there, out of the kindness of my heart of course.”
“And have you ever asked the dog to sit when you fed it?”
“No sir, I’ve just left the food on the ground,” Paris said catching another trick.
The police looked at each other for a moment and then smiled.
“So,” one began, “since you have filed several animal deaths happening on your property that this dog has caused, you would not mind if we ran a check with our precinct to make sure all the paperwork was filed correctly?”
Now, Paris began to worry; he had given up on filing animal deaths a long time ago. And even when he did, they were filed way before Martian was even living with him. But, he could not show any sign that it would bother him, or else the cops would finally have him. Then he thought about Martian, maybe I could get him to attack them, and make them change their minds about doing the search. But how to do it without letting them know that Martian was “trained”?
“If only he could sense my thoughts,” thought Paris.
“If you could remove your glasses, so we can take your picture and run it through our system that would be much appreciated sir,” the policeman said while taking out his electronic device.
While holding the device up high to take the picture, Martian started barking loudly. Both policemen jumped back caught off guard by the animal that was initially polite but now snarling. Paris knew that Martian would never hurt him but jumped back pretending that he was on the side of the cops.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” said one of the policemen.
“I don’t know,” lied Paris, “I’m just as shocked as you!”
“It might be that new thing that’s been going around,” said the other officer, “Causing all those recent animal attacks.”
Both policemen started to move slowly toward the door while Martian showed his teeth dripping saliva.
“Whatever got this dog riled up, I’m not staying to find out. You might want to think about finding a way to lure this dog out of your home sir,” the officer said to Paris as they kept moving toward the exit.
“Your damn right I’m going to!” said Paris, “That’s the last time I feed any animal that comes into my home!”
The policemen jumped into their car and went off to continue patrolling the area. The unplanned reaction from Martian had worked; he had sensed that Paris was in trouble and did his part to protect his friend. Paris fell onto the floor flat on his back and inhaled deeply. Martian had stopped snarling and was panting with his very large tongue hung over the side of his mouth. A bee flew into the room and landed on Martian’s nose. The dog tried to bat the insect with its tongue but missed, and the bee flew out the nearest window.
“You make a great jackal, but a shitty frog old friend,” laughed Paris as he saw the whole thing while lying on the ground. Martian leaped into the air and landed on top of Paris. He proceeded to wipe his tongue all over Frank’s face.
“Okay, okay! I take it back! You’re a great frog! A great frog!” Paris screamed while still laughing. The two wrestled for a while before Paris tired himself out.
When he got up to fix dinner for both of them, Paris thought about what the police had said earlier about the recent animal attacks. What was it that was causing these animals to be more aggressive than they were before? A virus? New form of rabies? Humans may never know the answer to this because of the Pacheco Laws. The world could not discover if it was a virus or rabies, but, even worse, not be able to find a cure without testing on animals. Times were bad for modern medicine, but all Paris could think about was how it may affect his best friend. Could Martian get sick? Could he one day attack him? No, of course not; Martian was his friend, and friends don’t hurt each other. And besides, “Martians” don’t catch Earth diseases.
Chapter 5
Her excitement was higher than the saucer she now bathed in. His excitement was lower than the dirty slums of the streets he walked through. But, they were both more nervous than the filthy Pauper exploring the realms of the wealthy Prince’s green, diamond eyed castle. The day had come, Saturday to be exact, and it was going to be the first time that both Paris and Roxy would meet each other outside of CFI.
Roxy did not know what to do with her new apartment. Part of her wanted to clean the place entirely showing Frank that she was not a slob, and the other half wanted to leave everything the way it was all boxed up so he would stay longer. In the end, she decided to do a mixture of both where it was not too messy but still needed some work. She also thought that it would give them enough time for her to suggest grabbing dinner together; her treat of course for coming over to help with the move.
Frank was torn as well; but, not by the clutter of his house, but how to dress for the day. Does he put on a nice shirt and tie like he does every day when going to work? Does he wear a t-shirt since he is mainly moving boxes and could get dirty?
“Could you help me out Martian?” Paris said to the hairy creature below him on the ground.
The dog got to its feet and looked up at his friend.
“What do you think I should wear when I go see Roxy tonight?” he said showing Martian two shirts. Martian gave a snore signaling Paris to put the shirts back. Paris then pulled out two new shirts, one work dress and the other a t-shirt.
Again the dog snored.
Pairs became a little annoyed by this but decided to try something different. He pulled out two polo shirts he had not worn in a long time and showed them to Martian.
The dog barked and waged his tail, and Paris knew what his friend was telling him: go with something in the middle.
In the end, Paris put on a black and blue stripped polo shirt and dark blue jeans.
“Thanks buddy,” Paris said as he came down the ladder.
Looking at his watch, Paris saw that there was still some time before he needed to start walking toward Roxy’s place. So, with the time he had to spare, Paris decided to play a game with Martian. Their games were never the simple dog games like “fetch the ball” and “sit, stay, come, play dead;” Paris thought those sort of games would be degrading to his friend. So, they would play games that would make them feel like equals. As opposed to games that could be viewed as “teaching a dog a new trick.” One of their favorite games was the shell game. Paris would take three opaque cups, place them on the table, and put a super ball underneath one of them. Then, he would rearrange the cups several times to try and fool Martian as to the super ball’s location. Martian was surprisingly good at this game, and there were only a few times where Paris was able to fool him.
“Either I’m getting better at this, or you‘re losing your touch old friend,” said Paris smiling after winning a game.
Playing games was just one of the many things these two friends would do together. They would stay up all night having conversations, one sided of course with the usual bark to acknowledge that Martian was listening. They would sit down on the porch and eat watermelon on a hot day. They would even play music together with Martian improvising a melody with howls and whines while Paris kept a steady beat playing the spoons. Every writer who searched for the perfect “boy and his dog” story could look at Paris and Martian’s companionship and see inspiration. And yet, Paris would disagree, about the “dog” part. Martian was like no other dog that he had encountered in the past; in fact, Martian was perhaps the only dog in history to truly comprehend what was on television. For, there were times when Martian would place his paw on the wireless TV on the wall and whine for Paris to turn on the device. Once the request was obliged, Martian would decide if the show was worth watching. If he did not like what he was seeing, he would give a very loud snore, and Paris would change the channel. There would be a back and forth of snoring and channel changing until Martian saw what he wanted to watch, barked, and waged his tail. Martian would sit and watch the show until it was over and snore again for