Carmen Dog (16 page)

Rosemary ties an apron around the doctor's waist and sets to cooking the kibble and sunflower-seed pancakes while she gets out carrots, celery, tea, and cream, along with mealworms and chocolate-covered ants. Clearly the meal is to be a special treat.

In spite of trying hard not to enjoy himself; the doctor has not had so much fun in a long time. He remembers when, at around the age of eleven, he could flip pancakes by throwing them up with the pan. In a moment of youthful exuberance he tries this, though not successfully. Rosemary neither scolds nor laughs, but wipes up the mess, as deadpan as ever. You'd almost think her big white-with-black-markings face was another mask and that all her silvery glitter was another costume under which was yet one more Rosemary, and then below that another, each one miraculously larger than the one before and each face even less expressive.

She has set the table in the main dining room with the Rosenthal china and the Gorham flatware, and when the police deliver the basement inmates they are invited into the front dining room instead of being ushered down to their cages. It is the doctor, still in his pajamas and slippers and wearing the large, flowered apron, who serves them and sees to it that their plates and cups are never empty.

In this setting the natural elegance of all the creatures becomes clear. Phillip's especially. One cannot deny that her colors are a bit on the garish side to be considered truly refined, but one cannot help appreciating her sinewy grace, her proud head and smile (though perhaps that constant little upward curl to the lips should not be called a smile at all). It is she who, automatically, sits at the head of the table and keeps an eye out to see that everyone is eating. It is clear that she is the one who masterminded the escape effort and that she will take advantage of any other opportunity that may come her way, though now that Rosemary—and a completely new Rosemary, at that—seems to be in charge even of the doctor, Phillip is obviously confused.

The doctor wonders if he should warn Rosemary about Phillip. Yet he hesitates to do so. He can see the same alert, wary look on the faces of both of them, and he wonders if they are in this together, even though it is apparent that Phillip, like the others, has never seen this particular Rosemary before, or rather, this particular aspect of her. It is also clear that they are all, Phillip included, both shocked and pleased to have found such a powerful ally. But that was exactly how the doctor himself had felt on first seeing her. He knows he should be doubly wary, since it seems that all creatures who come under Rosemary's spell feel that they are home at last. (A good characteristic for the Maximum Mother. The doctor is wondering again if he should urge her to try out for it, though he knows this is motherhood at its most dangerous.)

As they eat they do not speak. Perhaps they are inhibited by the presence of the doctor and by this strange, imposing Rosemary, and of course by the elegant setting—the almost see-through tea cups, the water in cut-glass wine glasses—but all their natural animal refinement comes to the fore and the doctor is not at all bothered by a nervous flutter or flap or any inadvertent squeaks. He is as pleased with them as though he had trained them himself for just this occasion and now finds them using the right fork at the right time, which they do. Even tired as they are, only one cup of tea is spilled and only a few mealworms slither away.

Almost without forethought, at the end of the meal the doctor brings out brandy snifters and his vsop and proposes a toast. It's Rosemary he toasts, as seems only fitting—also expedient under the circumstances—but it is to Phillip that he raises his glass and his eyes. Rosemary has gone beyond him and, though splendid, is in fact on the way down and one must not forget it, while Phillip.... But of all of them in the basement, Phillip has never been impressed by
him
. On the contrary (and that may be one of her appeals). She has never been girlishly giddy, nor has she ever lost sight, as far as he could tell, of just exactly what the situation in the basement was. Also he must admit he has not treated her very well, though of course that was for the sake of scientific enquiry. He hopes she understands that. And that time when she said what a privilege it was and what a joy to be becoming human. He had not listened. He had not believed. And here she is, fierce joy apparent in every motion, and looking more human and more gorgeous than ever even though her blue smock does not bring out her natural coloring at all. In fact clashes with it. Here she is, modeling proper fork use to the others, though she does it almost as a putdown of proper manners—almost as a challenge. She's a combination the doctor cannot resist. It promises so much in the way of both knowledge and surprises.

