Ms Eileen

by John F. Dillon

Two, full-throated German Shepherds erupted in rage at the first drops of the sudden Florida downpour. Their howling upset the beauty of a dream.

Fred lifted his head and squinted through crusty lids as the vision faded. With comprehension came anger. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed to himself. "They left those dogs on the patio again. He took a deep breath and reached for the telephone." Speaking just above a whisper, so not to disturb his still sleeping wife Fred registered another grievance with the police.

"This is the third time this week," he lamented, knowing very little could be done. A patrol car would be dispatched. An officer would knock on the door of the empty condominium, walk around the complex, return to the car, and write another warning to attach to the door of offending unit.

He was still seething at breakfast. "You slept through all the fun again," he told his wife, Clementine.

Clementine looked across the table. "The dogs?"

Fred spread orange marmalade on an English muffin. "Ah huh...Our considerate neighbors went out and left them on the patio again. And, it was raining."

"Did you call the cops?"

"Of course."

The corners of his wife's mouth lifted slightly. "Did they send a SWAT team?"

The image behind his wife's remark elicited a smile. He waited a moment then sighed, "They probably just left another warning on the door." He paused, shrugged his shoulders and reached for his coffee mug. As he lifted the mug to his lips, his voice dropped and he mumbled, "Well....At least the complaint is on record. If someone should one day murder the owners,  I know I'll be questioned "

A puzzled Clementine lifted her eyes, "So? Why... Why would you want to be?"

"Then I'll be one of the first to know they're gone," Fred laughed.

Clementine shook her head and returned to her reading. After a spell she jokingly asked, "Didn't you have pets in New York?"

Fred smiled. "Not in my neighborhood. We were so poor that anything that walked and wasn't human, was cooked in a pot." He peeked over the brim of his cup. "You farmers never had to worry."

"Oh.... You poor thing," his wife mocked.

"Not so poor, he beamed. I got you."

Her teeth gleaned behind a wide smile. "You smooth talker...you." She reached for Fred's hand before returning to her morning newspaper. After a few quiet minutes, she asked, "Are you packed?"

Fred glanced over his section of paper and nodded while he spoke. "A grad-student is handling my afternoon class so Ill be home early. I thought we might make it a nice leisurely ride...take the scenic route and spend the night in Apalachicola at the Gibson Hotel. We should be at the farm about three the next day."

"Just like a second honeymoon."

Fred smiled lecherously and was about to speak when an article in the newspaper caught his attention. Soon, they were both absorbed in their reading and conversation ceased. Eventually, Fred put the paper aside and rose from the table. He touched his wife's shoulder on the way to the kitchen. "Want more coffee?" he asked.

Clementine nodded and lowered a section of the newspaper as he passed. "You know we could move...find someplace where they don't allow dogs."

Fred became indignant. "Why should I move? They should be the ones to move," he relied gesturing with outstretched arms."They're the ones that leave their dogs out in the rain."

He calmed as he returned carrying the pot of coffee to the table. He first refilled Clementine's cup, then the white mug stenciled #1 in large red letters. "Its not the dogs," he said, "Its the people," and lowered into the chair. "Why cant they take care of their animals? ...be responsible. You know pick up after their pets! No consideration! And God! ...such big dogs! Its disgusting." He lifted the mug to his lips, took a deep breath, and murmured, "I don't know what they get out of owning a dog anyway. What good are they. Except to keep you up at night. Most of all people should not be able to have large animals in these small apartments!"

The recent memory of his entering the condominium holding a shoe between his thumb and index finger while emitting obscenities, invoked an involuntary giggle from his wife. To keep from laughing aloud, she focused on their coming Christmas visit to Wetumpka, Alabama.

Clementine had been raised on the eighty acres of mostly rolling hills in which only ten were on open level ground and worked to produce cotton. The remainder of the land was comprised of woods, a creek, fruit trees, figs, wild berries, chickens, a pig, dogs, and three houses.

It had once been the property of slaves freed after the civil war and remained with that family until purchased by Clementines great-grandfather in the later part of the nineteenth century. He built a simple two-story farmhouse at the entrance and bridled it with a five-foot-wide, wrap-around porch. Open windows permitted comforting summer breezes and a single fireplace kept the indoors cozy during the winter months.

Clementine father died when she was a young girl. Her mother was left to raise four children, two boys and two girls. Brother Bill was the oldest. Clementine was the youngest.

