moaned. "Three of them. I think one was a girl. I think they wanted my dog, but he ran off. Then they tried to get my wallet, but I don't carry it when I jog. All they got was my house key, and when I wouldn't tell them the address, they started to hit me." Marsha had already keyed her radio and was notifying the authorities who deal with naughty humans. I stood proudly by my Katie, secure in the knowledge that I was safely on-leash and legal. And I knew that Bruno's human would be well taken care of. The next day, Bruno and his human were walking (gingerly) past my house and they both spotted me. The human paused to say hello, recognizing me from the previous days' adventure. Bruno snufflingly filled me in. His human had come home late the previous evening, damaged but safe. An intruder later that night turned out to be the locksmith, re-keying the house so that, if the miscreants ever found the address, they could not get in. Then, in the morning, the police called to say they had apprehended three people, two men and a woman, trying to hold up a discount store. The woman was in possession of a key that looked like it might be the one stolen from Bruno's human. If the locksmith confirmed it, they would be charged with assault and probably spend a lot of time in the human pound. Bruno agreed to pay my fee whenever he could get it to me. (I charge a cup of kibble an hour, plus expenses, but can't always collect right away. Transporting kibble is tough. Sometimes I work out a trade; in this case, protection on the job sounded like a good thing to suggest…) I heard Katie and my male human, Ken, coming from the house towards the fence. They greeted Bruno's human by name: Ted. When Ted told Ken how brave I had been when I rescued him the previous day, Ken reached down and scratched that place behind my ears that always seems to need so much scratching. "Yeah, she's a good dog, smart and creative," he said. "I think it's the Tibetan mind…they're a little more spiritual than the average dog. You know, most dogs nap, Tibetan dogs meditate…" All three humans laughed. If he thinks I've been contemplating my navel…hmph! Dogs don't even have navels!!! ********** Well, that's the end of this story, so head on back to the corral now.
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