Page Two Hundred Sixty-One.
Quito barked: "I've been feeling that I've been letting my powers go to waste. I think I should be doing more to help others, but I'm not sure how, or where. I think I was given my powers for a reason, and I want you to help me."
Wanda looked at him quizzically yet harshly simultaneously and said, "What are you? An idiot? How can I help you?"
"First of all, no, I'm not an idiot and don't you ever call me or anybody else that ever again. It's extremely mean and unkind. And second of all, I'm not sure exactly how you can help. But I need to start aiding others more and you need to start aiding anybody who's not you. So I want you to be my cohort when I'm on a mission. This'll be a perfect match. We'll be a team like Batman and Robin, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, John Lennon and Paul McCartney or Hillary and Bill Clinton. You and I are going to be a canine Super-Team. How cool will that be?"
Then Wanda began crying. Little, crystal-colored tears fell down her long, brown, regal, collie snout. This surprised Quito since he wasn't used to seeing villains cry. But he also knew why. She was so moved by his kindness, that her emotions were getting the best of her. He knew that she was so scared of her own feelings that she couldn't just graciously say "thank you". She'd spent so much energy and time over the years building up an emotional wall around herself that it was now as tall as the stately, beige, sandstone Terminal Tower and as wide as the maze-like, murky Cuyahoga River.
Quito understood that some cats, dogs, tarantulas, porcupines and people feel so hurt by life events that they build up a protective barrier between themselves and others. They build this barrier, or wall, to keep themselves from getting hurt even more. They don't let anybody get too close. They don't tell people the truth about their own feelings. They don't trust anybody enough to tell hem when or why they're upset. Wanda was one of these dogs. She couldn't understand why Quito was being so nice to her. She rarely understand simple kindness because she'd seen so little of it in her life. So she started crying. But then she straightened up fast and got mean again.
"Okay. Fine I'll help you do whatever you need. But don't expect me to be happy about it."
Quito was perfectly unfazed by the idea of having a sidekick with an attitude problem. In fact, he thought it might add some entertainment and flavor to his missions (whatever his missions might end up being).
But first things first... he wanted to get home and eat. (He had a real taste for Chicken Marsala.) And... speaking of which, where was he anyhow? And why did this hideout smell like lemon cleaner? And why was that odor so familiar?
Continued next week... Chapter 16. Getting Home.
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