Demon Dog

What if the universe's master plan for speech goes beyond humans? Out of all the dogs on planet Earth, little YoYo, a rescued Yorkshire terrier, has been chosen by the Committee for their investigation. They want to find out whether evolution has made any progress in the ability of other species to speak. It is decided that, of all the species available, Canis familiarus-the domesticated dog-is the most worthy of candidates. After all, even mortal scientists agree that a dog's language is alredy close to human speech. Angela, an angel, is sent to Earth to report. YoYo has had a tough life, but something within him draws divine attention. He lost his human, was inherited by people who abused him, and sent back to the breeder. Now he's in a new home where nothing looks or smells right. And though he tries hard to communicate, his new people aren't listening. But Angela is. Her job is to report on his activities, which include many adventures and attempts to communicate-and these efforts sometines come close to speech. While YoYo struggles to adjust to his new environment, Angela is having similar challenges adjusting to the strict comportment requirements of heaven itself. She sends reports on his progress as well as his bravery. After he foils a bank robber, YoYo gets a new name: Demon Dog-the crime fighting canine. Even so, the question remains: will he speak?

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Demon DogBy Lori HamiltoniUniverse LLCCopyright © 2013 Lori HamiltonAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4917-0262-8CHAPTER 1Angela took a deep breath and walked into the bright lights of thetelevision studio. The audience applauded as she took her place on thesofa. The host welcomed them with his signature lighthearted banter.Then he issued the challenge. "Okay, let's hear it."Starting with something she knew he could say, Angela spoke tothe furry bundle in her lap: "Say Maaa-maaa." She repeated, "Mama,maaa-maa." He listened, tilting his head from side to side as she spoke,pink tongue panting from the heat of the lights, but remained silent.Frustrated, she tried coaxing him. "Come on, darlin'—say maa—maa.You can do it."The audience watched in anticipation as she bounced him on her lap."Baby doll, you did it before. Just do it again. Please! See all these nicepeople waiting to hear you speak? You know, just like you do at home."An incredulous Jay Leno asked, "He says it all the time at home?""Yes, he does. And he says other words too. Eat. Out. Play. Play isthe hardest one because of the p. It requires puckering of the lips. Comeon, darlin', pucker up those little lips." Angela showed him how to doit. She puckered and puffed out a p, making a soft "pooh" sound. Itseemed feasible that he could duplicate her efforts, but Brandy was moreinterested in the audience—a sea of faces and lots of tantalizing scents.His lips didn't move, but his nose quivered with excitement.Jay agreed. "Yeah, I imagine it would be a little tough for him topucker." The audience snickered at such an improbability. "How did youever get the crazy idea that your dog could talk?""Right. I thought it was crazy, too, when I heard Barbara Walters sayher dog told her he loved her. Then I began to think about it. I startedlistening to all of Brandy's sounds."Brandy was a tiny Yorkshire terrier, appropriately named because ofhis long, silky, black-and-gold coat. He was Angela's constant companionand sole roommate—her only diversion other than an occasionalexcursion to Las Vegas with her friend Agnes. The music of the slotmachines was hypnotic, but the blackjack table was the magnet thatpulled them back for more visits. If the pros at the table thought the twoolder ladies were easy targets, they soon learned that behind the bifocalsand gray hair were minds that could count as fast as adding machines. Infact, Angela bought Brandy with her winnings from one session."Then I began daily sessions of repeating sounds over and over. Atfirst he barked in response. But slowly I noticed the barks changing. Ibegan to hear interesting sounds. Sounds like words. Not distinctly, ofcourse, but a reasonable facsimile.""How long have you been hearing sounds?"The audience laughed at the implication, but Angela explained."Each time he tried, he got a cookie. His favorite animal crackers.Chicken-flavored. Before long, as soon as I took the box out of the pantry,he knew what was expected. It was like a game to him. We practice everyday.""If he talks every day, why won't he say something now? Let's hear'eat, out, play.'""I think he's apprehensive. He