BIG Puddy Tat

It was a Sunday morning. Rex was lying on the couch, paralyzed in fear. He was rigid as rebar and panting in shallow, measured breaths. His eyes bugged out like bloodshot grapes as he cautiously, slowly scanned the living room for any signs of mountain lions.

“Rex, Rex, Rex. It’ll be okay. You’re safe. No mountain lions are going to get you. Calm yourself down.”

Rex’s previous exposure to the feline world consisted of his occasional bouts with the neighborhood bully, the Hernandez’s alley cat. Once or twice a year, Rex would come limping into the house with a bead of blood on his nose and perhaps a small missing chunk of fur, surgically removed by the cat’s razor-sharp claws. The cat wasn’t much bigger than he, but that cat was not something to mess with.

To that end, and perhaps in error, I had taken Rex to a book signing at Borders Books the previous day. The book, East Garrison, set at the old Ft. Ord location, is an incredible book written by a friend of mine, Gwyn Weger.

I had smuggled Rex in under my jacket. What appeared to be a beer gut was a Dachshund gut. Once seated, I zipped the jacket open to let a curious small black snout peer out. So far, so good.

I should mention that an ongoing “character” in East Garrison is a mountain lion living in the shrubs and bushes of Ft. Ord. Gwyn had milked that menacing aspect beautifully. She had brought with her to the signing a paw print cast of a huge mountain lion, a skull as an exhibit, and an on-going recording of a screaming mountain lion, among other things.

I think it was the recording that initially sent little Rexie over the edge. His past confrontations with the Hernandez’s cat involved hissing and snarling I’m sure, but when he heard the mountain lion snarls, he started to shake.

“Calm down, Rex. It’s just a recording,” I had told him. “Don’t make a scene or you’ll get us both thrown out of here. I don’t mind being thrown out of a bar every now and then, but what would the guys say if I were thrown out of a bookstore? Now settle down.”

I tried to pay attention to Gwyn as she told as much of the book as she could without giving away the entire plot, which involves relationships, fear, and raw courage.

A cougar claw, as big as my thumb, and some scat which had what looked like Dachshund fur mixed in it, was passed around. Rex almost fainted.

At one point she passed around the plaster casting of the paw print. As it passed down our row, Rex looked at it and then looked up at me, his eyes searching for meaning and an image of something that would have a paw that big.

It was at that point that his eyes glazed over.

The print was almost as large as my hand with my fingers splayed apart. His pupils constricted; not a good thing. It reminded me of my old girlfriend Fiona when she went to that “secret dark place” in her mind, which was not a good place. We finally broke up after Fiona had stayed in her “secret dark place” for two weeks. I had to get Rex relaxed.

“Rex, just breathe deeply. There’s no mountain lion. You’re not in harm’s way.” It was too late.

The intense squirming was the first indicator of the trouble that lay ahead. His stomach was convulsing. Then a retching sound brought to my attention that I had a big problem at hand. Rex was so afraid, he was about to throw up. Probably in my jacket; for sure on me. It was time to leave.

Gwyn saw the commotion and offered a quizzical look. Out popped Rex’s head (he had evidently been “deep breathing” inside my jacket). As I started to stand up to leave, it happened. Down my coat and into my lap.

Of course, everyone looked at the scene and Gwyn stopped her presentation. I took Rex out of my coat and held him under my arm as we exited as gracefully as we could. I had a mess on me that resembled this morning’s leftover Costco pizza. (He had half a cold pizza for breakfast.) He was shaking and quivering (multi-tasking) as more eruptions of pizza plopped along our path out to my truck.

I would highly recommend East Garrison as a good read by a local author, but if you have a small black Dachshund who is afraid of neighborhood cats, beware.