Dogs
by Arthur Bradford

No doubt you'll think I'm strange when I tell you I've been making love with my girlfriend's dog. But that is not my most unsettling secret. Our affair came about one afternoon through a gradual progression of caressing and snuggling. Neither one of us, me or the dog, knew what to think after it happened. We just sat there kind of surprised at the way things had turned out. We really hadn't thought of each other like that. But then, afterward, whenever we found ourselves alone, we'd slip into it again. Eventually my girlfriend, Maria, began to notice that my sex drive was down. We live together and there was no hiding it. I just didn't have enough in me for both Maria and the dog. I was afraid Maria suspected another woman, but I couldn't tell her the truth. The dog, by the way, was a little hound-mix, sleek, spotted, and soft. Her name was Ellouise.

It was hard enough to deal with my decreased sex drive, but then Ellouise began behaving in a way which threatened to blow our cover once and for all. She was getting jealous. Whenever Maria and I got amorous, Ellouise would begin to growl. When Maria and I cuddled on the couch, Ellouise would jump up between us. One night, as we lay sleeping on the bed, I felt a warm tongue licking at my thigh. It was Ellouise, right there in front of Maria! I sat up and pretended to be shocked.

"Ellouise, what are you doing?" I asked.

Luckily, Maria was asleep.

I tried to talk to Ellouise and make her see the diffi- culty of our situation. I tried to explain that our little affair was nothing more than a fling, but I'm afraid she didn't understand. She barked at me when I protested, and it was all I could do to keep our lovemaking discreet. One day, while I was at work, I got a call from Maria.

"Have you noticed a change in Ellouise?" she asked me.

"No, not really," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said.

"I took her to the vet today," said Maria.

"You did?"

"Yes," said Maria. "Ellouise is pregnant."

"My God," I said, "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," said Maria. "I thought we'd kept an eye on her."

"We did."

"She's due in three weeks," said Maria.

"Three weeks?"

"Yes," said Maria. "Who would've guessed?"

"Not me."

I did some research and learned that the gestation period for dogs is about eight weeks long. I thought back over my affair with Ellouise and realized that our first encounter was just about five weeks ago. Had I gotten her pregnant the first time?

I tried calling a few veterinarians. I asked them, anonymously of course, about the possibility of conception between a man and a dog, but they all took it as some kind of prank. I couldn't get a straight answer. I rushed home and took Ellouise into the bedroom so I could consult with her in private. "Tell me the truth," I said. "Has there been anyone else?"

Maria walked in and said, "Why are you talking to the dog?"

"I was just trying to find out who the father is," I said.

"Well," said Maria, "let me know if she tells you."

Three weeks later Maria and I were sitting in the living room when Ellouise dashed outside and began to dig about under the porch.

"She's making a nest under there," said Maria.

"She's getting ready to give birth."

I thought about confessing to Maria right then, just to preempt the shock she would inevitably feel upon seeing my features attached to a litter of puppies, but I didn't have the courage. Also, I still hoped that maybe it was actually some stray canine who had impregnated Ellouise.

That night, as we stood on the porch, we heard the first muted cries of Ellouise's offspring. I listened carefully for any sounds vaguely human, but I couldn't tell.

"I think you should go under there," said Maria.

"Bring them inside."

"Okay," I said.

I grabbed a flashlight and crawled under the porch. There wasn't much space. Maria stood above calling out directions through the cracks.

"They're over here," she said.

I shimmied my way across the dirt and shined my light upon the pups. There sat Ellouise with a litter of squirming little bodies. I crept closer. They all appeared quite doglike, wet and furry, about the size of chipmunks. What relief! There were no human features on the little pups at all.

"They're beautiful," I told Maria.

"Bring them out," she said.

Then Ellouise stood up and I saw that there was one more body behind her. It was pale-skinned and hairless. I shined the light upon it and saw that it was not a dog, but a tiny baby boy.

"Oh, God," I said.

"What is it?" said Maria, from above.

I was silent. The little boy, my son, kicked his legs and let out a high-pitched cry. I dove forward and put my hand over his mouth.

"It's okay," I said.

"Bring them out," said Maria.

"I will," I said.

