Contents: Spanish Lessons, A Short Tale of Two Guitars, My Favorite Foods, Blessings, A New Short Story, Ghost Dog
Spanish Lessons
I’m learning Spanish. Here are some sentences I’ve picked up that are tailor-made for me:
Estudie espanol este verano. (I studied Spanish this summer.)
Aprendo espanol. (I am learning Spanish.)
Yo como sandia. (I eat watermelon.)
Yo como datiles. (I eat dates.)
Yo como aguacates. (I eat avocados.)
Yo como uvas (I eat grapes.)
Yo como anacardos. (I eat cashews.)
Yo enseno ciencia. (I teach science.)
Soy escritor. (I am a writer.)
Toco la guitarra y canto. (I play guitar and sing.)
Toco la guitarra acustica y electrica. (I play acoustic and electric guitar.)
A Short Tale of Two Guitars
My acoustic guitar child Alvarez now has a brother: electric guitar Epiphone. The three of us have had a happy summer getting to know each other. A new song was composed. It will be released in February, 2024.
My Favorite Foods
I am vegan. Most (but not all) of what I eat is raw vegan. (Raw means minimal processing and cooking so as to preserve the maximal nutritional value of the food.) I avoid “added sugar” and caffeine. People who know this about me often ask me what I eat. The following is an accurate list: watermelon, Medjool dates, avocados, hummus, raw vegetable chips (Brad’s), nutritional yeast, Ezekiel 4:9 bread (sprouts-based, no-flour), vegan butter, coconut oil, organic vegan no-added sugar ice cream (Holi Scoops), air-dried kale (Brad’s), Honeycrisp and Sugarbee apples, no-salt no-sugar peanut butter with cinnamon and pure cacao added, raw sweet corn, raw nuts and seeds (cashews, walnuts, almonds, pecans, macadamia nuts, etc.), grapes, cherries. Now you know. You can’t go wrong composing your daily diet from this list.
Blessings
Too many to describe here.
Focusing on recent school-related blessings: Some of my AP Chemistry and Pre-AP Biology students made exceptional scores on their end-of-year standardized exams. Thank you, conscientious students, for the extra effort! It did not go unappreciated.
A New Short Story
“Scritch, Scritch” is complete, and I’m in the process of choosing a journal for submission. Werewolves are involved.
Ghost Dog
(My most recent short story, already published, presented here in its entirety. Pleasant reading!)
• • • • •
I finally made the call.
I’d waited long enough.
“Yes. How may I help you?”
“I’d like the number for Ghost Dog.”
“What was that?”
“Ghost Dog.”
“Umm…”
“Ghost Dog Services.”
A pause, then some clicks and taps.
“What do you know? Actually, I have a Ghost Dog Endeavors. Same place?”
“Probably. Yes.”
“Here it is. X-691-2519. Unusual number.”
• • • • •
“Hello. Ghost Dog Endeavors, formerly Ghost Dog Services. Chief busybody Kathleen speaking.”
At least she’s honest.
I don’t like busybodies.
“Are you an investigator?”
“No, but I do screen for the investigators.”
“No offense, but I don’t want to be screened.”
Silence.
I could tell Kathleen didn’t like people who weren’t cooperative with the system.
“I’d like to talk to an investigator. Please.”
The magic word.
Back to kindergarten.
Kathleen sniffed, then curtly said, “Investigators don’t talk with customers over the phone. They meet them.”
“Meet them?”
“Yes. I’m not making this up. It’s weird, I know. You make an arrangement with me to meet an investigator.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“They won’t meet until you state your problem.” Pause. “Not my rule. Theirs.”
I waited.
Thinking.
“I’m having trouble with Mandarin zombies.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was walking in my neighborhood last week, very early, in the dark, when I saw a lanky, oozy, uncoordinated Mandarin zombie. Nasty thing. Dangerous looking. I turned around and went home.”
“I see.”
“I’m disappointed that I can no longer walk safely around the block. I feel my walking rights have been violated. And I need the exercise. So, I need a ghost dog’s help. ASAP.”
Kathleen was quiet. I heard clicks and taps.
“I’m setting you up with Jack. He does well with the weirder stuff. He’ll meet you at one a.m. at the base of the willow tree in Silver Sage Park. You know where that is?”
“Yes. I live near it. But why so late, um, early?”
