The Case of the Missing Human

All men are dogs, they say. But not all dogs are men.

And I should know. My name’s Sophie. I’m a private eye. And yes, I’m a dog. But I’m a bitch.

****

Things were looking pretty good that Friday morning when That Woman came into the back room of my office. I don’t let just anybody do that, but That Woman and I have a history, you might say.

“Good morning,” she said.

I said nothing, just yawned and looked at her. That Woman knew what do and she did it. Made a fuss over me like she does. I took it like my due, because it was, and then I led her from the room. She didn’t simply follow; she trailed along in my wake. Oh yes, she knew what to do all right.

That Man was already up and about when we got to his place. Alternately pounding away at the keyboard, staring off into space. I swatted at his legs a few times until the pounding and the staring stopped.

Words, words. Buzz, buzz. They always think I know what they’re saying. It’s a convenient fiction — convenient for me — and for the most part I let them believe it because for the most part they deliver what I’m looking for. I can always tell. My name crops up in there somewhere, Blah blah blah blah sophie blah blah and then they look at me all expectantly. I wag a little to encourage it, like C’mon, c’mon, I know you want to feed me or walk me or attend to me, c’mon Human you can do it, good human, gooood human but sometimes it takes a while to get through their thick heads.

But this morning, That Man knew what I wanted right away. There was just one blah and then sophie and then he bent down and picked me up. Even though I’m not that kind of girl as a rule, I let him get away with it this time. That Man’s always good for a quick ride in the morning and today was no exception.

We went downstairs and he put me on the floor.

That Woman and That Man blahblahed at each other for a couple minutes but I didn’t hear sophie so I lost interest and wandered off back into the back room to take care of some overdue business. Then I trotted back into the main room and did a quick survey of its contents.

Chair, sofa, table, Big Glowing Box — all that was there of course. Those Humans always make sure their own stuff is close to hand but I didn’t care about all that. No, I was after this. Fox. Turtle. Lambie. Bone. Squeakers firmly in place. Good. I gave them all a test squeeze just to be sure. Excellent. All was well.

Or was it?

No more blahblahs coming from the kitchen. I sniffed around my empty bowl and then around the floor. The trail was cold at the former but That Man, I could tell, had wandered back upstairs; I could smell the carpet fibers still uncoiling on the lower stair steps. As for That Woman…

She had a habit of pulling a disappearing act, suddenly absent just when I needed her most, and that’s what happened this time. She must have waited till my back was turned and then slipped away unseen. But where…?

I trotted from the kitchen to the living room, sniffing as I went. She’d passed by here recently, not once but twice. There was the trip to the kitchen of course, which left one trip, which meant…

Yes, there she was! Rounding the corner at the end of the hall! I gunned the engine but just as I too made the left-hand turn all I saw of her was an ankle and foot, disappearing into the ultra-back room, the room where That Woman and That Man did their private business.

I fired a warning bark over her head but she ignored me. She closed the door behind her.

Locked out. I. Was. Locked. Out. The blank whiteness before me yawned like nighttime’s worst enemy. It yielded neither to my frenzied forepaw attentions nor to my voice.

Locked out.

From the living room I heard the caterwauling of that pathetic elderly scamp Dill and ran to ask for her help. As usual, she tried to ignore me, just walking oh so gracefully and silently across the floor, gliding almost. I’ll never understand why the cat does that — what’s the point of crossing a room if it’s not to draw attention to yourself?

But Dill as usual was in her own little world and she drifted away from me as though I didn’t even exist. In a frenzy, I ran after her. How to get her attention…?

Of course. The solution was so obvious.

I jammed my nose up against her butt as hard as I could and then backed off for the inevitable reaction. As expected, Dill whirled, lunged out at me, but I was already out of reach.

She glared at me. Measuring the distance. Calculating how much damage she could do before I huddled beneath my paws.

But I interrupted her, timed it just right too. I barked the alarm at her: That Woman! Gone! Gonegonegone do you understand me? GONE!

Dill looked at me, coldly, scorn oozing from her features. She turned and shot effortlessly up the stairs, leaving me open-mouthed in mid-exclamation. What was wrong with that stupid cat?

I went to the foot of the stairs and barked once, twice, three times: Gone… Gone… Gone!

Suddenly there was That Man, standing at the landing above the very top step. Blah? he said. Blah blah BLAH blah? I waited, patiently.

Finally he got the message. He walked down the stairs, rolling his eyes, and I herded him to the kitchen. Blah sophie, he said, blah blah blah.

I was going to tell him about That Woman’s disappearance but he put a bowl of my favorite chow on the floor and, I’m sorry to say, I sank into oblivion for a few minutes. When I came to, they both were out of sight.

My investigations continue.