The Backyard Tiger

Narrated by Arnold (3 month old German Sheppard)

Written by gerifitzsimmons

Suppressing the urge to bark, I watched breathlessly. The leaves parted. The emerald eyes were staring at me. Its mouth split and a pink tongue snaked out. Nonchalantly it lifted its paw and began to lick it. Then it slapped its striped tail against the fence and sort of rolled its head. It stood up, easily perching on those narrow spikes, and the golden fur rolled and unrolled as if there was nothing beneath it.

‘A pitiful excuse for a dog.’ The words came from a throat that seemed to be yawning instead of talking. I hadn’t planned on a conversation so I was at a loss for words. I lay there staring at the strange beast, worrying how dangerous it could be, wondering which idea was best, stay real still—or run yelping for the backdoor.

I’d almost opted for the run when it said, ‘this is Kelsey’s dig. When did you move in?’ as if I’d polluted the neighborhood.

‘Kelsey’s still here.’ I said while stretching my neck as high as it would go. Just a slight reminder that Kelsey was one big dude and, ‘We live together.’

‘Hmmm...’ It stretched one paw straight up in the air and rippled her back fur in that weird way. ‘Kelsey must be thrilled with that.’

‘We make do.’

‘Suppose Kelsey doesn’t have a choice.’ It yawned displaying little pointy teeth. Then it looked at the end of the paw it had just stretched and …Damn! It unsheathed some deadly appearing long white nails and for an instant, I pictured my red blood dripping from them. Again the backdoor looked inviting, but I hated putting my tail between my legs and running. ‘Do you have a dig nearby?’

‘Muffin!’ It snarled. ‘I own the little brat next door.’

Muffin? I gathered she was telling me her name. She was more the color of the stuff Annie spread on Ben’s muffins. I didn’t mention this fact only asked, ‘So what’s a brat?’

‘A small human.’ She spread her jaws so again her fangs showed. ‘They can be fun, but mostly they’re disagreeable creatures. You have to train them from the start or they think they own you.’ She licked her paw, ran it across her snout several times, then yawned to expose her teeth. ‘In my case, I own this tiresome six- year- old girl. She rides me around in a carriage with her doll.’

And I remembered, Kelsey had said Annie wanted one of those brats. Would Ben give her one? Muffin didn’t sound too thrilled with hers. I figured the more I kept Muffin yapping the less apt she’d be to stick them fangs in me, so I asked, ‘You don’t like to ride in the carriage?’

‘Oh, that’s all right. It’s when she puts those stupid clothes on me. That’s when I gave her a few scratches to teach her who’s boss.’ She took her time lifting one paw then the other allowing me an excellent view of her exposed claws as she examined them. ‘Mind you, I only used a light touch. A nice red shade without blood. The brat yowled as if I’d torn the hide off her arm.’ The golden fur rippled down Muffin’s back as if the spine beneath were shivering. ‘Ah yes, Lucy refused to let the brat torment me for nearly a week.’ She stretched, arching her neck, and then let her tail swish slowly back and forth.

Was she preparing to pounce! Lucy? ‘Who’s Lucy?’ I stood up with the question, preparing myself for quick flight. I didn’t care for nice red shades marking my hide either. With any luck and a lot of speed I might make the porch.

Muffin sat back on her haunches and moved her head side to side. ‘Oh do sit still. You are the most nervous pooch—I can’t imagine how Kelsey tolerates you. Lucy, of course, is the brat’s mum. She had a pops too, when I first moved in but he’s gone now. That’s fine because all he did was yell. So what do they call you?’

I thought about that for a whole second. Afraid she’d accuse me of not having a name I blurted out, ‘Arnold.’ I could have said runt considering the response I got.

‘Arnold? Arnold, ar…no…ld,” came out mixed in with hoots and yowls. Muffin leaped in the air and disappeared over the fence.

‘Grrrr grrrr …’ Kelsey came bounding across the yard. Oddly her jaunt hadn’t taken its usual toll or something revived her. She came to a skidding halt at the fence, just missed smashing into it, while she kept up that incessant growling.

I was slinking away when she turned on me. ‘You let that feline menace in my yard!’ She swatted me and I did a head over paws tumble twice before landing on my back.

“KELSEY! You cut that out!” Ben yelled but didn’t come to my rescue. He parked on the ground pushing and pulling on his legs and feet. This was his post jaunt ritual. “Leave Arnold be,” wasn’t nearly as strong as I could have hoped for.

‘Yip, yip, I thought I was chasing a squirrel.’ I sniveled in self-defense while rolling on to my belly with my nose pressed into the ground. I even tinkled a little to prove how scared I was.

‘You are a sorry sight.’ Kelsey shook herself all over; tossing her large head left to right, and then plopped down. She cradled her muzzle on her front paws and glared at me.

‘Dumb, dummier, dumbest.’ She seemed to be changing my name. ‘You have no idea what a cat is? It’s a rotten pest worse than any squirrel because humans let them live in our houses. They get fed better than we do, bathe in our water dish, walk all over the chairs and tables—climb on the drapes and scratch up anything that takes their fancy—that includes a stupid pup.’ Kelsey closed her eyes and sighed.

Content with Kelsey in a teaching mood, I wiggled closer and spread out. ‘Did that cat live here?’

‘In a rat’s ass,’ Kelsey growled low in her throat. ‘I would have taken that orange nuisance by her tail and tossed her out the first window. She’d fly higher than a stupid pup.’

‘I suppose cats are bothersome…’ I wanted to change her train of thought as I had a quick flash of Arnold crossing the sun. ‘Do humans like them better than us?’

Kelsey opened her eyes in that stare that sends shivers darting all over me. She groaned. ‘I don’t think so. Cats are just obnoxious and demanding creatures—who do nothing for no one and some humans like that. They say they’re independent—like to see where they’d crap if humans didn’t clean their litter box—probably poop on the floor like you.’

Not daring to argue that I went on newspaper, which Annie said was very smart, I stupidly asked, ‘What’s a litter box?’

‘Dumb, dummier, dumbest,’ came out through a yawn as Kelsey closed her eyes. Apparently the lesson on cats was over for now.

A slight breeze had kicked up and Kelsey’s warm belly looked appealing, I wiggled closer to take advantage of a pleasant snooze in the soft grass.

I looked up and saw that branch hanging on the fence move slightly. I watched the golden face peek through. Muffin wore a grin as she regally perched on a thin spike, and leisurely cleaned those unsheathed claws.