The new family moved in while we were away for the weekend. The “For Sale” sign had come down months earlier, and then the contractors had arrived. First, they threw perfectly good appliances out on the curb: the washer and dryer, stove, refrigerator, even the toilets. Then they gutted everything. Once we asked the workmen about the new owners, but they just shrugged and rolled their eyes. “Talk to the dogs,” the boss said, and jerked his head at the pair of Rottweilers that followed him everywhere.
“Rude man,” my wife retorted. “I hope the owners are nicer than you.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” The boss smirked. What a wise guy.
When we got back from the Hamptons Sunday night we noticed lights on next door. My wife immediately wanted to go over and have a look at the new neighbors, but it was late and I was tired. Monday morning we didn’t see any activity, so we just went to work. When I got home that evening my wife was frosting a cake. “I thought I’d take them over a little something later,” she said. “You know, sort of a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ thing.”
“That stuff went out in the 50’s.”
“OK, so I just want to see the inside of the house. It certainly must be fabulous, all the work they did on it.”
“Maybe I’ll come along. I’d like to get a look at it too.”
So she put the cake in a Tupperware carrier and handed it to me. The neighbors’ front door was wide open and two dogs were panting on the front porch. Rottweilers. They looked like the same pair we’d seen during construction, and they were eyeing me suspiciously. “Nice doggies,” I said. I’m a little wary of strange dogs. My wife isn’t.
Oh, my goo’ness, what a big, handsome boy you are!” she gushed. He licked her ear. “And you, what a pretty little girl!” When she tickled the female under the chin, the dog promptly grunted and rolled over. “Oh, look, she wants her belly rubbed. Isn’t that cute?” This went on for a few minutes, but no one came out of the house. “Where’s your mommy and daddy, big fella? We brought them a cake!”
“I am the daddy,” the male replied, “and this is the mommy.” He nosed his mate affectionately before trotting over to pee on the hedge. “This is our house.” Then he peed on the fence on the other side of the yard, just to make sure we got the message.
“But…you’re dogs!” I said.
He looked at me in mock horror. “No!”
What do you say to a dog after he has, in short, just bashed your whole conception of the natural order of things? I gave it my best shot. “You speak such good English!”
“Of course we do. We were born here. What kind of cake is it? Smells good!”
My wife was clearly at a loss for words, but she quickly regained composure and made a grand effort to act as if she saw that kind of thing every day. “Chocolate. I hope you like it.” The dogs cocked their heads and looked up at her, their tongues lolling. Were they smiling? Hard to tell. When they didn’t respond, she prattled on. “I thought it would be a nice way to say welcome to the neighborhood, you know. That’s what most folks do when new people move in. I didn’t realize that you weren’t…uh, I didn’t know you were, uh, you know.”
“You didn’t know we were what?”
“Well, ah, certainly you have to admit we have fundamental…differences.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for instance, given your, uh, cultural heritage, perhaps you’d prefer a cold-cut platter.”
“Nonsense, we love cake,” the female reassured her while scrambling to her feet from her belly-up position. “Don’t we, dear?”
Her mate rolled his eyes. “Food is food. Put it down.”
“Please,” she whispered.
“OK, PLEASE. Happy now? I’m being nice.”
After that awkward exchange, my wife took the cover off the cake and I set it on the ground. They made quick work of it. “Is there any more?” the male asked.
“No, I’m afraid I only made one. But why don’t you join us for dinner tomorrow night? We’ll throw a few steaks on the grill.” I signaled wildly with a finger across the throat, but she ignored me.
“The pups too?”
“Sure, our kids love dogs. Uh, I mean company.” She blushed. “So! Where are your children? And how many do you have?”
“Seven.” The female smiled proudly. “They’re all playing upstairs.”
“My, what a big family! We have two.”
“I’m so sorry.” She whimpered a little before licking my wife’s face. “Did the others die?”
“WHAT?!”
The male shot his mate a look of reproach. “They only have one at a time, usually. And it takes nine months. And from what I’ve seen, it takes about twenty years before they can feed themselves. That’s people years, mind you.”
“Ohhh. I’ve read stories, but I thought they were making it up.” The female shuddered, then shook herself from nose to tail and composed herself.
You read?” My wife was incredulous.
“Of course. As a matter of fact, I adore Jack London; he’s my favorite. Among the humans, anyway.”
“Among the humans? Do you mean…never mind. So! We’ll see you folks tomorrow!”
“Can I bring anything?” the female asked.
“You cook?”
“No, I hunt.”
Now it was my wife’s turn to shudder. “Just be our guests. She brightened and began rambling the way she does when she feels like she’s out of her league. “You know, we could serve your steaks raw! I mean, tartare. Or on second thought, maybe I should run over to the store before you come and pick up some nice T-bones to chew on!”
“Why, because we’re dogs?” the male growled.
“No, no, because I just thought that’s what you’re used to.”
“Used to what? Being treated like dogs?”
“No, no! I didn’t mean that! Since we’re getting together for the first time, I just want you to feel comfortable!”
“If you really want to make us feel comfortable, just set places for us at the table with everyone else.”
“With knives and forks and everything?”
He snorted in disdain and then held up a paw. “Duh.”
“Oh. Ah, yes, of course.”