“That’s the way ghost dogs work. Especially Jack. You want your Mandarin zombie problem fixed or not?”
“I’ll be there.”
• • • • •
There’s nothing creepier than meeting in a park at one a.m. Especially at the base of arguably the creepiest of all trees, the willow.
I stood in dim light provided by a distant, yellow street lamp, scanning the park, imagining werewolves in the shadows. The creepy willow, whipped around by the wind, looked down at me. I was a bit scared, but desperation steeled my resolve.
At 1:11, I was ready to give up the ghost dog and go back to my cozy, lycan-free home, when I heard a “psst” come from the shaded side of the tree. I squinted into the darkness and made out a shadowy silhouette.
A ghost dog silhouette.
Jack quietly walked into the light, looking up at my face intently.
“Are you Ellis?”
“Yes. You Jack?”
“Yep. Let’s not waste time. What’s your problem?”
“I’m having trouble with Mandarin zombies.”
“Kathleen told me, and no, you’re not.”
“What?”
“Mandarin zombies don’t exist.”
“They don’t?”
“No. Some sort of a cultural Zen thing. No Mandarin zombies have ever been seen.”
“Hmm.”
“And you know that already. I can tell. Don’t forget what I am. You can’t lie to a ghost dog.”
“Okay, you’re right. I was just testing you.”
“What are you up to? What do you really want? Tell me quick before I hurt you. Real bad.”
“Okay, hold on. Don’t get your tail out of alignment. I have a good reason.”
Jack stared at me coldly. Werewolves had nothing on him. “Well?”
“I need to contact a specific ghost dog, and this was the only way I knew to break through your damn ghost dog wall of secrecy.”
Jack looked at me without speaking. I sensed that he was deciding first, whether I would live or die, then second, whether he would cooperate or just send me home.
“Her name is Lily.”
“Once dogs pass on and become ghost dogs, they don’t keep their mortal names.”
“Oh. I really need to talk to Lily.”
We stood without speaking in the winter quiet of the park.
“Did she recently pass?”
“Yes. Six months ago.”
“I might be able to help. Give me some time. Kathleen will contact you when I’m ready. She’ll set up another meeting.”
“How long?”
“No way of telling. If it had been too much longer than six months, amnesia would have set in permanently, and finding her would be impossible.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m hopeful.”
Hopeful was an odd word to hear from such an otherwise matter-of-fact entity.
“So I’ll wait to hear from you, uh, Kathleen? Lovely woman, by the way.”
“Don’t lie. Now turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn so that you are facing completely away from me.”
I did so.
And waited.
And waited.
“Are you still there?”
Finally, I peeked over my shoulder. Seeing nothing, I turned all the way around.
Jack was gone.
I walked back home in the bitter cold wondering what would come of this.
• • • • •
I’d rescued Lily when she was a puppy. The shelter had named her Gertrude.
“I don’t think so.” Gertrude looked up at me as if in agreement. “You’re a Lily.”
And that was that.
We met during a dark time in my life. Nothing seemed to be going well. Trouble at work, trouble in my love life, trouble with friends. I couldn’t even tell who was a friend and who wasn’t, who I could trust and who I shouldn’t. I’d started watching more TV than normal, a lot more TV, especially horror movies. Since I lived alone, it was easier to be spooked by all that input of ghosts and evil, and I started imagining that I was seeing things, that my house was occupied by malevolent beings that were intent on destroying me. I wasn’t suicidal, but I thought about it. Much more than usual. The horror movies helped feed my imagination; suicide is an often-used theme in that genre.
And then I got the flyer in the mail.
“Snake River District Animal Shelter. Save a life. Adopt a friend.” There was a picture of a cute beagle puppy with the caption “Freddy” under it.
I’ve always had a problem with impulsiveness (which is one reason I’ve lost so many friends) so I was at the SRDAS bright and early the next morning.
Maybe this is the answer.
My salvation?
The lady in charge that morning was surprised to see me standing at the door as she was unlocking it at 8:30 am. Before she could get out “How may I help you?” I said, “I’m here for Freddy.”
She frowned and looked confused, then her face relaxed. “Oh, the flyer we sent out. I’m sorry, Freddy was adopted weeks ago.” Seeing the disappointment on my face, she quickly added, “But we have several dogs in holding right now. I’m sure there’s another ‘Freddy’ here for you.” She smiled.