One by one I scooped up the puppies and delivered them to Maria who stood waiting with a towel. I brought them all to her, all except the boy. While she was inside with the pups, I crawled back under the porch, took off my shirt, and wrapped him up inside it. I placed the boy back in the nest that Ellouise had dug out for the puppies, and left him under the porch. We made a new nest for Ellouise inside one of the closets and put the puppies there. Ellouise whined in protest, insisting that all her puppies were not with her.

"It's okay, Ellouise," I said.

That night, as Maria slept, I went back under the porch. There, in the little dirt nest I had dug for him, lay my son. He kicked and let out a cry. I cupped him in my hands and smuggled him inside where Ellouise was nursing her pups. She seemed relieved to see him. I placed the tiny boy's mouth upon one of her nipples and watched as he sucked away at the dog's milk. I examined him more closely in the dim light. He seemed perfectly human, except that he was so small. I could hold him easily in one hand. Perhaps as he grew older his dog features would emerge.

I let the little boy nurse until he'd had his fill, and then I scooped him up again. I lined the inside of a shoebox with one of my old T-shirts and put the child inside. Then I took him for a ride in the car. We drove far out into the countryside and as dawn was breaking we came upon a bridge which passed over a river. At first, I thought I would toss the child over, into the water, but then I decided to do something else.

The sun was beginning to rise and there was a fog on the river's surface. I took my dogchild down to the riverbank, still carrying him in the little shoebox lined with my shirt. The river's current was strong and swift. I walked into the water until it reached past my knees. Then I set the dogchild afloat in his little box. He drifted away from me, spinning on the swirling current. Soon my firstborn son had disappeared into the fog. For a while I just stood there feeling the cool water wrap around my legs and watching a new day emerge. I thought to myself, Maybe some princess will find my child drifting along like that. Maybe she'll raise him as one of her own, and he will be the leader of his people.

Maria and I found homes for the remaining pups and then we broke up. It was a mutual decision. She never did find out about my secret. Maria took Ellouise with her but I kept one of the pups for myself- I called her Ellouise Jr.-and we moved out to the country. Our relationship was purely platonic.

One morning I let Ellouise Jr. outside and about a half hour later she returned with what I thought was a muskrat in her mouth. It was a limp, furry creature with a long body and short little legs. I assumed it was dead until she put it down on the kitchen floor and the little rodent ran under the sofa.

I got a broomstick and tried to coax it out, but the muskrat wouldn't budge. He was all huddled up in the corner where I couldn't get in a good poke.

"Okay, fine," I said.

I lifted up the couch and moved it away from the wall. Now he had nowhere to hide. But when I looked back under there the muskrat was gone. For a second I thought he had made a run for the door, but then I realized he had climbed up into the lining of the couch. I could see a little sag in the fabric where he was standing.

"Oh, well," I said. I wasn't about to rip up the couch over a muskrat. I figured I'd just leave my doors open and hope he had the sense to make an escape sometime soon. I tried to be especially quiet that morning so as not to frighten my new houseguest. I put Ellouise Jr. in the backyard. She was very anxious about the whole thing. She rarely got the chance to eat live animals and I could tell she regarded the muskrat's escape as a piece of pretty bad luck.

The morning passed by and, despite my efforts, the muskrat stayed where it was. At lunchtime I placed a plate of tuna fish next to the couch hoping the aroma would lure him out, but that didn't work, either. Then, at about two o'clock that afternoon, I began to hear the singing. It was a tiny, high-pitched voice. First I checked to see if I'd left the radio on at a low volume. Then I looked outside to see if maybe someone far away was singing, but I saw nothing. Eventually I figured out that the sounds were coming from inside the couch. I moved a little closer.

There is a house in New Orleans, they call the rising sun . . .

The muskrat was singing! And to be fair, he had a fine voice. It was a little timid, and somewhat higherpitched than what you'd expect, but he could definitely carry a tune.

I knelt down and peered under the couch. "Is that you singing?" I asked

The song stopped.

"It sounded good," I said.

Apparently the muskrat was shy. I shouldn't have said anything at all to him because I didn't hear any more that afternoon.

Later on, though, as I got ready for bed, the singing started up again.

Wake up Little Suzy, wake up . . .

I crept closer to the couch and listened to the whole song. It was a fairly good rendition of the Everly Brothers original. As the song ended I tiptoed into my bedroom and found my old tape recorder. I went back to the couch, ready to get some proof of all this. I stood there with the tape player in my hand for some time, though. Then I heard, "That's it for tonight, pal."