Perhaps even joy, and it's been a long time since the doctor thought about anything even remotely connected with joy.

Shortly after the toast they all go off to their cages to sleep for the few hours that remain of the night. All but the doctor, that is. Try as he will, he cannot go back to sleep. He is wondering, where does the truth lie, with motherhood and the Academy? Or with these forces of the animal? He wonders if there is any hope for him to have a future with Phillip
without
changing his allegiances ... have a future with
any
female? Yet doesn't he owe his very existence to motherhood? Shouldn't he therefore remain loyal to the Academy? But where does Rosemary stand in all this? Hard to tell. And which side will win in the long run? Not that that should influence his choice. Should he try to stop them now though they are doing exactly what he would have told them to do if they had asked his advice? How logical Rosemary is! Most of them are all id. Phillip especially. No, that's not true. She's both. Is that best? Has he been misled by logic? Is it logical to be so logical? Perhaps he should go with his feelings. For Phillip. Now
she's
one who knows how to use the butter knife for the butter and a fork for the mealworms.

In the morning the doctor will try to convince Rosemary that Phillip should be left behind with him and not turned in to the Academy of Motherhood with the others. He can't bear the thought of her being inseminated with some lesser scientist's child. But Rosemary will insist with an adamant shake of her head, showing, in the first smile that he will have seen from her for a long time, her big teeth. They're enough to frighten even taller men. ("But surely I'm entitled to.... “"Not yet,” she will say.)

Before Rosemary goes to bed she pushes a message over the top of the barricaded attic door in which she explains the situation. She advises everyone to be dressed and ready for an early start the next morning and to have a big breakfast just in case, for one never knows, these days, if things will go as planned. She says that a bus is to be rented and that all of them, from the attic and basement alike, are to go off obediently to the Academy. It should be, she writes, pleasant for them to meet each other and for Basenji and Mary Ann to see their companions from the cages below again. And they should not worry; the time for action will come later. And would they please bring down with them all the Rosemary masks and dresses that are left in the attic as well as the several police uniforms they have rented.

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The universe is truly in love with its task of fashioning whatever is next to be....

—Marcus Aurelius

It is all very well to donate a group of females to the Academy of Motherhood, and one can only be commended for it, but if one of these creatures is wanted by the police as violent and dangerous, and another is under suspicion for intent to overthrow the civilized world, that is another story entirely. So what comes about is not quite what was expected.

The first part goes smoothly. John, now dressed as a clown, is, as they had hoped, considered by those at the Academy to be rapidly on his way to becoming a vulture, and therefore female. He is accepted without question, though of course John has
always
looked like a vulture; even as a child he had a long thin nose and glinting black eyes. He does not try to disillusion the Academy of Motherhood people, but deliberately walks with a jerky, avian motion. Also he has painted a vapid smile on his clown-face, knowing that if they feel superior to him they will be inclined to make snap judgments and not give him a second thought.

So it is that John is accepted along with the others, while Pooch/Isabel (complete with baby), and Rosemary (in the guise of her little-old-lady former self), and even the doctor (for harboring the other two) are, unfortunately, all three arrested and turned over to the police, along with all the Rosemary masks and dresses and police suits. One can understand this as far as Rosemary and Pooch are concerned, but the doctor? Perhaps the real reason for his arrest is that the members of the Academy do not want rivals off in their little corners making discoveries about motherhood on their own and so have turned him in to keep him from his research.

The Academy is happy to have a whole new set of creatures to experiment on, especially since one group of them has (except for the few hours running around town) already been kept isolated in an environment almost as sterile as their own. Here on the top floors, conditions are much as they were in the doctor's basement, except that they have the roof garden where they can sun themselves. This roof garden is scientific and has not been put there simply for the enjoyment of the mothers. It's well known that mothers-to-be and babies need plenty of vitamin d, so the roof has been made as pleasant as it possibly could be. Besides plants and potted trees, it contains a playground for the expected children with swings, slides, monkey bars, sandboxes, and mazes. The mothers-to-be have made good use of the playground themselves, and at no time, day or night, is it ever empty. The members of the Academy joke that the future mothers are trying to get their vitamin d by moonlight, but also feel that their suspicions of the degeneration of
all
females, whether on the way up or down, is confirmed by this behavior, for all the mothers indulge in it.

