Dogs play an important role in our lives. Sometimes they enter our world in strange ways.

 

Although we think we understand them, some of them have their own agenda. Such may be the case in . . .

 

 

Zeke the Sneak

 

     The day had been long and frustrating. I lost a major account at work. I didn’t get home until after ten. Had to eat a sandwich from the vending machine in the employee lounge for dinner. My stomach felt queasy and I was pooped.

     I washed up and changed out of my gray business suit into my beige cotton PJs, without saying a word to my wife, Sue, who sat in bed reading some woman’s magazine, with a tattooed brunette on the cover. Then I crawled in next to her and crashed onto my pillow.

     “So how was your day?” she murmured.

     “Don’t want to talk about it. I’m bushed.” I had no energy left to lift my head, so I blew her a kiss and moaned, “Good night.” I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. Closing my eyes, I slipped into a peaceful sleep.

     A noise coming from the kitchen interrupted my tranquility. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I squinted to see the time on its illuminated digital face—2:45 a.m. 

     Then the sound disappeared. “Maybe one of the dogs went out through the doggie door,” I muttered. But reaching down by my legs, I felt our two small wiener dogs, Ike and Mike, huddled at the bottom of our queen-size bed.

     “Oh well,” I sighed. The noise is gone. Could’ve been my imagination. So thinking nothing more about it, I again drifted into a restful sleep.

     But then, I became uncomfortable. I felt trapped. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. About twenty minutes had passed. I tried to roll over, but I couldn’t. My legs were pinned against the bed—frozen, paralyzed. I began to struggle; drawing upon what strength I could muster. But nothing happened.

     Thoughts ran through my mind. Am I having a stroke? Why can’t I move? Has something fallen on me? It couldn’t be the dogs. They’re too small and they’re sleeping next to me. And my wife, on top of me? No way! 

     For a few minutes, I lay motionless, making no effort to free myself. But then, I rolled onto my side. All the parts of my body moved with amazing ease. Without a clue as to what had happened, I gave a sigh of relief and went back to sleep.

     In the morning, I awoke to the sounds of barking dogs playing with a toy octopus at the side of the bed. I shook off the night and dragged my body into the bathroom, threw water on my face, brushed my teeth, dressed, and made my way to the kitchen.

     As I ambled into the sunlit eating area, Sue looked at me and asked, “Did you hear the noise last night, Ernie?”

     “Yeah, the one coming from in here. Didn’t think much about it. It didn’t last long.”  

     Sue seemed perplexed. “What are you talking about?” she grumbled.

     “What are you talking about?” I replied, somewhat confused.

     She stared at me. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

     “No, I don’t have a clue,” I responded.

     “Last night, about 3:10 a.m., I heard a soft thud on the floor next to your side of the bed. I tried to see what’d happened, but it was too dark. I felt around for you and the dogs and found all of you. I assumed it must have been my imagination or a dream, so I rolled over and went back to sleep.”

     “Huh. You believed something might have been in bed with us?” I queried.

     “I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe.”

     “But, I felt something on top of me. I couldn’t move my legs. I thought I’d had a stroke. Then I could move again. I didn’t hear or see anything, so I concluded I’d imagined it.”

     Sue had a puzzled expression on her face. “Could we both have imagined the same thing happening?” she asked.

     “Maybe. Oh, I don’t know,” I stammered. “Let’s put it behind us. I don’t think we should be concerned. We could’ve rolled into each other. Then thought we heard something. Who knows? I have to go to work.”

     That evening, when I came home, Sue reclined on the living room couch reading. “How was your day?” I asked.

     She hesitated before replying. “Well, nothing much happened, but . . .”

     “But what?”

     “Eh, I kept hearing the doggie door in the garage open and close. But the dogs didn’t react. They lounged on the couch with me and didn’t move. When I went to check, I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. So, I guess it was nothing,” she said. “How was your day?”

     “Well, something odd occurred as I left the house this morning.”

     “Yeah, what?”

     “I found the dog treat jar on the counter in the garage open. Some of the treats lay on the counter and one or two had fallen on the floor.”

     “So?”

     “Our dogs aren’t big enough to reach the counter. And I thought I’d put the lid on the jar after I gave each of them a treat last night. Maybe I didn’t tighten it. But they still couldn’t get to it.”

     “That is strange, Ernie.”

     “Let’s not worry about it. I’ll make sure everything in the garage is where it should be before we go to bed tonight and then check things out in the morning.”

     After dinner, we settled in on the couch to watch some TV. I flipped channels, but could find only reruns. Being too tired to do anything else, we watched two old episodes of Criminal Minds and one of Monk. I couldn’t help thinking that I wished I had some of Monk’s insight into crime solving to unravel our mystery.

     After Monk, we decided to turn in for the night. I shut off the TV, secured everything in the garage, and joined Sue in the bedroom.

     Once in bed, Sue and I snuggled up against each other. Soon Ike and Mike joined us to complete the family. All of us now in our usual places, I drifted off to sleep.

     Then my world seemed to be closing in on me. “My legs. My legs. I can’t move my legs,” I murmured. Could my imagination be playing tricks on me again? I tried to see why my legs wouldn’t budge. But in the pitch-black room, I couldn’t see anything.