doesn't know you. I think he needs tocheck you out. Here, you take him. Then he may talk for us."She pushed the tiny dog over to Jay. He hesitated but then reachedout to pick him up. An ominous Grrrrrrr ... grrrrrr ... grrrrrrr ...stopped him, and he quickly withdrew his hand."Hey, that's the same thing my dog says when someone tries to takehis bone away. Does that mean that he's likely to start talking too?"Angela was embarrassed. She hadn't expected Brandy to misbehave,especially not on national TV."I don't understand. He said several words when we were on theLetterman show."Jay was gracious about it. "That's okay. Dave needs the ratings."Then he launched into a series of jokes that kept the audience laughing.Accustomed to a quiet neighborhood where the most activity on anygiven day was the postman dropping mail in the box or a rare visit fromthe UPS guy, Brandy reacted to the noise and jumped off Angela's lap.Barking as loud as a five-pound terrier could, he charged the audienceright to the edge of the stage. His barks echoed throughout the studio."Yeah, boy, go for it," Jay cheered him on. "Now that's a conversationI can understand. He's telling us to get the hell out of here. Angela, youhave a real winner here."The audience applauded as Angela and Brandy made their exit.Unseen by Jay and the audience, others had been watching the sceneon stage. They nodded approval and made excited sounds. Copious noteswere made on long, white scrolls.Angela was discouraged but not defeated. In the taxi ride to the five-starhotel where the producers had booked her, she held Brandy close toher face and looked into his eyes.Hugging him, she said, "Darlin', you disappointed me. But I still loveyou. As soon as we get home, we're going to work. You got some laaarrnin'to do, honeybunch."Brandy responded with his favorite word. "Eat." Or a reasonablefacsimile. When he licked her nose, he tasted the makeup and coughedat the bitter taste."Ugh? Did you say 'ugh'?" My, my, how your vocabulary isincreasing!"Brandy has his own ideas about these efforts to help himcommunicate.Do they think I was born yesterday? What comes after I learn to speak?Doing the dishes? Mopping the floor? Taking out the garbage? Is the next stepputting a pencil in my paw and expecting me to write out in cursive letters?No thanks. My "dog's life" is just fine, although I was confused when shestarted all the speaking stuff. I may not be able to produce those vowels andconsonants she talks about, but I know we do communicate. She understandswhen I announce someone is at the door. I understand when she says, "Baddog." Nevertheless, I will do my best and try hard to produce those vowelsand consonants she wants to hear. I want nothing more than to please her.So I'll try. Really hard!When they got home, Angela and Brandy continued their daily ritualof walks, play, bathing, brushing, and practice sessions. He curled up onher lap while she read or knitted scarves for the church to distribute tothe needy.One sunlit morning when they took their walk in the backyard,inspecting the garden for snails and weeds, Angela tripped over atree stump. She fell to the ground, and when she couldn't get up, shethought her hip was broken. A trip to the emergency room confirmedher diagnosis. That's when Brandy's misfortunes began. The doctors toldher she couldn't go home. Instead, they sent her to a convalescent homewhere complications developed. Complications that ended her life.When Angela awoke, she was in a different place, a strange place.She looked around, but nothing seemed familiar.Where am I? What kind of place is this? Well, I can see there's no dresscode. I see lots of others in their hospital nighties too. It's kind of nice here.I'm actually floating. Never felt so free. I'd appreciate it more if I knew what'shappening to Brandy. It's terrible for him to be left alone.----Angela, you've been chosen.Excuse me. I don't understand. What do you mean, "chosen"?----We waited for the right person to arrive. We've been observingyour work for some time. We believe you are the right person for ourstudy.What study is that, if you don't mind my asking?----It's a study to determine whether Brandy has made actualprogress in his ability to speak. Your work with him was encouragingand may prove that dogs are continuing to evolve according to the plan.Oh, good! That means I get to go back to my dog.----No. There is no going back. The law is that everything mustcontinue to progress, expand. That is the law of the universe ... alluniverses. You cannot return to Brandy. If you accept this assignment,you will be trained for the mission. Then, after a brief tour of theDimension, you will be sent back, but as a spy. Only to observe andevaluate. And report to us.Great! This is an opportunity to help my dog.