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Just a Gigolo
- University of Wisconsin Press
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91 Just a Gig olo A damp and gusty wind slammed the door be hind George as he came in doors. “Well, Hans, it looks like the fall has come and gone. It’s start ing to rain, and the sky is get ting pretty black to the south west. Mark my words, by to night it’s going to turn into the first snow of the win ter.” “I sup pose we’d bet ter head for home be fore it gets any worse,” Hans said. He and his ter rier, Ollie, had dropped by the lodge at the end of their morn ing walk. A po lite bark inter rupted them. Rus sell had been swim ming in the lake, and now he was sit ting on the porch and ask ing to come in. George opened the door about an inch. “Rus sell, shake!” he com manded, and Rus sell shook him self from head to tail, rat tling the tags on his col lar and throw ing water up, down, and side ways. Ollie met Rus sell at the door and the two dogs began to wres tle gently in front of the fire place. Hans was im pressed. “Boy, I sure wish Ollie could learn to shake him self like that—be fore he comes in, rather than after. That frizzy coat of his soaks up a lot of rain, and if we don’t dry him off he leaves a trail of water all over the house.” “Shak ing off the water is part of Russell’s train ing for duck hunt ing,”ex plained George.“A big wet dog isn’t an ideal com pan ion in a small duck blind.” “Rus sell O’Malley, PhD,” Hans said. “Yeah, he’s a smart one. He can trace his an ces tors far ther back than I can. A lot of his rel a tives are field cham pions, and his Just a Gigolo 92 grandpa was a bona fide hero—he ran into a burn ing build ing once.” “To res cue a child?” Hans asked. “No, there weren’t any chil dren, so he came back out with the fire in su rance pol icy wrapped in a wet towel.” Helen gave George a dis gusted look. “For God’s sake, George, you know that never hap pened,” she said. “Maybe not,” said George, with a wink at Hans, “but it makes a hel luva story, and that’s the im por tant thing.” “Is there any thing Rus sell doesn’t know?” Hans asked. “He’s just start ing to learn scent track ing,” re plied George. “For in stance, if Helen is out for a walk and I can’t see her, I’ll give Rus sell one of her shoes to sniff and tell him to ‘find Helen,’ and most of the time he’ll fol low her scent trail until he lo cates her.” “Thanks a lot, George,” Helen said. “Now Hans knows I have smelly feet.” “No more than any one else,” said George. “To a dog, any human foot must smell like a cir cus in Au gust.” “You’re get ting in deeper, George,” Helen warned. “Bet ter quit while you can.” “I’ll get out of here so you two can fight in peace,” Hans said. “You’re re leas ing built-up ten sions, and that’s a kind of ca thar tic self-treatment.” “If you walk home in the rain you’ll need treat ment for pneu mo nia,” said George. “Hop in the truck and I’ll give you a lift.” “OK, George, but first let me show you the trick I taught Ollie,” Hans said. He took a thin brown dog treat from his shirt pocket. “Ollie, sit!” he com manded. “Ollie, trust!” Hans laid the strip on Ollie’s muz zle. “Trust . . . trust . . . trust . . .” Hans re peated. Ollie tried des per ately to focus his eyes on the treat. “OK!” said Hans, and Ollie flipped the strip into the air and caught it. George and Helen ap plauded. “What kind of a treat is that?” asked George. “Some thing new?” “Yeah, it’s called Dog nip,” Hans said. “They were giv ing sam ples away at the pet store in Green Bay, and Ollie will do any thing for them. They’re like ca nine co caine.” [18.223.172.252] Project MUSE (2024-04-26 17:30...