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Other Writings
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           Not An Urban Legend
           "Hey! Grandma! Have I got a story for you!" My twenty-one-year-old granddaughter's breathy, excited voice on the telephone interrupted a late dinner.

           "Just a minute," replied. Picking up my half-full wine glass, I set it down on an end table next to my favorite easy chair, in my small garden apartment in Berkeley. Then, arranging my feet on an ottoman, I turned the volume up on the telephone, and said, "Okay, go ahead. I'm ready."

           She continued, "Well. . ." (Ade usually started a story with that word); "I just got here, to New York, to visit Melissa. Remember her? You know, my friend from high school who's attending Columbia? It's Spring Break." She paused.

           I tried to remember Melissa. I conjured up a picture of a skinny girl with unruly brown hair that she was continually brushing out of her eyes. "The girl who's majoring in Drama at Columbia?"

           "Yeah, that's her. Well, she works as a dog sitter to make extra cash, and she just told me the most outrageous story. Are you ready?"

           "Yes, I'm ready. Go ahead."

           "Well, Melissa has been taking care of a big, hairy Briard named Horace for a couple who live on Houston Street in the Village, and she really loved that dog. Not only did she feed him, she brushed him and walked him, and swore that they had conversations." She paused, and then went on hurriedly. "Well, Cindy and Paul, the dog's owners went away for the week, and Melissa went over to the apartment to take care of Horace. She has a key to the apartment, and when she opened the door, she had a feeling something was wrong."

           "Where's Melissa now?" I asked.

           "She's taking a hot bath. She's wiped out. I decided to tell you the story myself. So, anyway, when Melissa went into the kitchen, she saw Horace all spread out, foam around his mouth. He wasn't just asleep. He was dead!" Her voice rose dramatically. "So of course, Melissa immediately called Cindy at their place in the Hamptons, and asked her what to do. Cindy was pretty calm; said that Horace was an old dog, that she was sorry Horace died on Melissa's watch, but that the thing to do was to call the vet. Then Cindy said they'd be back in a few days, and not to worry."

           "That's all she said? To call the vet?"

           "Yep. So that's what Melissa did. She called the vet, and the vet told her to bring the dog to a special place across town where they took care of dead dogs. But the problem was that Melissa didn't have a car, and she didn't have enough money for a cab, so she had to figure out a way to get the dog to this place by subway. Horace was a pretty big dog; he weighed almost as much as Melissa; so she had to find something to put him in. She rummaged around the apartment and found an old duffle bag, and stuffed Horace into it. Well, it's pretty hot for New York in April, and by the time Melissa got Horace into the bag and hauled it down to the lobby, she was already sweating. The doorman wasn't around, so Melissa got the duffle bag onto her shoulder and staggered down to the subway station around the corner."

           "Just a minute," I said. I refilled my wine glass, and settled back down. "Go ahead."

           "Okay; now here's the best part. She gets to the top of the stairs leading down to the platform and there's a guy standing there who looks like someone in one of her classes. He asks if he can help her, so of course she says "Yes!" He lifts the bag to his shoulder and they go down to the platform together. He asks her where she's going, and when she gives him the subway stop, he says he can go there too. So they get on the car together. Then he asks her what's in that duffle bag; it's so heavy. Well, how can she tell him it's a dead dog? So she dreams up a story about moving across town and this is stuff she didn't want to trust the movers with. . . her laptop and other special computer equipment." Ade pauses dramatically. "Guess what happens next? At the very next stop, the guy picks up the duffle, jumps out of the car and runs up the steps to the street! Melissa jumps up, reaches out after him, yells, "Hey! Wait!" and then when she realizes the guy has solved her problem for her, she sits down."

           By this time, I'm hanging on Ade's every word. "Then what happened?"

           "Well, one of the passengers leaned over and patted Melissa's knee, and told her not to worry, she could get off at the next stop and notify the police." Ade laughed. "So Melissa did get off at the next stop and she crossed over to the opposite platform to take the next car back home. She couldn't help laughing when she thought about that guy's face when he opened the duffle bag. Isn't that a kick?"

           "That's really a kick. And the moral is, be careful what you steal!" I chuckled as I hung up the phone.




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