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Prelude

Nathaniel Hawthorne once very seriously said in a letter he wrote to a friend -

“I went down to the train station today and the Devil himself was there.”

And then 120  years or so later the late Reverend Billy Graham,  referring to this very same letter,  said to the people who had gathered to hear him speak - 

"And if you are a true Christian  -  then you know  EXACTLY  what he was talking about!"

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A house for the summer!

Summer, 1980

Mission Hills, San Diego, CA

Being able to rent a fully furnished turn of the century house just up the hill from  Old Town  San Diego  for the whole summer was like manna from heaven.  There was a notice pinned to one of the academic building's  bulletin boards advertising just such an opportunity and from there everything just  'clicked'.  And really fast.

Some professor was the owner and he had to  'summer'  elsewhere for academic reasons and the family would have to go too.  And being only a bus ride from the  La Jolla  UCSD  campus it was perfect.  Which shouldn't have been surprising because so was everything else  -  the campus,  the city,  the beaches,  the trees,  the surf,  the sunsets,  and the weather!

THE  SAN  DIEGO  WEATHER!

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Kiko!

One of the owners neighborly friends would manage the renting details.  A very nice lady she would show me the house and then introduce me to 'Kiko',  the dog.

“He comes with it"  she said.  “But he's great!  Don't worry.”

And he was.  Brown and tawny and curly haired he was always  'happy'  and he was the exact shape and look of a scotch terrier but of a larger dog's size.  I don't know what they're called.

“Don't let him out of the garage without chaining him up first though"  she said,  “or he WILL take off!  Do not open the garage door first, even for a split second!”

“OK I won't"  I said,  “Don't worry.”

Besides,  I thought, how far,  if I screwed up,  could he possibly go?

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Nice backyard!

The garage opened onto the back yard which was only fenced in on the sides.  At the far end was a small utility shed which bordered the alley and on one of it's sides was a path where the home's three garbage cans mingled with some waist high bushes.  An elevated deck attached to the house held the high ground which overlooked not only the yard but provided a view of the top of downtown as well and, most excitedly,  the air corridors going in and out of Lindbergh field.  At night it was quite a show.

MISSION  HILLS  WAS  THE  PLACE !

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First warning!

But then just three days after arriving the phone rang.

“Hello is this the residence on Sheridan Ave in San Diego?  Is this the owner?”

Who could be calling the house phone at this hour,  I thought.  I knew it wasn't for me  -  I had just moved in.

“Hi, yes it is, but no I'm just renting.  Why what's up?”

“Do you have a dog named 'Kiko'?"  they asked.

“Yes,  how did you know?”

“We have him,"  the person said.  “His name,  number and address are on his collar.”

“Oh jeez, he must have taken off again,”  I said to myself,  while wondering how the hell - but I was warned about this.  So I said "where are you?”

“Tijuana!”

This would,  unfortunately,  continue to happen on a weekly basis.  And Tijuana was a good twenty miles!  But for some reason he just loved the place.   And he was uncanny;  a split second of a mistake while attaching his collar to his chain and he was off on another three day'er.  And it always seemed to be about three days before I'd get the next call.

Fortunately they were always nice enough to drive him home.

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Second warning!

But one day the  'neighborly lady friend'  was in the house when the phone rang.  And  SHE  answered it!

I was caught!  She now knew everything.  I was politely told that I would have to talk to her husband that evening about this ongoing  'problem'.

… LATER  THAT  EVENING ...

He, the husband, never even got out of his lounge chair.  He never even turned around to look at me  (there was a game on!)  He just chewed me out from his lair as I stood there in their foyer.  And I mean he really  'chewed'  me out.

“Jesu … for Chris … are you going to keep an eye on that goddammed dog or aren't you … “   etc. etc.

She then threw me a mischievous grin amid the tirade as if to say -

”Oh,  and did I forget to mention …'

We both quietly chuckled,  but very discreetly of course.  He was good.  And he could still watch the game at the same time!  I think a fireman.  And really big  (I felt bad for the chair).  So I very astutely promised that it would of course never ever ever happen again.

