Chapter 47
Our friends had already headed into town, and since our work with the ants was done, we decided to follow suit. Gran said she had some work to do in the backyard and would join us later, and so it was just the two of us.
“Where is Pippy?” asked Dooley.
“She joined Harriet and Brutus for a visit to the General Store,” I said. “They wanted to show her around. Visit all the different places of interest.”
“The only place of interest is the General Store,” said Dooley. “And the hair salon, maybe. Oh, and the offices of the Hampton Cove Gazette, of course.”
“And the police station, the hotel, and many other places,” I said. Hampton Cove may not be a big town, but it still has plenty of stuff going on in all kinds of places. For a curious, albeit timid, dog like Pippy, a tour of the town would be a fascinating experience.
As we passed by the Trappers’ home, we checked to see if Rufus was on the premises, and much to our pleasant surprise, he was.
As we passed the house, the sheepdog came tripping out of the backyard to greet us.
“Something terrible has happened, you guys,” he said, and I had to say he looked sad.
“What is it?” asked Dooley. “If it’s an ant queen who is sick, you need to find killer mites who will attack the parasitic ones. Works like a charm. That or garlic. And lemon juice.”
Rufus gave my friend a strange look, but decided not to engage. “It’s Ted,” he said. “He’s been sleeping a lot lately.”
“Well, that isn’t so strange, is it?” I said. “All humans sleep a lot. At least eight hours. Sometimes nine or more.”
“I know, but he does it during the day, when he’s supposed to be at work.”
“Has he lost his job again?” asked Dooley. “That has happened before, hasn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe he’s simply taking a break. Counting other people’s money all the time must get pretty tedious after a while.”
“Or maybe he has retired?” Dooley suggested. “Humans don’t work after a certain age, do they? They retire and the government pays them to do nothing.”
“I doubt it,” said Rufus as he directed a quick glance at the house. “If he had retired, he would have said something, wouldn’t he? And also, isn’t Ted too young to retire?”
“What age do humans retire?” I asked. “Is it forty or fifty?”
“More like sixty or seventy,” said Rufus. “Or maybe eighty or ninety. These human years are so hard to pin down, aren’t they?”
“Ted is the same age as Tex, isn’t he?” I said. “And Tex hasn’t retired yet, so probably Ted is the same. He still needs to work if he wants to make money to feed his family.”
We all glanced at the upstairs bedroom window, and I saw that the curtains were closed.
“I’m gonna be honest with you guys,” said Rufus. “I don’t like it. And Marcie doesn’t like it either. She has even told Ted a couple of times that he needs to get his act together. And when Marcie says that, it’s usually a bad sign.”
“Maybe it’s just a phase,” I suggested. “You know, like some kind of midlife crisis kind of thing? And soon enough he will be out of bed again and going back to work?”
“I hope so,” said Rufus. “It’s not a lot of fun. He doesn’t even seem to like taking me for my walks at night. Marcie has to take over while Ted stays in bed.”
“Depression,” said Dooley with conviction.
“That sounds exactly like what a person who is depressed would do.” He gave Rufus a look of intense commiseration.
“You need to be extra nice to Ted, Rufus. If he’s depressed, he needs all the love and care that he can get, and you are a big part of the healing process. ”
“I am?” said Rufus, surprised. “I can help Ted?”
“Oh, absolutely! There have been scientific studies that show that a dog or cat significantly raises the level of well-being and happiness of a person. Simply the fact that you’re there already makes them feel better.
And when you can convince Ted to take you for your walks again, he will gradually get back on his feet. ”
“Bring him your leash,” I advised. “Simply grab it from the hook and drag it upstairs and put it on the bed where he can see it.”
“And then you need to lie down on his chest and look at him with those deep, soulful eyes of yours,” said Dooley.
“And if you can whimper a little, or even whine, that would be even better.”
“Gee, thanks, you guys,” said Rufus. “That is some solid advice, and I will try it out immediately. In fact, I will try it out right now.”
And as he started back for the house, looking much more upbeat than before, Dooley and I felt uplifted by the fact that in the space of a single morning, we had helped out an ant queen, and now also our neighboring dog.
“It feels good to help people, Max,” said Dooley.
“Yeah, it sure does,” I agreed.
We moved right along, en route to the heart of town, and hoped to meet more people or dogs—or even ants—that we could be of service to.
Dooley was right; helping people felt good.
Inside the house, Rufus vowed to put the ideas that Max and Dooley had suggested to work. So he took the leash from the hook by the door, where it always hung, and yanked it to the floor. Then he took it into his mouth and dragged it up the stairs to the master bedroom.
As expected, he found Ted in bed, fast asleep.
So he jumped up onto the bed and sat on the man’s chest, then placed the leash on Ted’s face so he wouldn’t miss it.
Ted groaned. “Will you get off me, you doofus?” he asked. “I can’t breathe!”
Rufus could understand where he was coming from. When a sheepdog, who is just about one of the biggest dogs in the world, sits on your chest, breathing becomes a little challenging.
So he decided to compromise and jumped back down from the bed to sit on the little mat next to it. Ted’s slippers were on the mat, and he took a quick sniff, out of sheer habit, then proceeded to stare at his human intently.
Ted stared back, looking a little bleary-eyed, but otherwise not unfriendly or unkindly.
At least he was awake.
“I can’t take you for your walk now, buddy,” said his human. “I need to sleep, since I was up all night.”
“But you have to take me for a walk, Ted,” he said. “It will get rid of your depression.”
And since Ted didn’t seem inclined to do what he asked, he put the next idea that Max and Dooley had suggested into motion: the whining and the whimpering.
He had a lot of experience. In fact it wasn’t too much to say he was a champion whiner and whimperer.
He had learned from the best, namely his dad.
The old dog whined so much that at some point Rufus’s mom got sick and tired and kicked him out.
But of course, Dad whined his way back in, which showed what a master of the whine he really was.
“Oh, God,” said Ted after a while. He had even pressed his hands to his ears in a bid not to have to listen to Rufus anymore. But as anyone can tell you, a dog’s whine, as well as a dog’s whimper, when performed to perfection, is very hard to ignore.
Which is when Rufus switched to barking. Throwing in the occasional bark never fails.
And all the while, he kept on staring at Ted, making sure that the man couldn’t forget that he had a job to do, and the sooner he did it, the better.
Finally, Ted must have had enough, for he threw back the sheets, swung his feet to the floor, shoved them into his slippers, and got up.
He was dressed in his pajamas, and even though Rufus didn’t think it was a good idea to take a dog out dressed in pajamas, people had done stranger things.
The most important part was that Ted got out of the house and shook off this strange disease called depression.
Five minutes later, Rufus was doing his business against a lamppost, happy as can be, with Ted looking grumpy, unshaven, and dressed in slippers and Marcie’s housecoat.
In other words: mission accomplished!