Bill lived with wife Millie and eleven-year-old son Little Bill, approximately one hundred miles south of the farm on the outskirts of the city of Dothan.

Sister Ruth's husband Phil, an engineer, had a four-bedroom ranch house built adjacent to the farmhouse where they resided with their two boys, Harry and Phil junior.

Brother Mike, a year older than Clementine, worked the farm. He and his family occupied a large modern home on the north side of the cotton field near a barn, a chicken coop, and a pen to house the single resident pig.

Clementine's mother was a meticulous woman that most comfortable in a flowered house dress that was always half hidden by a spotless white apron, continued to live in the farmhouse. She had a petite mouth with a near constant smile that merged into the aged lines of her round face. Her eyes belied a personality that loved to banter and woo. Gentle, gray-blue eyes with just a hint of a devilish twinkle gazed from behind tiny-rimmed spectacles. They appeared to be always searching, listening, and laughing. Everyone, but her offspring, called this short, stocky woman with the silver hair tucked into a tight bun on the nap of her neck, Miss Eileen. Watching this mythical grandmother in her eighties scrutinize the pots of food cooking in her kitchen, or seeing her shuffle between the buildings, the youths in the family affectionately nicknamed her The Little Tank. To the very young, she was Granny.

Three days before Christmas, Miss. Eileen anxiously waited while Fred drove across the Coosa River Bridge, turned onto the dirt road, and proceeded to the farmhouse. Once the car stopped, Clementine ran to the porch and into the outstretched arms of her mother. Fred took his time and stood to one side.

At last, Miss. Eileen turned moist eyes to Fred. The corners of her mouth made an upward quiver as the lips widened to an open smile. "Lordly, I do believe you get more handsome each time I see you," she squealed as she moved from her daughter.

Fred gently pinched her chubby cheeks. "Better clean your glasses," he good-naturedly replied.

They both laughed and moved into an embrace.

"Are you staying for my birthday party?" she asked. "Its January fourteenth."

"Cant," Fred moaned. "University commitments...I gotta return to Florida on Monday." He paused, and then told her, "Clem's staying. She's gonna drive me to the airport."

Miss Eileen grimaced. Oh well. We'll try and make it a nice visit while you're here." She pointed to the wooden staircase. "You and Clem have the bedroom upstairs,' she said then smiled. "Hope you brought your appetite."

"Sure did! I've been looking forward to some good 'Southern' Cooking'."

He was not disappointed. Each morning, before the rooster crow, Fred was roused from the comfort of the feathered bed by aromas from the kitchen and was first at the table. He also was the last to leave. Although he never did develop a taste for grits, he seldom refused offers of fresh eggs, sausage, fried chicken, pork chops, bacon, home-fried potatoes, gravy covered biscuits, rolls, and cakes.

All the while Miss Eileen sat watching and proclaiming, "Lordly, Lordly. That boy can sure eat."

As the outdoor temperatures lowered to under forty degrees, Fred found it harder and harder to leave the warmth of the kitchen. The day before Christmas, he was enjoying his fourth cup of coffee and a third slice of his mother-in-laws freshly baked coffee cake, when the kitchen door opened. Clementine and Ruth were so excited their words ran together when they entered.

"Fred! Fred! You gotta come and see!" Clementine exclaimed while attempting to rub the cold from her fingers.

Fred continued stuffing warm cake into his mouth and uttered a barely audible, "What. where?"

"The barn!"

Fred swallowed, wiped his chin and casually asked, "What's in the barn?" He had no intention on leaving the kitchen.

"Puppies! Come see! Mike's 'Pit Bull Dog', Maggie had puppies! Oh, they're so cute...only babies...still sucking on their mother."

The thought of trekking the frozen ground to the barn was not appealing and Fred hesitated. "Now why in God's name would I want to leave the warmth of the kitchen to see a dog?" he asked asked himself. He looked at his wife and uttered, I'm not gonna...."

"Oh! Fred.... You gotta see these puppies! Come on!"

Despite his reluctance to leave the warm kitchen, Fred eventually surrendered to his wife's pleads and pushed away from the table. He gently touched Miss. Eileen shoulder as she passed to clear the dishes.

"Ain't you coming?" he asked, while reaching to the door hook bearing his coat.

"Soon as I clean up," she replied. "Only take a second...meet you there."

"I could...."

"No. No. You go. I'll meet you there. Only take a second."