     Feeling around me, I discovered neither the dogs nor Sue had moved from their resting places. It must be my wild imagination getting the best of me again. Then I heard a very slight plop, like something small and light landing on the floor on my side of the bed.

     I regained the feeling in my legs. I wiggled my toes. I could move. I hustled out of bed and down the hall, turning lights on as I ran. But I saw nothing. What could’ve made the noise? I must be losing my mind. 

     By this time, Sue and Ike and Mike had gotten up and met me in the doorway, as I returned to the bedroom. “I heard something. I swear I heard something,” I moaned.

     “But what, Ernie?” Sue pleaded. “I think you’re going nuts. I didn’t hear anything and the dogs didn’t move from the bed until we heard you in the hallway. You’ve got to pull yourself together.”

     “Oh, maybe I am going crazy,” I shrieked.

     It was now 6:15 a.m. I had no sleep to speak of and had to leave for work in less than an hour. I dragged my tortured body into the shower, dressed, ate breakfast, kissed Sue, petted the dogs, and headed out the door.

     Later in the morning, I sat at my desk at work reliving my ordeal—real or a mere fantasy? The ringing of the phone shocked me back to reality. Picking it up, I heard excited, somewhat labored breathing and then Sue’s voice—about four octaves higher than usual.

     “I know what happened. I know who entered our house. You’re not crazy. Well, at least not completely crazy,” Sue squealed.

     “Okay, so tell me who was in our house? And how did you find out what happened?”

     It took her a couple of seconds to calm down and then came the extraordinary explanation.

     “It was Zeke.”

     “Zeke!” I exclaimed. “Who’s Zeke?”

     “The dog, Zeke.”

     “The dog,” I yelled in frustration. “What dog?”

     “Well, I’d been cleaning the garage. You know, sweeping and mopping. When right in front of me, this mouse appeared. And you know how I hate mice. So I screamed at the top of my lungs, ‘Eeeeeeek!!!!!’ And in he ran.”

     “Who ran in?”

     “Zeke ran in. He came through the doggie door in the garage. He grabbed the creature by the tail and shook it against the wall until it . . . uh, died.”

     “Where is he now”

     “Don’t know. He left the same way he came in. Took the mouse with him.”

     “How do you know his name is Zeke?”

     “Well, when I yelled, ‘eek,’ he came running. Eek couldn’t be his name, so it must be Zeke.”

     By this time, all I could do was shake my head at her unbelievable logic.

     That night, I prepared for bed, set up a small nightlight, and crawled in next to Sue. Our eyes met. I said, “Good night. Get some rest. You’ve had an incredible day.”

     “I’m exhausted, but happy,” she sighed. “I discovered Zeke. . . . What’s the nightlight for?”

     “Well, if he comes back, I want to meet him.”

     I placed my head on the pillow, and made believe I was sleeping. About an hour passed. Then I heard soft footsteps coming down the hall. A shaggy dog of about forty pounds entered the bedroom and jumped up on the bed with great finesse. He crept onto my legs with movements so delicate and silent that neither Sue nor Ike or Mike reacted to his presence.

     With my legs now pinned to the mattress, I couldn’t move. But this time, I felt no panic or distress. All I could think of was Zeke, Sue’s hero. I closed my eyes and drifted into a serene slumber.

     When I awoke in the morning, Zeke was gone. I had no idea where he went or, for that matter, where he’d come from. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.

     Just as Sue and I sat down for breakfast, the doorbell rang. I looked at her and stated, “It’s only 7 o’clock. I wonder who that can be at this hour.”

     “Well, are you going to answer it?” she asked.

     “Guess so. One of us has to.” I got up and shuffled toward the front door. I turned the knob and opened it. Standing before me was a tall, bearded man, wearing a navy blue suit and light blue and white-stripped tie. Not exactly what I’d expected at this early hour.

     “May I help you?” I inquired.

     “No, but maybe I can help you.”

     “Are you selling something?”

     “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

     “Then what?”

     “Let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. Aaron Chambers, a cardiac surgeon at St. Mary’s Hospital. I also live just around the corner from you.”

     “Okay, I’m Ernie Warren, and I live here with my wife Sue.”

     “Nice to meet you, sir.”

     This was weird. What the hell does this polite, but somewhat strange man want? I thought. I just stared at him.

     “You must be wondering why I’m here.”

     “Well, yes.”

     “Last night while I lay in bed reading, my dog slid off the bed and headed out of the room. Then I heard my garage door going up. My god, I thought, He must’ve pressed the garage door opener. In my pajamas, I rushed down the hallway to the garage, jumped into my car, and followed him to this house—your house. He slipped through the open fence gate and disappeared. I wasn’t worried about him hurting anybody. He’s a therapy dog—spends most days at the hospital with patients recovering from surgery. He’s warm and caring.”

     “Why didn’t you ring our bell then?”

     “It seemed like it was too late. And I was in my pajamas. So I decided to wait until morning.”

     “You know, last night was the third night he came to our house. And he visited the other day, too.”

     “I had no idea.”

     “By the way, what’s your dog’s name?”

     “’Dr. Ezekiel.’ But I call him Zeke.”

     I stood there with my mouth wide open. Sue’s unbelievable logic indeed had become believable.

    

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