Agnes and the German Shepherd

Agnes woke early. Earl was out of bed, starting the day. She couldn’t be bothered to know where he was. He could be tinkering with a car that no longer needed tinkering or shoveling one pile of dirt from one end of the back yard to the other. Agnes didn’t care what Earl did, as long as he wasn’t following her around. If he wasn’t re-organizing a wall of tools, back into its original order, he paced around her confused and asking what time was lunch, long before lunch. 

Agnes used the washroom, rising gradually, cursing her body to filth for slowing her down. As she washed her hands she tsked herself in the mirror, shaking her head with the disappointment of her age. 

Agnes followed through with her typical routine. Tuesday outfit because today was Tuesday. Her make up matched the auburn tones. Solid pants with a floral patterned blouse. She blow dried her hair, though it was a coloured a dark red, no one could tell. She poofed it with her hands, stepping back from her reflection to confirm her look. 

She walked down the hall and entered the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. Her surroundings always brought her pride. Every aspect of the house was picked perfectly. Earl had snatched up multiple houses on the street long ago and the rental income had kept increasing. Agnes had a lifetime of cloth swatches and paint samples spread throughout her house, until it reached her ideal standards. Auburns, golds, and browns flooded her home and nothing was ever rearranged. If a lamp was moved an inch, she moved it back. 

Earl came in through the side door, rubbing a wrench with a cloth. 

“Look who decided to join the land of the living!”

Every morning he greeted her exactly the same. She kept her back to him, pouring her coffee, rolling her eyes. 

“Just tinkering with the car here now,” he said with his head angled toward the wrench, still cleaning it with the rag. He held it up to the light to see if it shined. 

“Earl, we need to do something about that dog.”

Five years ago Earl and Agnes bought a German Shepherd. She can’t recall what brought them to such a decision. A huge beast who shedded tumbleweeds of fur that found its way into corners of all of her rooms. The animal was barely manageable for either Agnes or Earl. They had no plan for this dog, when he arrived or now. The only effort Agnes made was heading to the pet store to buy the biggest bed she could find and set it up in the front window seat. The dog found his way there eventually, twirled and lay down in the sun to sleep. His horse shaped head perked up whenever anyone walked by the window, knocking him out of his nap, and he let out a repetitive bellowing bark. 

Every time the dog yelled at a passerby, it shocked Agnes. She jumped as if it was the first time. She would drop a spoon and yell out to her husband, “Earl, the dog, for Christ sakes.”

Earl was unphased by the dog. When he arrived home from a grocery run, and the German Shepherd lifted his head to yap at his owner, Earl wasn’t surprised. 

Agnes stayed on Earl for months, telling him he had to fix it. 

“He’s a dog Agnes. That’s what they do. You wanted a dog, dogs bark.”

No matter what Agnes did, the dog wouldn’t listen to her pleas. She started to resent her neighbours who carelessly walked by her window. How dare they make her jump from her cross stitch and have her lose her spot.

That Auburn Tuesday Agnes had enough and she decided to confront passerbys. A younger couple were not only walking their small pooch in front of her window, German Shepherd howling, they seemed to hang around, allowing their dog to smell a street sign for much too long. 

She opened her front door and eyed them, volumizing her grand dog’s ballad. The couple never looked up, both looking at one another and then to their dog, but the German Shepherd’s barks never startled them. For the first time in her memory, Agnes actually wanted her dog to howl louder, she bid the animal with her mind but he remained at a steady volume.

Finally the man looked up, more towards the sun rather than Agnes, but she took the bait. 

“Excuse me. Excuse me.” Agnes was waving frantically now. 

The man nodded towards her. “Are you ok?”

“Yes yes.” Agnes blew her hair out of her face with her bottom lip. 

“It’s just when you come by, my dog see, he yelps. I don’t know what to do. He is mad at anyone that walks by.”

“Awe I see,” said the man. 

The woman looked up at Agnes, her mittened hand shielding the sun from her eyes. 

“He’s a beautiful dog.”

The couple waved to Agnes and kept walking, the German Shepherd circled and settled down, nuzzling his nose into its hind legs. 

Wednesday came, Agnes rose habitually, Wednesday outfit of maroon, toast and coffee. She was hopeful, she had a plan for her dog. She would simply express her predicament to anyone passing her front window and then eventually everyone in the neighbourhood wouldn’t walk on her street. 

