The Household Crisis Department

My name is Laddie, and I am a rough collie. Remember Lassie? She was one gorgeous girl. I look like her, except I am more majestic. I live with my Mom and Dad. They believe they own the house. I have never corrected them because they seem happy with the arrangement.

Most mornings begin with me stationed at the front window conducting security patrol. That is where I first met Chester. Chester was sitting on top of the fence, twitching his tail back and forth. He looked like he wasn't doing anything, but I knew better. Now, I have spent years observing squirrels, and I can tell you with confidence that when a squirrel appears to be doing nothing, he is almost certainly doing something ridiculous.

I barked at the window until I got his attention. "State your business."

Chester looked around. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm just sitting here."

"Why?"

He stared at me. "Because that's what I want to do."

I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds suspicious. Go somewhere else and do nothing. This is my yard."

Chester swished his tail back and forth. "You think everything sounds suspicious."

"That's because I'm good at my job."

From that day forward, Chester became a regular part of my morning patrol. Unfortunately, one morning, I spotted him digging in Mama's strawberries. "What are you doing now?" I asked.

"Burying a walnut."

"Why? Why are you burying walnuts in my mama's strawberry bed? Go somewhere else and bury your stupid nuts."

"I'm burying it so I can find it later."

"Will you?"

Chester stopped digging and considered the question. "No."

"Then why bury it?"

"Honestly, I don't know anymore." At least he was self-aware.

While Chester buried walnuts he would never see again, another visitor began appearing in the yard. It was a rabbit. I have to admit it was cute. Then again, she was in my yard. I have to be very vigilant, or these critters will move right in. It is my yard.

Her name was Bonnie. Bonnie was large, calm, and completely unbothered by anything. The first time I saw her, she was sitting in the middle of the lawn eating clover.

I rushed to the window, barking as wildly as possible. "Rabbit!"

She looked up slowly. "Yes?"

"You're a rabbit."

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"Eating lunch." She continued chewing.

"That's it?"

Bonnie nodded. "That is generally how lunch works."

Bonnie never seemed concerned about anything. Cars drove by. Birds flew overhead. Squirrels launched themselves out of trees. Nothing bothered her. I just know she is going to have children, and then I will have an explosion of rabbits running in my yard, taking over.

One day, Chester fell off the fence. Bonnie looked at him on the ground. "That looked unfortunate."

Chester climbed back up. "I meant to do that."

"Of course you did."

The bird feeder attracted another regular visitor. A robin named Ruth. Ruth considered herself the official spokesperson for all of the birds. She hadn't been elected; she simply appointed herself.

One morning, she landed on the feeder while Chester and I were arguing about his abuse of my mama's strawberry patch.

"You two are blocking the seed supply."

"We're standing twenty feet away," I growled.

"That's still too close."

Chester pointed toward the feeder. "You throw half the seed on the ground anyway."

"That's quality control."

"You're dropping it."

"I'm inspecting it before I eat it."

"By throwing it away?"

"Exactly."

Chester looked at me. I looked at Chester. Neither of us understood bird management.

Across the street lived Winston, the neighbor's cat. He had long hair that was so golden brown it almost glowed. Winston believed he was sophisticated. The fact that he spent much of his day hiding under shrubs waiting for birds did not seem to affect this opinion. One afternoon, he appeared beneath Ruth's tree.

"Good afternoon, Ruthie."

Ruth immediately moved to a higher branch. "Oh no, and don't call me Ruthie."

Winston looked wounded. "What?"

"You know what."

"I was simply saying hello."

"You were crouching behind those bushes."

"I enjoy bushes."

"You enjoy ambushing birds."

Winston sat down and wrapped his tail around his paws. "That accusation lacks evidence."

"You chased me across three yards last week."

"I was exercising."

"You were exercising directly toward me."

"Coincidence."

Bonnie looked up from her clover. "I don't think that's what coincidence means."

Winston frowned. "Nobody asked the rabbit."

Bonnie resumed eating. "Nobody ever does."

Christmas brought fresh confusion. Every year, Mama and Daddy carry a tree into the living room. Every year, they act as though this is perfectly normal. The tree stands in the house wearing lights while everyone admires it. I discussed the matter with the others through the front window. "They brought a tree inside."

Chester nodded. "Maybe they're starting a forest."

"People don't grow forests in living rooms." Bonnie twitched one ear. "They also don't usually bring trees indoors."

Ruth landed on the feeder. "Humans are strange."

Winston stretched beneath a bush. "They pay money for cat toys." Everyone fell silent. He had a point.

A few days later, boxes covered with paper that had pictures and patterns on them appeared beneath the tree. "I immediately identified the package containing dog treats."

Chester looked impressed. "How did you know?"

"I have a nose."

"That seems unfair."

On Christmas morning, I received a squeaky toy. It squeaked perfectly.

SQUEAK!

Chester nearly fell off the fence. Ruth exploded into the air. Bonnie dropped a mouthful of clover. And even Winston jumped.

"What was that?" Winston screamed.

"My new toy." I squeezed it again. SQUEAK! SQUEAK!

Ruth landed on a branch. "I hate it."

Bonnie added, "I also hate it."

Winston flattened his ears. "The toy sounds broken."

"It isn't broken." "It sounds broken." Six minutes later, the squeaker stopped working. The neighborhood entered a period of recovery.

Spring again brought Mama back into the garden. As usual, she planted vegetables. And, as usual, Chester buried walnuts between the strawberries, zucchini, and the tomatoes.

One afternoon, Mama discovered a hole in the garden.

"Chester did that," I announced.

Mama looked at me, and then looked back at the hole, then simply walked away. I was disappointed by the lack of follow-up.

Meanwhile, Bonnie had stretched out in the grass and appeared to be napping.

"How can you sleep during all this?" I asked.

She opened one eye. "During what?"

"The garden situation."

"What garden situation?"

"Chester is burying walnuts in Mama's garden."

Bonnie closed her eyes again. "Sounds like a Chester problem."

The biggest surprise arrived when Mama and Daddy brought home a robot vacuum. The machine moved around the house completely on its own. It bumped into chairs, tables, and walls. I followed it from room to room while my audience gathered outside the patio door.

"What is it?" Chester asked.

"I don't know."

"It looks confused."

"It is confused." The robot bumped into a chair and spun in a circle.

Bonnie watched for a moment. "I think it's lost."

"It lives here," I said.

"Then that's even worse."

A week later, the robot vacuum became trapped beneath a chair. It beeped continuously. I sat beside it while it beeped and beeped.

When Mama found us, she laughed. "You stayed with it?"

Of course, I did. Nobody should face a furniture emergency alone.

As summer arrived, Chester buried walnuts. Ruth criticized everyone. Winston denied all accusations involving birds and occasionally a mouse or two. Bonnie ate clover and avoided unnecessary effort. Me, I supervised the entire operation.

One evening, Mama opened the back door. "Laddie, dinner time."

"I'm heading in," I announced.

Chester nodded. "Good luck."

"With what?"

"Dinner."

Ruth tucked her head beneath a wing. "Tell me if there are leftovers."

"There won't be." Winston sighed. "There never are."

I headed toward the house. Tomorrow, there would be new squirrels to question, new rabbits to investigate, and new neighborhood problems to solve. The household crisis department never closes. Fortunately, neither do I.