“And just to clarify, we’re not real big on salad. But whatever else you have is fine. We’re not fussy.”
“Then tomorrow it is!” My wife can be so perky with new acquaintances. “Around six o’clock. Uh, can you tell time, or should I come get you?”
The male gazed skyward at the setting sun. “As a matter of fact, I can tell time. It’s seven fifteen. And for future reference, don’t trouble yourself to walk over. We have a phone.”
“A phone?!”
“Yeah, a phone. We connected it to the Google Mini. Makes it so easy! The keypads used to be a little tricky. We put all the relatives on the contact list. You’ll meet them! My cousins from Queens are moving in until they can get a place of their own, and of course all the family from the tri-state area will come down for the weekend. Sort of a housewarming, I guess you’d call it.”
“Why don’t you join us?” his mate asked while she nuzzled my wife. “It’ll be a fine hunting party.”
“By the way, do you have cats?” That was the male.
“Two. But they stay inside all the time.”
“Pity.” He licked his lips. The pups started raising a racket upstairs, so both parents dashed inside the house. “See you tomorrow!” he called over his shoulder.
When we got back to our house, we stared at each other across the kitchen table. “That was weird,” my wife said.
A few hours later, after we had microwaved some leftovers and put the kids to bed, we were back at the table staring at each other again.
“I told the kids not to say anything tomorrow about their being dogs,” my wife told me. “They should be OK. Kids don’t seem to notice that kind of thing so much. And I thought maybe I’d pick up some doggy snacks for the puppies in case they can’t chew steak yet. I forgot to ask how old they are.”
“I dunno, it may insult them. They’re pretty sensitive.”
“Well, I’ll just keep the box in the cupboard and play it by ear. I like the, uh, woman, but her husband’s a little gruff. You know, I just realized that all during our conversation I didn’t ask their names.”
“Do they even have names?” I snapped. “They’re dogs, for crying out loud. You think they give each other names like we do? And since we’re on the topic, notice they didn’t ask our names, either. They probably just call us ‘the humans,’ or ‘the salad eaters.’ Or worse. I don’t like them.”
When a big-bellied moon rose over the roof next door, the whole family commenced to howl. “Maybe it’s a tradition,” my wife said. “You know, like when we set off fireworks on the Fourth of July. Deep down, they’re nice… people. Just like us.”
Just then a cat yowled down the street, followed by a resounding hell’s chorus from next door. “Reality check, Mrs. ‘Why-Can’t-We-All-Get-Along,’” I said. “They’re not like us.” I clicked on the remote and we watched the war on Fox 5 for a while, staring at footage of the carnage in the quiet of the evening long long after the howling next door faded away.
While drinking our bedtime chamomile tea, we heard a soft scratching on the front door and just about leaped out of our skins. “It’s almost midnight! What could they want?” When I opened the door, I saw a dead rabbit on the porch and nine grinning Rottweilers, tongues lolling, sitting in a semicircle on the lawn. Their teeth gleamed in the moonlight: definitely past the puppy stage.
The head of the household greeted us. “Evening, neighbors! A perfect night for hunting!”
“It is indeed.” I can be very polite when surrounded by nine carnivores under a full moon. “Uh, is this your rabbit?”
“Well, I, ah, that is, Aroo here, that’s my mate, seems to think I was a little abrupt with you earlier this evening, and this is just my way of making it up. So are we OK, pal, you and me? Call me Hruff, by the way. I don’t think you’d be able to pronounce my real name.” He took my dumbfounded silence for gratitude. “Your mate made that swell cake, and we’re just responding in kind.” He nosed the dead rabbit closer to my feet, then stepped back. “It’s a nice, young tender one! Come on, rip into it!” The female whispered something in his ear. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Well, whatever, it’s yours, so throw it on the fire ‘til the blood dries up and eat it with knives and forks the way you folks do. Enjoy it!”
It was a fine gesture. “Thank you, Hruff.” I did my best to pronounce it like he did.
“Close enough for the first try,” he said grinning, and he stuck out his paw.
I shook it. “I’m John. And my wife here is Annie.
“He gonna give us a bite, Pop?” The litter was getting restless.
No, son, and I don’t want you begging. He’ll give you something nice tomorrow. Well, g’night, neighbors! The gardens are crawling with rabbits, and we’re still hungry. Say, you don’t mind, do you? I mean us hunting on your property and all.”
Take all the rabbits you want,” I told him. “You’d be doing us a favor. They’re killing our garden.”
“I figured as much. You people and your salad.” He wrinkled his nose. “But to each his own. You didn’t mark your territory, so I figured it was OK.”
Now it was my turn to make a face, although I covered it with a polite cough. “It’s not our custom to pee on the boundary lines. We have indoor plumbing.”
“They go in the house?! EWWWWW, gross!!” The litter registered self-righteous, pre-adolescent disgust and utter fascination.
“Hush, children.” Aroo licked the one closest to her. “Remember what I told you.” She trotted over to nuzzle my wife. “I’m so glad we’re neighbors, Annie. See you tomorrow!”
As if on some signal I couldn’t hear, the whole family perked up their ears and dashed into the garden. I picked up the dead rabbit and closed the door.
“Hey Google!” I said as I rummaged through the knife drawer in the kitchen. “How do you skin a rabbit?”