There Are No Words

Chapter 9

BEFORE

Walker

"Come ON...come-on!," I heard her say, as if she was trying to push something heavy and stubborn. Her voice was small but determined, like a character out of a Shakespeare play. She commanded an audience. As I walked towards the old cabin, her matching tiny frame came into view.

Here she was, trying to drag some kind of mud-covered giant (a Great Dane, perhaps?) under the hose on the side of her house. He was filthy. As I got closer, I realized that not only was the goliath loaded with dripping, gray mud, but he smelled. Bad. Too bad to be as close to him as the girl was, though he didn't seem to bother her. My eyes watered the nearer I got to them.

I figured out that the mangy beast must've been sprayed by a skunk. Yet here this girl was trying her best, despite the stench, to help the poor creature. Did I mention he wanted no part of what she was trying to do? I have no idea how she stayed on her feet. Not only was the big guy tugging her all over the place, but the once-grassy area underneath her has long-since been reduced to a muddy mess because of the constant running hose.

On their porch, I noticed several cans of tomato sauce. They were already open and waiting.

Like a man sentenced to march to his death, the dog somehow knew this gal had every intention of bathing him in those econo-sized cans. He was doing his best to avoid the hose AND the cans. Every time the girl looked like she could just about reach for one, the dog hoisted himself up and away.

Taking pity on her, I ran up to help. I tried to grab a hold of the dog's worn out collar, but it was like wrestling an elephant. How the heck was she keeping him from running away?

"Ouch!" I shouted, as the beast tread all over my toes. I was only wearing (now-wet) flip flops and the dog's claws were scratching right through the top layer of skin on my feet. I was bleeding before the girl and I were finally able to get the dog to sit still. With much effort, I held onto him while she scrubbed him with Dawn dish soap (it had been hidden in a mud puddle) and then finally the tomato sauce. Just as we were finishing up, though, the dog got loose and bolted.

He raced himself around our open yards and stopped every few feet to rub himself back into the dirt and brush of the forest leaves and branches. Since he hadn't been fully clean of soap and tomatoes, he now looked worse than ever.

I was still leaning over, trying to catch my breath from the whole ordeal, when I looked over and saw, to my surprise, that the girl standing next to me was not in tears (like I thought she might be), but looked about ready to blow her stack. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of her. It had been like the battle of Goliath vs. David when I first walked up and yet, here she was, ready to go round two. I raised my eyebrow at the thought of her getting ready to go to war. Before I could introduce myself, she let out a firm, and very LOUD bellow.

"Scooby, Come. NOW!" She stomped her feet and pointed to herself with her finger.

To my complete and utter surprise, Scooby stopped and sheepishly returned to us.

"IN!" she commanded towards the house.

I hadn't noticed before, but the door was already ajar and there seemed to be a carpet of old towels leading into the house. "Come on," the girl said to me. "I need your help." She quickly chased after Scooby, who had already run inside, ears back and tail tucked between his legs. I couldn't believe she'd called this huge dog inside her house in his condition. My parents would've have lost it if I brought a stinky, wet, mess-covered dog inside like she did. Just as she had chased after Scooby, I found myself wanting to chase after her (if only to see what would happen next).