Being the pessimist that I am, I wasn’t convinced. I could feel the dream slipping away. But what was I to do? I was already there.
“Come on, let me show you around, meet some of the pups.”
The first time I laid eyes on Gertrude, soon to be Lily, I could tell she didn’t like the cages, didn’t like the confinement. Gerty, as the lady called her, was five months old and had been found wandering the streets. She was a beautiful, sleek mix of something close to Labrador, and completely black. It was hard to imagine someone abandoning her. Perhaps she’d been lost.
And she had piercing green eyes.
“I’ve never seen a dog with green eyes.”
“It’s rare. Gerty’s my only green-eyed dog in ten years of working here. I read up on it. Mutation.”
Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the shelter with my new, green-eyed, mutant dog Lily.
It marked the start of a wonderful friendship.
• • • • •
“Mr. Garden? Ellis Garden?”
“Yes?” I could tell by the voice, even though it had been two weeks, that Kathleen was on the line.
“Kathleen of GDE. That’s an unusual name, by the way. Garden. Don’t think I’ve known or even heard of a Garden.”
“Kathleen, I’m assuming that you called with news, and not just to discuss my surname.”
“Right, then. No need to get salty with me.”
Silence.
“Kathleen?”
“Jack needs to see you for another meeting. He’s found something on Lily. Also, I didn’t appreciate finding out you lied about the Mandarin zombies.”
Silence.
“Nothing personal. I just did what I felt I needed to do.”
“Well, if you pull a stunt like that again…”
“You were saying Jack found something?”
“Yes, well, he needs to meet you at the same place as last time. Two days from now. At 1:11 a.m.”
“Okay.”
Weird thing about the time change.
Curious.
• • • • •
Jack didn’t show up on time.
I had to wait, shivering, because it was even colder than the last time I stood near this scary tree. Something brushed my forehead, and I shrieked.
Just a willow branch.
Crazy, creepy tree.
Leave me be.
At 1:23, a face, then a body, appeared from the shadows.
“Mr. Garden.”
“You look different. Are you Jack?”
“Yes. Ghost dogs change appearance from day to day. Has to do with our shifting plasma composition. I assure you that I am Jack, and this is our second meeting.”
“You have information?”
“First, I have questions.”
I waited.
“Was there anything unusual about Lily’s death?”
“Why?”
“I ask the questions. And I can’t help you if you don’t answer them. Honestly.”
“Wait a second.” I needed a moment to consider what I would say, and how I would say it.
• • • • •
From the start, Lily was a wild dog.
More than once during our walks, she slipped her head out of the collar and ran away from me. I was a fast runner, but she was faster. She would race up the street a bit, then stop and look back at me, smiling, teasing me. As soon as I got close, she’d take off again. At some point, out of panic that I would lose her, I’d yell angrily, “Lily!” and she would get serious and wait.
Also, from the start, she was sensitive to noise. I think she’d picked it up from the shelter. I’d noticed how vocal the other inmates had been. Yap, yap, yap! On walks at night when we’d hear multiple dogs barking or howling in the distance, Lily would get tense and sidle up close to me, looking me in the face worriedly.
Needless to say, she hated thunderstorms.
• • • • •
“So, what happened?” Jack watched me closely.
• • • • •
The last day I saw her alive, a bad storm hit while I was still at work. As I drove home, thunderclaps crashed so loudly and violently they hurt my ears and made me jump. I knew Lily was waiting, hiding in the bathroom, terrified.
Don’t worry, girl. I’ll be home soon.
I raced along faster than normal, unable to think of anything else. As I got close to the house, I saw that something was different.
Something was wrong.
An extremely large portion of the old maple tree in the yard had split away from the trunk and was lying across the lawn. It extended all the way to the front wall of the house. I pulled into the driveway and got out quickly.
The damage must have been caused by the combination of a lightning strike to the tree – the side of the trunk where the split occurred was scorched and sooty – and high winds that came with the storm. As I stood there looking in dismay, a blast of rain hit me in the face. I turned away from it, toward the house, and was startled by what I saw.
The end of the tree had smashed in my front picture window.
I rushed over to it and saw blood stains on the sill. Rain had soaked the curtains, which flapped noisily in and out with the wind. After I unlocked the door and got inside, I immediately started calling for Lily and got no response, which was not a surprise since she was probably too terrified to leave the bathroom.