Mike was standing off to the side and nodded when they entered the barn. On a mixture of straw and a dirty rumpled blanket, three puppies, two black males and one brown female, were greedily mashing the tits of their reclined mother.

Fred returned Mikes greeting with the question, "Who's the father?"

The black Lab on the next farm...musta screwed every bitch within fifty miles.

Engrossed in watching the puppies feed; Clementine and Ruth continued emitting, "Oh's" and "Ah's" It was not long before Miss. Eileen joined the observers. She bent to her knees and gently lifted and petted each puppy while occasionally exclaiming, "Oh! Lordly.... Lordly,"

"How old are they?" Fred asked Mike.

"Six weeks...just about to come off the mother".

Clementine turned to Fred. "Aren't they cute? she asked, paused, and turned back to the feeding frenzy. "Which one do you like?"

Fred's eyes widened. "Clem! No dogs! You know how I feel about dogs....especially in apartments. And, those dogs are gonna be big. Just look at their paws."

"I just asked which one you liked."

Fred hesitated, "Well...ah...."

"I promise. We wont make you take one," Mike laughed

"Fred became unsettled and gave in to the pressure. "I...uh...I guess.... I don't....either of the black ones."

"Well? Which one?" Ms. Eileen asked.

"I don't know. They both look the same."

"Both males are spoken for", Mike informed them. "Christmas presents. I gotta drop them off tomorrow morning." He glanced at Fred and smiled. "No one asked for the female yet. Reckon ya can have her."

"No...No thanks," Fred snarled.

Little Bill had remained with his Aunt and Uncle when his mother and father returned to Dothan earlier in the week. Overhearing the banter when he entered the barn, he made a mad dash to the slurping puppies while shrieking, "I want her! I want her!" Kneeling before the bitch, he pulled the tiny female to his chest.

Ruth laughed. "Not so fast Little Bill."I think ya better check with your Dad about that."

"He'll let me have her!"

Miss. Eileen suggested, "Let's give your father a call and be sure."

It was a long telephone call with the boy pleading and his father first declaring an emphatic, "No way!" However, after much cajoling from his mother and sisters, and exacting promises from his son, Bill reluctantly agreed to a trial run to test the boys pledge to care for the dog.

The agreement caused Fred to quietly draw a sigh of relief.

With the exception of the children having sniffles over the holiday, Christmas was a day of joy. When Monday came, Fred, echoing promises to telephone every night, grudgingly returned alone to Fort Lauderdale.

One evening, Mikes youngest son Harry answered. Miss. Eileen's telephone on the second ring. Upon recognizing Fred's voice, the boy yelled, "Uncle Fred! Guess what?"

Before Fred could reply the boy shouted, "Granny named the pig!"

Thinking that it had something to doe with the dog, Fred gave a sigh of relief. "That's nice, Harry," he replied. "Is your Aunt Clementine there?"

"Know what she named it?"

Annoyed, Fred took a deep breath and snapped, "What?"

"Guess! Guess what Granny named the pig!"

Fred sighed, "I don't know...Porky?"

"No!" Harry gleefully squealed, "She named it Fred...after you!"

There was an awkward moment before Fred replied. "Its nice to know somebody's thinking about me when I'm not there," he said. "Now can I speak with your aunt?"

A disappointed Harry passed the telephone to his aunt.

Instead of a warm greeting, Clementine blurted, "My brother won't take the puppy."

It seemed an eternity before Fred responded. " Won't take the.... I don't understand. Didn't he already say it was okay?"

"Ruth called a little while ago. She and Phil left with the kids this morning to spend New Year's Eve with Phil's parents in Miami. They were supposed to drop Little Bill and the puppy in Dothan. Everything seemed fine when they got there. My brother liked the dog and...and.... Anyway, they were having a cup of coffee when Little Bill said he was going outside to play with his friends. My brother told him to first walk the dog. Well, Little Bill put up a fuss insisting he wanted to go with his friends. One thing led to another and Phil and Ruth are now headed to Miami with the puppy.

There was another long pause before Fred asked, "They...they gonna keep the dog?"

"Cant! They're not permitted to have pets in his parents condo...not even for a little while."

Fred held his breath. Finally, he asked, "Whatta they gonna do?"

Clementine hesitated. Her voice was muted when she responded. "I thought maybe she could drop the puppy off on her way".

"What? No! No way! Clem...you know how I feel about having a dog".

"It's just.... It's just Ruth can't bring it to the condo. Just for a couple of weeks until I get home. Ill take her to a shelter when I get there. I promise."

