The Dragon and the Rabbit (Part II)
by John Waldo Miller
He was not a Dragon. He looked more like a Bear. All you would have to do cut off his tail off. It was big as a coke bottle, and then he would look like a Bear! He was black; black all over, even his asshole, without a white spot anywhere. His coat was soft as mink, and big, really big. People were afraid of him till he said, “Hello!” His gentleness was his “Hello.” And that what made him special and the reason I loved him.
Weighing at one hundred and fifty pounds, people thought he was fat, but he wasn’t, he was just big. Black as night, he could walk under a security light, and it wouldn’t turn on.
You could have named him “Stealth,” but his real name was, “Dragon!”
Not just a plain old black Labrador, but my friend, my soul brother, and my confidant. I could tell Dragon my most private secrets, and he wouldn’t tell anyone. Everybody thought he belonged to me, but he didn’t. He belonged legally to my next-door neighbor, the Duckgates, but spends most of everyday with me in my golf shop. Every morning after he made his rounds, rain or shine, he would be at my shop door at 8:00 AM. He would stay till 6:00 P.M, or until I took him home. If I didn’t walk him home, he would try to spend the night. He already had his jams-jams on. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleeping on the tile floor in the bathroom where it was cool.
He hated hot weather. In August, when it got really hot, he would pull on my pants leg meaning he wanted to go riding in the truck. The truck had air conditioning. We would ride around the neighbor with Dragon sitting on the front seat with his head next to the big vent, cooling off. The neighborhood called it, “Cooling Dragon Off.” We would go past, wave, and Dragon would smile as he turned his head toward the door glass.
The neighbors would wave back and say, “There goes John cooling Dragon off.”
Another thing we shared together was we were both Democrats. Dragon was a dyed in the wool Democrat. His grandfather up in Missouri was a judge, known as “Democrat Duckgate.” He was so stout on being a Democrat that he told me one time, that he would vote for a yellow dog, if it was the only Democrat in the race.
Dragon had a running mate that belonged to the Duckgates, whose name was Fritz. I asked Dragon about Fritz’s politics.
Dragon replied, “He’s an Unfortunate Republican, a very confused dog. He is rude, wants to bite everybody, has no friends, picks his nose, and would throw up on your shop floor in a second, can’t be trusted!”
The Duckgates were a bipartisan family.
Even thou I admired Dragon for his ability to say ‘Hello’ and keep secrets; I also admired his ability to perform a social injustice and get away with that odorous deed. He was a genius at passing gas in a mixed crowd and at the same time, past the blame to someone else! I don’t think I have ever met another dog with such a remarkable talent!
I told Dragon one day, “You old dog, you are a master with that ‘social injustice you do to people. They ain’t got no defense again such a deed.
But Dragon would just look at me and smile!
One summer, Dragon’s owners, the Duckgates, were getting ready for a vacation for two weeks. They asked could I keep Dragon for two weeks as a houseguest.
I said sure, “He’s one of the family. We love for him to spend the night over here, but what about Friz?”
They replied with a smile
Across the street and up my neighbor front lawn, which is a hill, and around in her back yard, lived a big white rabbit, whose name was Billy Bob. He’s the apple of his owner’s eye, Ella Mae Wopkins. She is my across the street neighbor. She is a good neighbor!
Billy Bob sits in a big cage that is built on a high stand so no dog can interrupt his dinner. It’s a tall cage. Dragon being a very friendly, sociable Democrat just likes to visit. He means no harm what so ever. He just likes to sit and watch this great big New Zealand rabbit, Billy Bob!
Ella Mae Wopkins, who is crazy about her Billy Bob, pays close attention too Dragon when he comes to visit. But Billy Bob really doesn’t care for Dragon watching him. The sight of Dragon always makes him start running around his cage till he knocks his water over.
That is when Ella Mae comes out of her back door and calls me with a shout, “John, call Dragon home. He’s making poor Billy Bob nervous again!”
So, I would come out of the shop and call Dragon home with, “Bones Dragon!” Sometimes she calls on the phone and asked me to call Dragon back home! Poor Billy Bob!
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One Monday morning, Ella Mae called and asked me to watch Dragon, this coming weekend. They were going out of town. They wanted to make sure Billy Bob had plenty of water. Dragon might pay a visit and cause her precious Billy Bob to knock over his water.
I said, “Sure!” and hung up.
Friday morning, along about 10:A.M, Dragon came walking thru the opened door of the shop with Billy Bob in his big mouth, wagging his tail, with a proud smile on his black face. He then deposited Billy Bob down at my feet. I thought I would wet my pants!
I looked down at Dragon, who still had this look on his face, “Look John what I brought, Billy Bob, with dirt and leaves all over him.”
I said to him, “I know Dragon, you are proud of him, but Ella Mae is going to kill us both. You know how silly she is about that rabbit. You would have thought that rabbit was human! Women! They are so irrational at times! I’m glad we aren’t that silly, Dragon!”
I checked Billy Bob out, and said to Dragon, “Yep, he’s dead alright, about as dead as a rabbit can get.”
Then I had a thought, and I told Dragon, “We can’t bring him back alive, but we can make him look alive. Let’s go in the house! I’ve got an idea! Miss Joan isn’t at home, and that would be to our advantage. We can use her bathtub.”
Dragon and I took Billy Bob, put him in Miss Joan’s bathtub, and washed all that mud and leaves off. We even used some of Miss Joan’s smelling soap. Then we took her hair dryer and fluffed up his hair to make him look alive. Dragon took all this in; he didn’t want us to lose Billy Bob. Dragon approved, because his tail was really wagging! Then we carried Billy Bob back across the street, up the big hill, and put him back in his cage. I sat Billy Bob up on the side of the cage, which made him look like he was just sitting there. Then we beat it back across the street to the workshop, very proud of ourselves. We both made a pack. I wouldn’t tell on him, if he wouldn’t tell on me.
Sunday night, Ella Mae called and said, “John a strange thing has happened. After Wilbur and I had been home for about an hour, I looked out the back window toward Billy Bob’s cage. I was shocked! Billy Bob was in his cage! I called Wilbur to come have a look, he saw him too. Billy Bob was in his cage! We were both shocked. We thought we were seeing a ghost! But, here’s the strange part. Billy Bob died Thursday night! We buried him before we left Friday morning. Do you or Dragon know anything about this?”
I replied, “Dragon and I are sorry Billy Bob died, we know how much you loved him, but we don’t know “Nothin’.” And I hung up! The next day, Ella May, Wilbur, Fritz, Dragon, and I gave Billy Bob a decent burial. Dragon was dressed in black, so was I.
Dragon died March the third 2002, on a Sunday, at 4:31 PM. He liked Sundays. He knew it was fried chicken day. I cried for seven days and a half! Then stopped! But Dragon left a hole in me, a hole I think I’ll never fill!
Bless Dragon’s heart
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John was raised a Tennessee boy. He makes his home in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife, Joan Seigenthaler-Miller. He enjoys writing fiction novels and short stories with the dialogue written in a soft mountain dialect. His first novel, The "Curse of Satan’s Collar", was published in 2008. This book has been award the prestigious CLARK COX HISTORICAL FICTION AWARD. |
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Click here to see the letter John received. |
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Review other stories John wrote for the F&Q. See the Article Index for 2008. |
Thanks for the story John... J. Wolf