She wasn’t there.
A frantic search of the house.
She wasn’t there.
Another frantic search.
She was gone.
The blood on the window sill must have been hers. In terror, she had escaped.
And run away.
• • • • •
“This was six months ago?”
“Or so. Yes.”
“How do you know that Lily died?”
“Intuition. Something I felt in my bones.”
“Dogs are sometimes lost for years before they’re found. How much did you search?”
“Tons. Twice a day I walked and biked and drove the streets. Knocked on people’s doors, interrupted folks doing their outside chores, checked animal shelters, animal control, called lost-pet hotlines. No results.”
“And you believe she died?”
“Yes. I called Ghost Dog Endeavors on that presumption. Maybe I’m being pessimistic? I’m prone to that. Perhaps she’s still alive?”
“She’s not. You were right. Lily passed.”
I was quiet. Jack’s sudden confirmation unsettled me.
“Call the office tomorrow. Kathleen will—”
“I know.”
“Turn—”
“I know.”
After turning back around toward the tree, alone again, I stood still in the semidarkness, no longer spooked by the eerie venue of our meetings, closed my eyes, and listened…
To the wind in the willow.
To the wind in my ears.
To my own breath, moving in and out.
And faintly, I heard soft sounds…
Canine feet on grass.
Throaty, animal rumbles.
I opened my eyes, looked around into the shadows, and seeing nothing, went home.
• • • • •
“1:23 a.m. Same place. This Friday.”
“Jack?”
“No. Lily.”
My heart rate increased, but I was only mildly surprised.
“Thanks, Kathleen.”
“No problem, Mr. Garden. Good luck with your meeting.”
Did I detect a little less harshness, a little more compassion in her voice?
The heart rides its own roller coaster.
• • • • •
I was nervous, more nervous than at the first meeting with Jack.
Stands to reason.
Extrapolating, I predicted 1:46, even though I was on time.
At 1:46, Lily crept out of the willow’s shadow. My spine muscles shook.
Those green eyes.
“Ellis?”
“Lily?”
“Yes, for now. I haven’t been completely transformed.”
Lily still looked like the Lily I’d known, but there was a decided coldness that was new.
Not just coldness.
Confidence.
Enlightenment.
“Ellis, Jack reviewed your case with me. I think I have a handle on what you’re dealing with. I’m hoping we can get this resolved today. Where should we start?”
“Well… what happened to you?”
“Pretty basic stuff. The storm scared the sense out of me. Not uncommon for pets, especially dogs. When the window crashed in, the noise brought me out of the bathroom. I didn’t know what I was looking at. You weren’t around.”
“Sorry.” I looked down.
“Not your fault. Just the way it happened. Anyway, wind was shrieking in through the broken window, and it freaked me out. Instead of going back to the bathroom to hole up until you got home, I panicked and jumped through the opening, cutting myself in the process. The pain and blood made me even crazier, so I just ran, with no attention to where I was going. I blindly raced through the streets, terrorized. The storm sirens didn’t help. At some point, I ended up in a wooded area that was much quieter, and quiet was good, so I stopped, hunkered down in some brush, and slept. I was exhausted.”
“I woke up the next morning to sunlight and no storm. Leaving the woods and looking around, I didn’t recognize anything and realized that I was lost. I couldn’t follow a scent trail because the rain had washed everything away. I did the only thing I knew to do: I started roaming. In what would turn out to be a short journey, I discovered that man is not always dog’s best friend. I didn’t know this before because you’d provided such a sheltered, protected life for me.”
Was I wrong to do that?
Lily seemed to read my thought. “You did fine. Let it go.” She continued, “The first humans I encountered were a group of boys walking home from school. They faked friendliness, offered me leftovers from their lunches. Starving, I was duped. When I got close enough, they tried to grab me. I was able to break free, but one of them got a parting kick in, and one of my ribs was broken. I managed to escape, vocalizing my pain as I ran away. The boys laughed at my misery. A wolfish, hidden part of me wanted to return and kill all of them. But I knew there were too many; in my injured state, I would have been the one killed.”