----You cannot help him or influence him. You can only report. Ifyou are successful, you will be rewarded.Rewarded?----Yes. You will have two choices. You can choose to rise to the nextlevel here.But it's very nice here.----Yes, it's hard to imagine that any place could be better. In fact,no imagination is capable of comprehending what the next level is like.It has to be experienced. It's the reward of rewards.Or?----The alternative reward is that you can make a wish, and yourwish will be granted.What happens if I fail with the mission?----My dear, there is no punishment here. Only rewards. You willremain as you are now.Okay! Then I'll do it. I accept. When do I start?----Right now.CHAPTER 2I know darn well what Brandy would say if he knew I was back."I hate that you abandoned me."It's true. I admit I did abandon him. It was unintentional, unexpected,and involuntary. But he doesn't know that, and, besides, he's not my doganymore. I'm trying to deal with that fact as best I can ... along with theshock of what happened to me. I still don't understand it, but I know I'mback with my dog. And that's a good thing.Now he has a new name. YoYo. Can you believe such a silly name?Anyway, I'm hovering above his new home, waiting to observe him andbegin my assignment. They said that I should try to get evidence thatevolution has progressed enough so that Canis familiaris can talk. Well,at least manage a few words or a reasonable facsimile. This is of greatinterest to the Committee, whoever they are. They explained how theydesigned the process called "evolution." It's intended to improve thespecies—all species. They made it self-perpetuating so it doesn't requireconstant oversight. The Committee already has a full plate. But they sayit's time for an evaluation to see how things are going with dogs.I know there's some support on Earth where scientists agree that thedog's bark is the closest to human language of any animal sound. Sincedogs have been best buddies with humans for at least a hundred thousandyears, the prospects are reasonably good that communication can occur,especially considering the quality of the candidate they have chosen tostudy. The Committee chose YoYo over zillions of other candidates.Unfortunately, when I was removed from YoYo, my son and daughter-in-lawinherited him. That's when his life became hell. He was trainedwith a doggy door, but my son lives in a tenth-story condo. Both he andhis wife work, so they left him alone all day. Need I say more about thenumerous accidents, the messes to be cleaned up, my daughter-in-law'shostility, my son's anger, or the ignorant, abusive treatment they inflictedon YoYo?When I passed on to the next world, they were relieved. They couldget rid of him. Fortunately, they did the right thing and returned himto the breeder who sold him to me. That made him a rescue dog insteadof a much-beloved, pampered pet who spent most of his days on my lap.The breeder took him back, knowing it would be hard to find a homefor a mature male terrier, since most buyers prefer females. Because ofthe abuse, YoYo was shy and lacked confidence. But a miracle happened.A nice young lady came and took him home with her. She was veryaffectionate, and he fell madly in love with her.I don't know whether he was in love with me. I only had him a shorttime. But I did love him dearly. I still love him. I want to pick him up andhug him, but I can't. However, I can encircle his little body, nestle in hissoft fur, and peer into those black eyes. A big perk comes with this job.I get to be with the cutest little terrier in the whole world and watch hisnonstop play. It doesn't matter that he can't see me.He has a story to tell, and that's why he's a good candidate forour study. I know he remembers that he was born in a crib lined withnewspaper. His mother seemed huge the first time he opened his eyesand saw her pink tummy. But then he weighed only a couple of ounces.Other puppies were feeding there too. He remembers how concernedhis mother was when anyone picked up his brother or sister ... and howone day some strangers came in, made lots of ooohhing and ahhhingsounds, and left with his sister. He and his brother missed her terribly.He remembers that soon after that, another stranger came, a lady witha cane. She held him the longest and then put him in a box and took himhome. He cried all the way. But the next day, he found out how nice itwas