Page Two Hundred-Six.
Quito died recently, Friday, March 7th, 2014, 6PM, to be exact. The world lost one special doggy in that one, lemme tell ya. Now that he's gone though, his secrets can finally be told. And I'm just the person to tell 'em. Here goes.
Quito was a 50 pound, poly-breed, long-haired black and white thing whom I dog-sat whenever his pet humans were out-of-town. He resembled a Collie, preferred The Who over Led Zeppelin, knew 6 languages fluently* was 12 when he died and had quite a life. Few people knew his clandestine affairs, but he shared them with me while we were alone in his rather large, contemporary, pink champagne beige, brick Shaker Heights home during all those extended weekends.
His humans are world travelers; they're royalty. Their cousins, Clair, Hannah, Evelyn and Grant along with their dog, Harli-Monster, are rulers of a European country which must, obviously, remain anonymous. But, those 5 have no direct heirs so these four children, Quito's humans, are going to be taking over the throne one day. All you really need to know for right now are their names: Jordan is the baby girl (who's now 7), then Jackson (8), Thomas (14), finally William is the crown prince (15). They're beautiful and charming children who's down to earth demeanor belies their upper crust, blue blood, royal status.
Parents found Quito in the Rubbermaid garbage can one morning. Plain and simple. Seems he'd crawled in one night looking for food, then couldn't get out. What a humble beginning to one of the most auspicious lives of the 21st century. He was about 10-12 weeks old when found but 5 months old when he began developing his super-powers.
William and Thomas were very little that August day when they took Quito outside and were ho-humming through a game of Twister with him in the steamy, hot sunshine. Nena was singing about 99 Luftballons on the outdoor Victrola. The smell of freshly shaved grass was in the air as Ippolitto & Sons had just finished cutting the large emerald green expanse of backyard. The three of them were excitedly looking forward to the Feast of the Assumption street festival they'd be attending a few days later.
"I can't wait to eat the scrumptious fried calamari," piped baby Thomas. "If I shan't get my bellyfull of those luscious ringed morsels, I shan throw a tantrum like Parents never experienced. I mean from me anyhoo."
"I'm anticipating with great glee the elephant ears with extra Vietnamese cinnamon sprinkled atop," squeaked young Prince William. "I do believe Vietnam grows the best cinnamon, don't you Quito?"
"Heavens to Murgatroyd! Who cares about cinnamon? I want the homemade sausage pizza," woofed Quito.
They proceeded to have an overly animated conversation about which food would taste the best. Then it happened. There was a quick flash in the atmosphere above and they all looked up just in time to see a fireball the size of a scoop of pralines and cream gelato come flying down out of nowhere, well the sky really, and land right near the Twister board. Quito went close, but not too close, to the still flaming ball because he wanted to protect the boys, yet investigate also. After a moment, the flame went out but the heat scorched a bit of grass which gradually grew to the approximate size and shape of a red, felt Christmas tree skirt with white furry trim; the kind you might purchase from K-Mart. Quito was standing in that spot while it happened. He felt no burn, instead just a slight stinging sensation in each foot; a stinging similar to the shot of penicillin you get in response to a positive strep throat culture. It barely registered with him at the time.
(Let me interrupt myself right here and now. I'm relating this story as Quito told me. I've never had any reason to question it.)
So later that evening, after changing Thomas's very smelly diaper, rapping Tone Loc's "Funky Cold Medina" to William and changing the burned out bulb in the boys' bedroom night light, he began noticing a taste in his mouth. The taste was definitely that of Hamburger Helper, but more effervescent somehow. Could it be? Yes! it was... the taste was homemade Hamburger Helper. "Oh great! And here I am on a low-carb diet" he barked to himself. But he could just smell the cheesy, gooeyness. It was too late in the evening by that time though and he didn't feel like starting a project like that at this late hour. "I'll make some tomorrow" he thought. He then put out Penny, the Maine Coon cat; turned off the Victrola, now playing Springsteen; left a note for the milkman to leave extra cheddar cheese and went to sleep.
Next morning started and he absolutely knew something was different.
To be continued next week... Chapter 2: Quito the Astro-Pup
*Languages which Quito was fluent in: English; Spanish; Arabic; French; Russian; Chinese.
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