On my seventh fun monday, I am environmentally responsible

the fabulous robinella is hosting fun monday this week. her fabulous assignment? she asks us to search our archives and find our favorite old post and recycle it here.

so i'm going back to the Olde Days, when hardly any of you read me (except -ann and babaloo), back to early last spring when all i told were dog stories, which, frankly, is all i ever intended to tell here.

this probably isn't my "best" column, nor my favorite, but it's one i like and it got a grand total of one comment. maybe this time around it'll do better. i've edited it down a bit here, because i know there are a lot of fun mondays to read.


TOBY AND THE ROBBER

We only made it as far as Beloit, Wisconsin, the first day. toby and i were headed to columbus, ohio, for three months, to live in the james thurber house. my plans were to teach a class at the university, work one day a week at the columbus dispatch, and, oh yeah, write great literature in my spare time.

toby's plans were to hang around the house and chase as many tennis balls as possible.

we had gotten a late start out of st. paul, and it was already evening when we started trolling beloit, looking for a motel.

i don't know what kind of uncivilized state wisconsin is, but motel after motel said, "sorry. no dogs."

after dark i pulled into a bleak-looking place just off the highway. the desk clerk told me that dogs weren't allowed, but then he took pity on me. maybe i looked like i was going to cry. or maybe toby smiled his irresistible toby smile--the one where his ears perked up and he tilted his head.

"we're remodeling the place," the clerk said. "i can rent you a room on the back side, in one of the rooms we haven't gotten to yet."

the front of the motel had looked reputable, if inexpensive. the back looked nightmarish. the parking lot was rimmed by a wooded wetlands. instead of brightly painted doors and cute curtains, these units had ancient siding and doors that looked like a good kick would get you inside.

the lot was filled with battered cars and shady-looking characters milling about. i had a feeling that this half of the motel was the half used by the drug dealers and prostitutes. oh yeah, and the people with dogs.

i hauled all of my belongings inside with me--all my summer clothes, boxes of books, toby's stuff, everything that i was schlepping to columbus. i would have parked the car inside the unit, too, if i could have wedged it through the doorway.

the room had one lumpy bed with an orange chenille spread, and a grungy bathroom with peeling linoleum. i picked up the phone to call doug, but the phone was dead. toby cocked his head at me. as long as we're together, everything's ok, i was pretty sure that look meant.

i reached down and scratched him between the ears. it's just for one night, i said.

in the morning, i leashed him up to take him for a walk, but before i could open the door, i heard a knock.

from a gap in the curtain i could see a young woman standing at our door. my heart almost stopped. "who is it?" i said.

"can you help me?" she said. "i need help!"

somehow, she didn't sound convincing. i didn't know what to do. i didn't want to open the door. and i didn't want to let her know that my phone didn't work--though maybe she already knew that. maybe her phone didn't work, either. "can you call the front desk?" i said.

she knocked again. and before i could say anything else, toby let loose with a volley of barks. his bark could sound ferocious, and it did now, as he threw himself toward the door and barked and barked and barked.

through the crack in the curtain, i could see the woman dash away. and, right behind her, a large, scary-looking man who had apparently been waiting off to the side.

toby continued to bark his most menacing, i-am-really-a-german-shepherd bark.

i sank to the floor. "good boy," i said. "good boy, toby, good boy."

it was a long time before i felt safe enough to open the door and let him take his pee. which he deserved that day more than probably any other day.

a note on the pictures: there are obviously no pictures from the motel. the top picture is toby under a picnic table on a camping trip with p.miller. the bottom picture is toby and me, safely at the thurber house later that summer.

we had other adventures there--the place was haunted! and it got broken into one night! but that's a different posting for a different time...