All those creatures that have been kept relatively germfree in the doctor's basement are scheduled for artificial insemination the day after tomorrow. The Academy uses only the best genes in the nation, those belonging to governors, generals (three star or above), atomic scientists, as well as those of the directors of nuclear reactors, presidents of the largest corporations, oil magnates, and so forth. The men picked are splendid, tall, and for the most part blonde. All earning well over $100,000 a year, not counting perks. Of course it has taken time for these men to achieve status in their fields, so most of them are by now paunchy and bald. (Since the imagination is suspect particularly at present, artists' and poets' genes are not used. Besides, it is hard to tell where artists come from. Some have dreadfully wizened little parents.)

Meanwhile, at the police station, there's a policeman who looks rather like a walrus, complete with mustache and honking voice. Another has arms like an ape and holds them as though waiting to grab somebody for some misdeed or other. One that looks like a giraffe, gun on heavy hip bone, is standing by the door. (It's always been this way, even before the women began their changes.) These three are questioning Pooch. Having seen that the doctor is alive and well except for a few scratches about the face and a small bandage on his neck, she is still dumbfounded at the good news that she is not a killer. She repeats over and over to herself, “I am not a dangerous animal,” even though she knows that when she first came in she was booked as such.

In the next room she can hear the baby crying vigorously, in an absolute rage. Its crying is interspersed with growls and howls and fits of barking, mixed in with its small repertoire of words. Pooch thinks she hears several new ones, even two-word combinations like “bad man” and “go home” and “where's ma,” plus one or two phrases quite unmentionable.

Now the policemen bring out a partially chewed old dog collar. She recognizes it instantly. It's in terrible shape and has an alien smell that she dislikes, which causes her to flinch away from it at first. Even so, they strap it around her neck, and in a strange way, having it there again is a wonderful relief. At least she now knows where she really lives and who she belongs to, and everyone else will know it too, at a glance. She feels almost as though she had slipped on a wedding ring. Perhaps she can relax now and let things take their course, and surely ... surely
now
her master will come. What a joy it will be to see him again! At that thought she can hardly contain herself, and continuously wiggles about in the chair making little whining noises so that, what with the baby yelling, growling, and shouting obscenities in the next room and the doctor alive and well, it is impossible for Pooch to take in their questions. “Did you or did you not...?” and so forth. She is nodding yes to everything.

And now they are reading off a long list of stolen articles: blue smock, golden key, sandals, heavy cream, smoked oysters, sprouts and nuts, jewelry, fruit, filet mignon, dog biscuits, balloon, pen, baby, scarves, paint rags, and, to top it all off, one pedigreed animal valued at over $600, registered with akc as: Setter bitch. Show name: Astor's Empress Golden Eyes. Sire: Teasdale's Prince Tyrone. Dam: Astor's Empress Silver Fleece.

Who in the world is that? Pooch wonders. Golden Eyes!

They go on. “Said Golden Eyes, aka Isabel, aka Pooch."

Why, it's herself! She has stolen herself away, and worth over $600!

"...irresponsible, dragging child through the gutter with no thought to its future ... scantily dressed and up in a tree ... subversive meeting, howling in the park.... “(As though she were the only one to blame for that!)

But $600! One could buy a decent car for that. Or a diamond. Pooch is stunned into stillness for a moment, but then the joy of being worth so much is added to the joy of being about to see her master. And now there is the joy of being able to give him back, not only his baby, but $600 worth of herself. Two valuable gifts indeed. But will he think she bit the baby? Why, of course not, for by now there's only a tiny scar. She herself has a hard time finding the place.