Hot Dog

By C. Duane Hague

“I hate that dog!” Austin shouted to his sister Diane, as they sped recklessly past the Elliotts’ farmhouse. A trail of dust rose from the graveled country road behind them.

“He scares me!” Diane shouted back.

Austin was scared of him too. In fact, he was more afraid of Killer than almost anything. But he’d never admit that to his little sister. Looking back, he saw that she was having a tough time keeping up.

Slowing, he threw his bike into a gravel sweeping 180 as he skidded to a stop. Austin watched as Diane attempted to match his skill, almost losing it in the process. Dust from their passage hung thickly in the blistering August air.

“I’ve never seen that dog just lie there like that,” Diane said, easing her bike up next to her brother’s. Her words came in ragged gasps as she struggled to catch her breath.

Austin, suffering from summer allergies, sniffed mightily and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Something’s not right,” Austin agreed. Normally, the huge chow would have been all bark, teeth, and growls; terrorizing anyone that came within his range.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Diane suggested. Her blue eyes shown with pity. She loved all animals--even this one.

“You think? Maybe we oughta check it out,” Austin suggested. His Nike’s crunched on the gravel as he got off his bike. As they backtracked, Austin looked closely to make sure that Killer was chained securely. He shuddered at the thought of that dog getting loose.

A large metal pan lay upside down in the treeless yard. Austin could see a hose snaking through the arid desert of dry dandelion stalks. One end was screwed onto a faucet that protruded from the side of the house.

“Looks like he’s knocked over his water,” Diane said.

“You wait here with the bikes,” Austin ordered. “I’m going to see if I can fill his pan. That poor dog might die of thirst before the Elliotts get home.” From where they were standing, the entire yard and house were visible. Keeping a wary eye on the dog, Austin crossed over the culvert that spanned the weed choked ditch and started down the long gravel driveway. As he approached the vacant carport, Killer suddenly leapt to his feet and charged, lunging at Austin from the end of his chain; snarling and growling; saliva dripping from its menacing teeth like snake venom. The dog’s eyes flashed red in the sunlight.

Panicked by the chow’s sudden return to life, Austin sought refuge inside the carport. His heart thundered and his breath came in gasps of terror. It was several long minutes before he was able to calm down enough to think rationally. Looking around, he noticed a thermometer tacked to the side of the house. The red column of mercury was well above the 100 mark.

It took all the courage he could muster, but Austin finally stepped from the protection of the carport and called soothingly to the chow. The dog, having flopped back down, lifted his head from between his paws at the sound of Austin’s voice and watched as Austin made his way along the front of the house to the faucet. Killer must have expended all his energy with that fearful display of watch-doggyness. He didn’t even bother to get up, just lay there with his tongue lolling tiredly from one side of his mouth.

As Austin cranked open the faucet, the hose quickly filled with water. A fine mist emerged from the nozzle. The pressure encouraged the hose to propel itself through the prickly grass in a lazy arc. The chow, noticing the movement, got to his feet. Pinning the hose with one paw, Killer discovered the mist and began licking at it thirstily.

Fear clutched at Austin’s stomach as he approached the water dish. Flipping the pan right side up, he reached down and lifted the hose, pulling the nozzle toward him. The dog followed the mist until the end of the hose raised from the ground. Then he backed off, an inquisitive expression on his furry face.

After filling the dog’s pan, Austin stepped back, his fear beginning to fade. The chow advanced on the shimmering container and began lapping noisily.

While the dog drank, Austin reached out with his left hand, still holding the hose in his right. Surprised, he jerked it away. The chow’s thick red fur was so hot that it felt as though it was on fire. Killer side-stepped slightly, but continued lapping at the water. Adjusting the nozzle to mist, Austin sprayed it over the dog’s back, petting him as he did so. The chow seemed to like his cool touch. With a sudden shudder, Killer began shaking himself. Bright sparkling water flew in all directions, creating a miniature rainbow and filling the air with the pungent odor of wet dog.

Blinded by the cast off water, Austin spun around. As he made to escape, Killer leaped and planted both front paws against Austin’s back, propelling him in a staggering lurch. Unable to recover his balance, Austin fell flat on his stomach, the breath whooshing from his lungs. Gasping, he immediately twisted around, his arms raised to fend off the attacking dog.

Killer’s incredible strength easily overpowered Austin’s efforts. Knowing that this was the end, he squeezed his eyes shut.

It wasn’t until Austin felt the dog’s slithery tongue that he realized he was still among the living. Opening one eye, he could see Killer’s tail swishing from side to side as he applied his tongue, coating Austin’s face with slobbery dog kisses.

Killer’s reputation as a killer was ruined.

Getting to his feet and petting Killer, Austin looked across to where Diane was patiently tending the bicycles. “Come on, Diane. Come say hi to Killer!”

By the time Austin and his sister mounted their bikes and shoved off for home, they were thoroughly drenched from playing with the dog and the garden hose. They were cool and so was Killer.

As Austin peddled leisurely along, he said, “I love that dog!”

And Diane said, “I’m not scared of him anymore!”