MODERN FABLES, Loyal, Ch. 6, Duke and Duchess

LOYAL

 

Loyal: "unswerving in allegiance."

Your family and friends, your community, and your country can all rely on your faithful support.

 

CHAPTER 6: DUKE AND DUCHESS

 

“Tess, isn’t that Eddie coming up the street?”

 

“Where?” Tess looked up from her notebook, where she had been doodling “Eduardo Gomez.”

 

“He’s walking that big German Shepherd by our house. Again. Tess, is this notebook yours or Eddie’s?”

 

“Mine, Mom.”

 

“But Eddie’s name is written across the front. Unless you’ve changed yours to Eduardo.”

 

“Oh, Mom. I just like the way his name looks.”

 

“And you like the way he looks, too.”

 

“Well...yes.”

 

“I’ve often seen him walking his German Shepherd past our house lately. I don’t remember his doing that a lot before.”

 

“He likes to take her to the park. In fact, I see him coming up the hill with Duchess right now.”

 

“’Duchess’?”

 

“That’s his dog’s name. It’s funny. Our German Shepherd was named ‘Duke.’ If he were still alive, they would be Duke and Duchess.”

 

“I miss Duke, dear.”

 

“So do I, Mom. Will we get another soon?”

 

“I’m not quite ready, but I do want another dog, either a German Shepherd or a Golden Retriever.”

 

Mrs. Williams went back to doing some dusting, thinking about her little girl, who was not so little anymore, and who clearly had a crush on Eddie Gomez, who seemed like a good kid.

 

Outside, Tess yelled, “Hi, Eddie. What’s up?”

 

“Walking Duchess to the park. Want to come?”

 

“Yes, I do. I wish our Duke hadn’t died last year. Maybe the two dogs would have been friends.”

 

“Duke and Duchess.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I felt very safe with Duke around,” said Tess, “and so did the rest of the family. He never bit anybody, but he looked like he might if they gave us trouble.”

 

“Duchess hasn’t bitten any people, either, but she has beaten up a few other dogs. She wants to be the boss dog. Some guy let his Pit Bull Terrier loose, and it came after Duchess. They went for each other’s necks, and then Duchess had a better idea: she reached down and grabbed the other dog’s front leg in her mouth, picked it up, and she wouldn’t let go. The Pit Bull was stuck and couldn’t do anything to her.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“The other owner came and very carefully got his dog back on the leash. I haven‘t seen them since.”

 

“Served them right,” Tess said.

 

As they walked, Eddie continued to praise his dog. “She’s smart, too. She sleeps in my room most nights, and last week I was just getting to sleep when she banged her water dish with her paw to tell me she wanted more water. I didn’t want to get up, so I just lay there. She  used her mouth to pick up her dish, and she placed it on my pillow, then licked it to show me it was empty.”

 

“Wow! That was smart. What did you do?”

 

“I got up and filled her dish with water. She had earned it.”

 

Not to be too outdone, Tess said, “Our Duke was smart, too. He would stand close to the front door and bark if he wanted to go on the porch. He would stand about a yard back from the front door and bark if he wanted to go for a walk. If you tried to put him on the porch when he wanted a walk, he wouldn’t go, knowing that once he was on the porch, we hardly heard him, so he couldn’t easily tell us he wanted a walk.”

 

“Smart dogs!” Eddie agreed. “Good protection, too. Nobody who comes to the door will get past Duchess if she doesn’t know them. Even though my dad’s a cop, my mother doesn’t want guns in the house when he’s not home, so a tough dog, a tough-looking dog anyway, is really good.”

 

“We feel safer with a dog, too, so we will get another. Duke was a sweetheart, and we miss him. We are almost ready to get a puppy.”

 

Three months later, the Williams family bought another German Shepherd, a puppy. They named him “King,” outranking a Duke or a Duchess. Eddie laughed when he heard the name applied to that small ball of fur, but he was careful not to laugh about it in front of Tess.

  

Moral: Life is a team sport. Where you can, support your team.

MODERN FABLES, CH. 5, Trustworthy, SOMETHING FISHY

  

“What are the fish doing down here?” I asked my nine-year-old brother, Tim. His fishbowl with two swimming goldfish sat nearby on the living room table.

 

“They’re watching television with me.”

 

Our dog, Duke, had died only a week before, and the fish were the only pets we had left. We were all a little lonely without Duke. Smart dog. Good dog. His death left a hole in our home.

 

“What are you watching, Tim?”

 

“Sponge Bob.”

 

“That’s about sea creatures. Do you think the fish like the program?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Be careful bringing them back upstairs to your room.”

 

“Yup.”

 

The next morning was a Saturday. I got up late. When Tim came to the breakfast table, he looked sad, almost crying.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“One of my fish died.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Did you do anything different?”

 

“No.”

 

“Where is it now?”

 

“In a baggie.”

 

“Zipped closed, I hope.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you going to throw it away?”

 

“No. Bury it.”

 

“I’ll help you in a minute.”

 

I finished my coffee, grabbed a shovel from the shed, and went with Tim to a far corner of our back yard.

 

“Here, OK?”

 

“Yup.”

 

I dug down about a foot. Tim laid the bagged goldfish at the bottom of the pit, and we put the dirt back on top. Tim had a flat stone with the letter “F” written on it, and he placed it on top of the grave.

 

“Tim, what’s the ‘F’ for? Fish?”

 

“Fred.”

 

When Tess asked me what our little brother had been doing, I told her. She started to laugh at the burial and the stone. I warned her not to let Tim know she was not taking his loss seriously. To Tim, Fred had been very important.

Moral: Being trustworthy isn't just about telling the truth. Sometimes it means protecting someone's feelings when they've trusted you with them.

MODERN FABLES, Ch. 4, TO SNITCH OR NOT?

  

“Dad, can we talk?”

 

“Sure, Rick. What’s up?”

 

“Something happened after football practice today. I don’t know how to handle it.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“A bunch of us stopped at the convenience store by the school and bought some snacks. A couple of the guys hid part of what they took and didn’t pay for it.”

 

“Shoplifting.”

 

“Right. The guys didn’t take much, but they did steal. Do I need to report them to somebody?’

 

“What do you think?”

 

Rick hesitated. He’d been wrestling with that question all afternoon. “Well…what they did was wrong, but if I report them to the school or the coach or the store-owner, there is going to be a big deal over something that seems small.”

 

“The store-owner won’t think it is small, especially if it happens over and over again. The owner puts in a lot of work. He deserves to get paid for that.”

 

“But if I tell on them, they may get into big trouble. We are teammates, and they may never trust me. If I don’t tell, I am almost as bad as they are, going along with it.”

 

“What if you didn’t name the players, but gave the store-owner some money to cover what was taken?”

 

“I don’t think I should have to pay for what they did.”

 

“How about calling him anonymously?”

 

“He probably has caller ID. It seems a bit cowardly, too.”

 

“You’d like a way to help him prevent theft, without getting your friends in trouble, right?”

 

“Yes. I could talk to the owner and tell him what is happening, but refuse to name the thieves.”

 

“That would help. What do you think of the kids who do this?”

 

“I will trust them less in the future, myself.”

 

A few days later, I stopped by the store and spoke with the owner, apologizing for what had been done and alerting him to the problem. I said I did not want to identify the thieves, and he said he understood.

 

If their crime had been more serious, I think I would have named names. 

 

Though they remained my teammates, I felt a little less friendly toward them. I certainly would not want to leave my wallet where they could get at it unobserved.

 

 Moral: Honesty is the best policy.