It dawned on me,  as I was walking back to the house,  that there were as many parallel universe's in the universe as there were people.  This guy just proved it!  Those scientists were wrong ...

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Don't smoke pot!

So anyway three days later I went out to take the trash out.  The morning was bright and sunny.  But then again they always were.  It was San Diego.  Blue skies,  golden sands,  green trees,  red rocks,  and flowers.  And Sea World,  just in case you got bored.

I grabbed the plastic sacks of kitchen trash and made my way out the back door,  across the redwood deck planking and down it's stairs.  As I made my way across the back yard towards the garbage cans in the far corner I'm sure that I had been lost in thought about something.  But I don't remember what.

Probably tomatoes  -  a young hot blonde barefoot neighbor in a bikini stopped by the day before with a big bowl of cherry tomatoes and said -

”Hi,  I noticed you were  NEW  in the neighborhood so I picked these just for you.”

And I said  “Oh wow thanks," 

but then for some unknown reason after accepting the tomatoes I very politely just slammed the door in her face!

Don't smoke pot.

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My first clue!

I entered the narrow path and upon opening the first can I realized that it was already full and moved on.  While holding the lid of the next can up in the air something told me that something was up.  I looked out into the alley to my right.  And what I then saw I at first found amusing …

“That crazy dog!"   I said to myself,  “how did he get out again?”

There stood a dog.  Facing me.  Not six feet away.  A full sized scotch terrier look alike with brown tawny curly hair.  Sound familiar?

“Kiko?"  I said out loud.

I then froze!

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The problem was - this was not a dog!

Before I had even finished speaking I had already figured it out.

It's head lowered,  it was just looking up at me with it's so-called  –  'eyes'.  But not directly.  The problem was,  these were not the eyes of a dog.  Stray or otherwise.  Not by a long shot!

Human?  Maybe.  One trapped in hell?  If I had to guess ... but I didn't know.

But not a dog's!

Large, elliptical, dark reddish brown and sanguine and bloody and yet also somehow clear all at the same time.

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You aren't Kiko are you?

I waited a few seconds and then in a very matter of fact and wary voice I said  ...

“You aren't Kiko are you?”

There was absolutely no doubt in my mind,  at this point,  none whatsoever,  that he   (I just knew now that it was a 'he')  understood every word that I had just said.  Every word.  He couldn't hide it,  so he didn't even try.

I had acquired a look of my own by now  –  that of a deer caught in the headlights.  Like I said,  I froze.

It's eyes never met mine directly.  But they came frighteningly close.  It seemed to me that it was because he had lacked the necessary  'permission'  to do so.  But whose?

Time had now stopped.  He  –  the 'dog'  -  remained still with his head angled slightly downward,  but with it's eyes leery and up and their gaze indirectly upon me,  full of ungodly stuff of all kinds.  And in the midst of all of this,  strangely enough,  it was also unabashedly embarrassed and ashamed.  But about what?

We both remained keenly engrossed,  and tactically attentive,  and startled,  by each others sudden appearance.  Quaking and dirty and matted and with pride seemingly absent,  it was old and cursed looking.  Or so it wanted me to think.

I  DIDN'T  BUY  IT.

This was only a ruse.  But for the  'Permission to loook directly'  thing who knows what it was capable of.   And with just a 'look!  There was a palpable  'SNAKE IN THE GRASS'  apprehension that was surreptitiously permeating the entire deathly quiet affair.  Right from the get go.  The deadly kind.  The very deadly kind. 

  I needed an exit.  I had seen enough.  But before turning and leaving one more observation came unhesitatingly out of me which seemed to speak in a voice all of it's own accord;  lower,  quieter,  and much more serious than before.

“No, you are not Kiko!”

I left.

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And no it wasn't!

Your guess is as good as mine.