" NO! I dont want a dog. No way! Clem...how many times have I told you?"

"I know...but.... Mom wants to talk to you."

Before Fred could protest, Miss. Eileen's voice was on the telephone. "Hi Freddy. I'm sorry about naming the pig. I didn't mean.... "

"I'm not upset about the pig," he told her.

"I...ah...was watching you...uh.... You were gone and I didn't think you'd mind.  I wasn't gonna tell you until you came up again."

"No problem," he told her. "I mean it. I'm not upset about the pig. Clem told me how much you love the pig and how you bring food to him every day. Besides, its nice that you'll be thinking of me. Could you give me back to Clem... please?"

Miss. Eileen ignored him. She giggled, "I just love watching him eat. I'll make you something special the next time you come up...something just for you." Her voice lowered, and she asked, "Fred, would you do me a favor?"

"Here it comes," Fred said to himself. He took a deep breath before replying, then said. "Now, you know I told Clem...."

"It's just for a little while. Lordly, you know I wouldn't ask if we had any choice.

"It's just.... "

"I know," she said, and waited.

Fred took a deep breath then relented. "Can't tell the biggest animal lover in the world that I don't like dogs," he silently snickered then said, "Okay, but only for you and on one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ask me to keep it after Clem comes home and one more thing." He deliberately paused before playfully telling her, "You let me name the puppy after you. I'll call her: Ms Eileen."

His mother-in-law giggled.

The following morning, Fred went to the pet store and purchased dog food, a bowl, biscuits, and a rawhide bone. He placed everything into an oversized cardboard box before leaving the store. When he got home, he tore a newspaper into small pieces and scattered the scraps inside the cardboard box. He then placed the box inside a lean-to previously erected on the patio. He was determined the animal would spend as little time as possible in the house.

The puppy arrived late that afternoon. Phil and the boys remained in the car while Ruth took the dog inside. Obviously uncomfortable, she avoided eye contact. Fred attempted to reassure her but the effort was half-hearted and they both welcomed an excuse to end the visit.

Despite a desire to remain detached, Fred could not help but concede tenderness for the cute animal that fit in his hand. The puppy had a black snout, and a thin black mask that enclosed eyes accented in long lashers and ending in elongated tips at the comers. The underside of her thick coat was almost white. It gradually turned to gold and finally into light brown on her back. A lemon colored band wrapped her shoulders like a scarf. Brown floppy ears fell alongside a pink leather collar that had been placed about her diminutive neck. Although, the buckle was on the smallest notch, he could still comfortably place his fingers between the collar and the animals soft fur. Fred correctly surmised it was a gift from his mother-in-law.

The puppy made a soft cry when he released it into the box.

"Its only for a couple of weeks," Fred told himself.

Sometime after dinner, Fred took the dog for a walk. There was another soft whimper when he returned the puppy to the paper. Fred placed a bowl of water beside the lean-to before leaving the patio.

Before retiring, he checked the curled fur in the box.

The wind increased during the night and it began to rain. Wakened by the sound, Fred continually checked to insure the box remained dry within the lean-to. Growing storm activity resulted in another two hours of troubled sleep and more trips to the box. During one visit, a flash of lightening followed a deafening clash of thunder, and highlighted the enclosure. Almost immediately, light from a second flash revealed the frightened critter in a corner.

Fred checked to insure the lean-to protected the box from the rain and was about to return to his bed when the trembling pups wide-eyed face was illuminated by still another lighting bolt. Fred grimaced. He took two steps toward the door and stopped. "Oh what the hell," he groaned. "It's only for one night," and returned to the patio.

A few minutes later, Fred lay in his bed with the puppy cuddled against his hip. He lowered his hand to the animals little chest. The dog emitted a sigh, stretched, and fell asleep. Fred woke a few more times to return his hand to a spot above the puppy's heartbeat. In the morning, he took it for a walk before going to the University. He walked her again when he came home. After the final walk of the evening, he removed the lean-to from the patio.

Although it did not rain that night, a content Ms Eileen lay stretched against Fred hip. Fred hand rested over the puppy's heart. The following morning, They visited a veterinarian. The receptionist smiled as Fred approached with the puppy.

"Your puppy?" she asked.

"Yes...Yes. She's mine," a smiling Fred replied while gently stoking the dogs neck. "Her name is Ms Eileen. Named her after my mother-in-law. She named a pig after me."

The girl smiled.

The End.

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