When she heard the boy raise his head and start his hollering, she walked to the front door. She took a glance in the mirror and straightened herself up, she called out, “Excuse me,” without looking to see who was the cause of the dog’s commotion. 

To Agnes’ surprise, it was the same couple as yesterday. She had already told them about her struggles and they continued to take the same path and cause her such agony. 

The couple didn’t look up, they were facing one another laughing, while their dog rolled around on the grass in front of them. The man was nodding now to his wife, his arms held out explaining something. 

Agnes was dumbfounded but soon she turned mad. She crossed her arms and stared at the couple, shaking her head. 

The two of them eventually heard the dog’s beg for attention and looked at Agnes. A smile covered both their faces and they waved. Then whistled at their own dog and walked on. 

The same incident happened day after day. Burgundy Thursday, Navy Blue Friday, Cream Saturday. The same couple walked by again and again like clockwork. Agnes would open her front door, her dog’s bark increasing, arms crossed, head shaking and they’d waved. 

On Rose Sunday Agnes marched into the garage, Earl shining tools that have never been used. 

“Earl, this is getting out of hand. This couple keeps purposely passing by the dog and teasing him, then they wave to me, completely nuts, Earl. It’s malicious. They are aware of how much we struggle and they wave, laughing at us. Unbelievable!”

Earl straightened his tools out and laid them flat. 

“How do they know about our dog?”

“Earl! They wave and smile. Can you believe it?”

“How do they know?”

“I told them Earl, days ago! Maybe even weeks. They have the whole damn world to walk in and they keep coming here. On purpose.”

“Why would they come on purpose?”

“Oh Earl, forget it! If you’re not going to do anything about it then forget it.”

Every day, the couple with their dog. They waved and Agnes never waved back. Just stared, shaking her head. She stood in the doorway longer and longer each day, her gaze following them. 

Eventually the couple stopped waving, preoccupied with their own dog or their conversation. 

“Earl. Now they are ignoring me. Can you imagine? The audacity. I think I need to contact our city counselor.”

“Jesus Agnes you can’t write to the counselor, what are you going to say?”

“That these two crazy people are antagonizing our dog, they’re antagonizing me.”

Earl was circling his car, spitting on a rag and dabbing out nothing every once and awhile. 

“You’re useless,” she stomped away. 

Agnes’ routine was interrupted every day, she prepped and prepared for the couple to pass her window. She found herself standing in the doorway waiting. She was so preoccupied, she forgot Earl was behind her half the time wondering what was for supper. 

“Not now Earl, I haven’t time to think about supper. I am under attack.”

She walked around him huffing at his questions. She stood in the doorway, stirring her coffee, settled in and posed like a sniper. 

She was startled out of her trance when she heard the dog’s shuffling, his big head clunked against the glass, readying himself to bark. 

Agnes put her hand on the door, ready to open it. She saw the man’s head in the door’s window and she swung the door open. He didn’t have his partner with him today. Just his own unbarking dog. She went back to stirring her coffee, daring him to look up.

The man was looking down at his dog,  the pup was busy sniffing a patch of grass. The man breathed in and looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked around until he locked eyes with Agnes. His eyes widened, and he nodded to her, as if he had been waiting to speak with her. 

“Well my dog is still barking and you’re still walking by here,” Agnes said with a shaky voice. A nervousness ran up her body. 

“Awe I see that, or should I say I hear that. He needs to walk,” the man nodded to the dog. 

“You should look at taking a different route.”

“What? Ma’am, can you hear me, your dog needs to walk. Every day. He’s bored.”

Agnes shook her head, rejecting his words. She tried to open her mouth but words didn’t come out. 

“You need to walk him Ma’am, he needs something to do,” shouted the man to her, thinking she couldn’t hear. 

Agnes stood shaking her head and closed the door. The man walked away. 

Going forward Agnes continued to run to the doorway to see the man and his wife walking their dog. They never looked up to acknowledge her. Beige Mondays, Auburn Tuesdays, Maroon Wednesdays, Burgundy Thursdays, Navy Blue Fridays, Cream Saturdays, Rose Sundays. She galloped to the door at the sound of footsteps, a Pavlovian response, stirring and shaking her head.