to be cuddled in a warm lap and soon adapted to his new mother.Me. The one who abandoned him.What if he tells us about that abandonment? What he thought andfelt, shedding some light on dogs' emotions ... What his life is like nowwith that new owner? I would give a lot to know whether he still missesme. I hope to learn all these answers.This may be an impossible mission. Speaking is a problem for dogsbecause of their stiff lips and large, inflexible tongues. They do okay withsome vowels—the yips, howls, barks, and growls. It's consonants that arethe problem, especially p's. Imagine a dog saying, "Purple people pepperpuppy." Their communication system works fine for them, but humanscan't understand it, so we hope dogs can find a way to produce somewords. Preferably in English. French or Chinese would present a greaterchallenge. I'm to look for key signs that speech is possible. Owners maybe surprised, however, to discover how their dogs feel about those one-wayorders: "Sit, stand, down, fetch, and roll over." And the possibilitythat dogs might issue a few commands of their own.The breeder sold YoYo to a nice young lady whose name is HollyHancock, for a mere $500. That's far less than the $2,500 I paid, thegoing price for a purebred Yorkshire terrier. Holly is a freelance writerspecializing in educational issues. Some of her articles are publishedaround the world. She lives in Los Angeles and is petite, with a wholesome,scrubbed look. Her dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair frames delicatefeatures, and she has big blue eyes. Needless to say, there's no resemblanceto what I looked like.I'm on duty in her house now and ready to use the helpful toolsprovided by the Committee. One of these tools enables me to knowwhat's going on in the human mind. I was cautioned not to use this powerindiscriminately and only to further the project. In other words, it's nota plaything. But I do wonder how humans would react if they knew wehave access to all their secret thoughts. That would be a real game of"gotcha." Mention of what YoYo is thinking will be kept to a minimumin the report. We already know what he's thinking. If it's relevant, I'llinclude it in the report. It's what he's trying to say that is important.Holly has worked all day and just looked at her watch. This willbe my first chance to enter someone's head and see what's there. Herewe go! Dare I say, "Whoopee"? As I tune in, she seems irritated aboutsomething.Oh no. It's 5:40. Where did the day go? I forgot about that check fromBrazil. It should be deposited, but I don't want to put it in the ATM. Thebank closes at six, so I better get on my horse and get going. Where did I leavemy purse? I hope the car keys are in it, because now I'm rushing.It's only ten minutes to the bank. I'll grab YoYo and take him withme—he needs all the exposure he can get.I wonder what she means by "needs exposure." Exposure to what,and why? I'm sure I'll find out.And YoYo isn't cooperating. He's run to his cage. Now he's rolledover in a submissive position. The poor darling is frightened. He knowsshe wants to take him with her, but he doesn't want to go. He's afraid ofbeing uprooted again. Holly lifts him out, but he is unhappy. I carefullymove closer. I want to hear the sounds he is making.They're typical doggie sounds, "Oh, oh, oh," except he is moving hiswhole mouth and jaw with each "oh." But the mouth and jaw don't needto move to make an o. That means he's trying something else, maybe aconsonant. I'll make an uneducated guess that he's trying for an n. Soit's not "Oh, oh, oh." They're heading for the garage, and he's saying, "No.No. No." Well, it's a good beginning.Holly's other dog, a thirteen-year-old lab, rises slowly from hiscushion on arthritic limbs. Not wanting to be left behind, he follows.There may be some sibling rivalry here. I hitch a ride on the roof of hercar to rest my wings and save a little energy. It took quite a bit out of meto get here from the Dimension.She pulls into the parking lot at 5:50, with ten minutes to spare, rollsdown the window for the other dog, scoops up YoYo and her purse, andheads for the bank. The guard seems to know her, and Holly pauses fora moment to chat with him."Hey, that's some killer dog you got there.""Hi, Joe. You may not be wrong about 'killer dog.' He's bitten myhusband several times."Now that's news to include in the report. What's that about? (Continues...)Excerpted from Demon Dog by Lori Hamilton. Copyright © 2013 Lori Hamilton. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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