“Some time after I was clear of the boys, I stopped to rest in someone’s front lawn. My injury made it hard to breathe and run; it felt so good to sit in the grass. No one was around, and I got a few minutes of rest. I believe I would have fallen asleep if not for the noise of the engine. Pulling my head up, I saw a white truck coming down the street. As it got near to me, it slowed and pulled over. The truck had compartments at its rear. Some of the compartments had small, wire mesh windows. I could smell the dogs and fear and loathing coming from these cages. A tall woman wearing a uniform exited the cab carrying a device that seemed to be intended for catching me, so I dragged myself up and headed for the back of the property to find a place I could hide. The pain of new movement, after having rested, was intense. I almost gave up. I thought, How bad could one of those cages be? I answered myself, Bad enough.”
“Luckily, the backyard was not fenced in, and I was able to weave my way through to another street. I followed this new road for a long time, always wary for the return of the white truck, until it ended at what appeared to be a large estate with an expansive lawn, lots of scattered trees, and an immense, two-story house. I trudged across the property, looking for a place that I could rest because my side was screaming. As I came around the edge of the house, I discovered a barn with a barnyard and a connected corral. A lone horse drank from a trough. What really caught my attention were the chickens. There were several of them scratching around the barnyard. And I was hungry. Ravenous. My primordial dog nature told me to kill and eat. I walked directly to one of the hens, snapped its neck with my jaws, and ripped into its bloody flesh. As I ate, I felt a surge of… satisfaction unlike anything I’d ever known. My pleasure was to be short-lived, though. I was eating my last meal. Hearing a noise from the other side of the corral, I looked up into the sights of a rifle, held confidently by a man who I presumed was the owner of this ranch-like property. As I snarled, chicken blood dripping from my bared teeth, I heard an explosion and immediately I was in a new world that was completely white. Blinding white. No chickens, no barnyard, no rifleman. Just whiteness. Voices spoke to me at first, and then I started to see the other dogs. With time, my perception of this new place evolved and I eventually understood the concept of the ghost dog. Not long after enlightenment, I was inducted. And here I am, currently in the process of transformation. That’s my story. No doubt, you’re wondering how I’m doing, what my state of comfort is… in your human way of thinking. Let me set your mind at ease. I am doing fine. I endured some terror and suffered near the end, but that’s pretty much expected for any higher animal, dogs and humans alike. I have a new sense of purpose, and I appreciate that.” Lily paused. “How are you doing, Ellis?”
I remained quiet, not sure what to say, at first.
“I’ve missed you, Lily. During the first month, it was terrible. I was exhausted from walking the streets every evening. Late in the night I would wake up, thinking that I heard you shuffling in the halls. I’d wander the house half-asleep, saying your name, sometimes hallucinating you in the shadows. Your images always disappeared. As the months passed, I searched less, and started to consider that you might have died.”
“You look like you lost weight.”
“Guilt and anxiety can do that to you. It was hard for me to enjoy food knowing you might be wandering as a stray, starving.” I had more I could say, but waited.
“What else?”
“I’ve… been afraid. To be alone. You were always such a good watch dog. I never felt like I had to lock the doors. For fourteen years I slept soundly, protected. Now I hear things at night. I imagine closet doors opening, evil seeping out. Bad things crawling in through windows. Voices whispering to me from under the bed. I keep lights on in every room, but that only helps a little.”
“Well.”
“Fourteen years.”
“I know.”
We stood, looking at each other.
“Can I touch your head?”
“Since I haven’t completely transformed, I still have an earthly physicality, so, yes.”
I reached out and stroked the crown of Lily’s head, felt the familiarity of her sleek black hair, then went to my knees in front of her and looked closely into her face as I petted her cheeks. I sat on the ground and dropped my hands into my lap.
And waited.
My time was coming to an end.
“Has this helped, Ellis? Has it given you closure?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You understand that we won’t see each other again, right?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be sad, Ellis. I’m doing well. No longer in pain. I’ll start assignments soon in which I help people recover from sadness and injury and loss, and I am happy for that. That is my new chapter. You have a new chapter, also.”
“I know.”
“Ellis?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Okay.”
“Anything else?”
I thought for a moment. “No. This is what I needed.”
“I’m leaving now. You take care, Ellis.”
“Do I need to turn around?”
“No, that comes later when I am fully ghost-dog.”
I watched as Lily turned and slowly trotted into the darkness, eventually disappearing from my sight.
Standing there for a while before I headed home, I was acutely aware of the life around me, the willow tree, the grass beneath my feet.
There was no wind, no sound.
A cordial emptiness.
A peaceful silence.
kevinpolman 