He sat peacefully on top of a bookshelf in my study for two years, ever since he arrived with the book
Dear Mrs. La Rue: Letters From Obedience School.
He was cushy and clean, quiet and innocent. Above all, unmarked. Until the evening when Miro noticed him and, when I wasn't looking, stole him from his perch. It's well known that Airedales, when no one is looking, can magically elongate their bodies to reach unexpected heights or turn into wisps of smoke to escape through the mesh of a crate door, leaving the door closed and latched.
Although the ransom demand was for one large biscuit, the criminal received nothing but a scolding. By the time I rescued Ike, he was disfigured for life, his nose gone (top photo), his beard in slobbery clumps, his head torn open with the brains showing if he had brains (right). While I wept over the ruin of Ike, the criminal shrugged off the entire incident (below).
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| Planning his next robbery. |
Miro believes crime pays, even if briefly.
