Oh, Baxter
by Carolyn Hassall
Baxter the
beagle sat quietly drinking in the mayhem around
him. First, there was the food fight and
then the twins moved on to hitting each other
with pillows. Now there was foam, feathers,
smeared Jello and squished brownies everywhere.
Baxter’s sensitive nose twitched at the
heady aroma. He started to drool.
Unable to control himself, he pounced on a large
chocolatey chunk and quickly gobbled it down.
“I can’t
leave you for ten seconds!” exclaimed Stacey,
surveying the damage as she came into the room.
Clara glanced at Chloe and then looked up at her
mom, “It wasn’t us,” she began.
Stacey’s
eyes strayed over the twins’ curly brown
hair and settled on Baxter. The
circumstantial evidence was strong, Baxter indeed
looked guilty with crumbs and feathers stuck in
the drool on his jowls. “Oh Baxter,
you bad dog,” she pointed to the corner.
Baxter slunk off sighing, his round, sad eyes
downcast.
The children
quietly helped Stacey tidy up, relieved that
Baxter was fall guy.
***
“Why is
the dog moping?” The twins’ dad asked
when he came home later.
“He’s
in trouble AGAIN,” the girls chimed in
unison. “He was very naughty,”
said Chloe her eyes wide and innocent, “He
made such a mess!”
“We
cleaned it up” added Clara smugly, her arm
around her sister, the very picture of
treacherous solidarity.
“Oh
Baxter,” said Charlie, “What are we to
do with you?” He came over and patted
Baxter on his soft brown head. Baxter
sighed, his round sad eyes looking up lovingly.
“Do you
want dinner?,” Stacey asked her husband.
“No,
thanks,” said Charlie, heading for his usual
seat at the end of the room. “I
already ate.” Charlie had in fact had
a large lunch at his favorite all-you-can-eat
buffet, but he decided not to mention that detail.
Stacey had recently banned him from eating there
because the food gave him bad gas. Fingers
crossed he’d get away with it this time.
An hour later
the gastric rumblings began. Stacey was
busy reading the mail and the girls were happily
coloring at the kitchen table. Charlie
managed to suppress the sound effects, but the
gas was escaping regardless and soon the air was
ripe.
First Baxter,
who had been happily snoozing at Charlie’s
feet, got up in disgust and went to sit by the
open window. Then Stacey’s nose
started to wrinkle.
“Phooey,”
she said looking up, “What is that awful
smell?”
Charlie looked
up over his book, “Nothing over here,”
he lied hopefully. Now Chloe and Clara
could smell it too. “Yucky, yucky,”
said Chloe pinching her nose.
Charlie’s
eyes wandered around the room, searching
desperately for something to deflect the
conversation as his gut continued to rumble.
His gaze fell conveniently on the beleaguered
beagle.
“Oh,
Baxter!” he said accusingly. Clearly
betrayal ran in the family.
“It’s
all that feather brownie he ate earlier”
piped up Clara. “He’s such a
naughty dog.”
This time
there was no circumstantial evidence, but there
was an undeniable credibility in the accusation.
Baxter sighed; his round sad eyes distraught at
the injustice.
***
The next day
the twins were getting ready for school when
Chloe realized that with all the fun of the food
and pillow fight, she hadn’t done her
homework. She began to cry.
“What’s
wrong sweetie?” Stacey bent down to her
daughter sympathetically.
“I can’t
find my homework,” she lied, real tears
running down her cheeks. “I did it
last night and now it’s not here.”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she spotted Baxter
by the door. “Do you think the dog ate
it?” she asked Stacey, optimistically.
“Baxter?”
Stacey mused thoughtfully, as she scooped Chloe
up into her arms, “We need to go now.
Don’t worry, I’ll talk to your teacher,
but we need to do something about that dog.”
***
Later that
evening, with dinner over and the dishwasher
humming in the background, the twins sat happily
at the table finishing off today’s (and
yesterday’s) homework. Stacey went
over to sit next to Charlie on the sofa.
“Honey,”
she began, “We need to talk about Baxter.”
“Baxter?”
Charlie reddened slightly with guilt, “What
about him?”
“Well,”
said Stacey looking at the beagle, snoring gently
on his bed, “It seems like he’s always
in the middle of some trouble, maybe he’d be
better with another family where he’d get
more attention,” she ventured.
“Oh
Baxter, no! No!” The girls jumped up
in panic, running over to their faithful hound’s
side.
“It’s
not his fault he ate the brownie,” wailed
Clara, “It was on the floor and he’s a
dog. That’s what dogs do, Mom!”
“Yes,”
chipped in Charlie, “And that’s what
made him smelly, give the old boy a break, dogs
are smelly you know.”
“And
maybe we had a bit to do with
the feathers,” ventured Chloe. “It
wasn’t ALL his fault.”
“Well, if
you’re sure,” said Stacey cautiously,
“I’d hate to see him go too.”
“Yes, yes,
yes. He’s our best friend EVER,”
the girls chorused.
“You’ll
never get a more loyal friend than a dog, Stacey,”
added Charlie, knowingly.
Charlie,
Stacey, Chloe and Clara all crowded round Baxter,
mussing his ears, rubbing his tummy and patting
his head. Baxter sighed, because that’s
what beagles always do, his round sad eyes
brimming with love.
Oh,
Baxter by Carolyn Hassall
Copyright DECEMBER 2023 – All Rights
Reserved
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