The Verse:
Silence in the bath
The dobergator’s escaped.
The Vision:
There’s a dobergator in my bathtub. For some reason (probably that I’m blissed out on amrita) this doesn’t bother me.
Commentary by Archbishop Co’oal Venesti:
At times, it is refreshing to see that our deity has such a broad sense of humor.
Commentary by Elma, High Prophetess of Skarsia:
I’ve had visions like this, usually after I’ve eaten foods high in fat content. I think I’ll have Elma’ashra tweak my digestion.
Commentary by Archbishop Seth:
This is totally Manasseh’s fault. I had nothing to do with it.
Commentary by Prince Manasseh:
Oh, I’m supposed to tell the story? Well, I guess I can do it. I did it once before, and now I’ve seen a lot of other branches do it, too.
So I was with Tara on Dolparessa. Actually, it was my first time on Dolparessa. It’s really nice there, even nicer than Eden. Eden is just kind of bland.
Thanks, says Davy. It’s still a WIP. How long do you think it takes to invent enough species to have a decent ecosphere?
It’s not your fault. I think it’s kind of Ailann’s, actually. It’s so flat. No mountains or anything.
It was a rush job, says Ailann. I was a little more concerned about the terrorists that had taken over Eirelantra at the time.
Couldn’t you go back and fix it, like Davy’s doing? Maybe add a fjord or two?
NO, says Owen. You don’t mess around with the geophysics of a planet with a sentient species already on it.
Manasseh, says Mickey calmly, I’m just going to prod a little when this starts going off track, ok?
Oh, right. Well, it was my first time on Dolparessa. We were on the beach, and I saw something so weird. A woman with a doggie on a string. “Hey, Tara,” I said. “Look at that. That isn’t right.”
“No it isn’t,” said Tara. “Dogs aren’t allowed on the beach. Nobody wants to step in a submerged pile of dog crap.”
“I meant that she’s got it tied up like that. Why isn’t it running free?”
“She wants to keep her dog from crapping on the beach, presumably. Or running into the water and getting sucked out to sea.”
“Her dog,” I said. “Like Goliath is your tree?”
“Not really,” said Tara, handing me a bottle. “Please participate in the archaic and mostly ineffectual process of applying a liquid sunscreen to my back.”
“I don’t understand.” But then my hands were covered with slippery goo, and I was smearing it on Tara’s smooth skin, and then we thought it might be a better idea to go to our private beach.
*****
I thought of it again at dinner. “So what was with the dog?” I asked.
“The dog? Oh, you’re still on that? It was just a pet.”
A pet. I knew what the word meant. But the more I thought about it, the more the concept didn’t make sense. “Why do humans want pets?”
“I don’t know. They just do. I have my own pony, after all, although I haven’t checked on El Mooney since that time I went to Sideria with Hurley. I always wanted to bring him here, but it just wasn’t a good idea. With Court Emmere built on a hillside, and so close to the blue zone, there’s no place to put a stable. And it’s hard to move adult animals between planets. The different cycles of seasons and lengths of day seem to hit them harder than humans.”
“I can see why you might want a pony, though. It can be a useful means of transportation in certain terrain. But what good is a dog?”
“Maybe we just like the companionship of another species? Surely, you can relate to that.”
I had to think about that a little. “But humans are smart and fun.”
“The average dog is smarter than my ex-husband.”
I had to think about that a little, too. “Tenzain Merkht is just an asshole. Most humans are better than dogs.”
“I have my doubts.”
“But you don’t have a dog.”
“I have Callum.”
“Wait, what?” And everybody was laughing at me again, so I just finished my chocumber torte.
*****
But the next morning, I could see that woman coming down the beach again. “Damn it,” said Tara, “if she comes onto the private area, I’m going to have SSOps arrest and interrogate her.” Tara looked thoughtful. “Maybe she’s looking for Gurov.”
“Doesn’t the dog mind being on a string like that?”
“It’s a leash. And no. Well…maybe. Sometimes dogs try to slip their leashes. I suppose it depends on how well-trained the dog is, and how much they like their masters.”
“If the dog liked the leash, then why would it need one? I mean, Callum doesn’t need a leash.”
But Callum would really really really like a leash, said Lorcan.
“Huh,” said Tara. “I guess the leash isn’t the point. It’s more to assure everyone else that the dog is under control. Like if you had a baby with you, you wouldn’t want to worry that the dog might bite it.”
“Why would a dog bite a baby? Is it hungry?”
“No, that one looks a little chunky. I bet it’s getting sucksow sausage under the table. Most dogs wouldn’t bite a baby, unless they were a little unbalanced – attack dogs or something.”
“Attack dogs?”
“Yes, people who don’t have Cillian sometimes keep dogs for protection.”
“Companionship, protection…so you’re basically saying a dog is sort of a Cu’enashti substitute?”
“Well, not in every way,” she said, unzipping my trousers.
*****
Later that day, Tara had to go to meet with some designers from “Slower!” It was a weird name for a company, and I said so.
“Fashion conglomerates always have strange names,” Tara told me. “This is one of my favorites, and I’m getting first dibs on this year’s Nau’gshtide line.”
Yeah, it’s a racket, says Driscoll. The clothes are chipped, so that whenever Tara gets in the media, there’s a subtitle that says who the designer was. She gets everything for free because of that. I’ve tried to tell her that she should buy her own clothes, or have them made bespoke…
Don’t be ridiculous, says Whirljack. Media push is a part of life.
That’s only because you’re a commercial artist, Driscoll sniffs.
You were in an NBIA campaign, Cillian points out.
I was only helping Ross with his new venture. Besides, at the time, javajuice was cutting edge. I wouldn’t be caught dead with it now.
What? say Ross and Davy simultaneously.
It’s true. Javajuice is so nineties. It’s for middle class shopkeepers now. Insurance salesmen.
I’m very proud of the javamelon, says Davy. It makes an excellent projectile in a trebuchet, too. Although I have to say that the secondary use of a chocumber is better.
The javamelon is an excellent design, says Driscoll. It’s just that javajuice is played out.
Get to the part, says Mickey, about the dobergator.
Right. So I didn’t want to bother Tara anymore, but I still didn’t get the thing about the dog. And then Cüinn said, Well, if you don’t understand something, then do an experiment to find out.
Experiment? I asked.
Yeah, why don’t you get a dog?
And then there was a big kerfuffle about whether a dog would be a distraction from Tara, or fun, or a good experiment, or the kind of stupid, half-baked idea Cüinn is always having. And then Lorcan said, If we got a guard-dog, it might be useful to Tara, right, Cillian?
Yeah, maybe, Cillian said, but the thought that you made that suggestion is kind of creeping me out. Like when a serpent hands me an apple.
I didn’t think that serpents had hands, I said, confused.
Apples, said Lorcan. Apples are good.
Strictly speaking, said Cüinn, we’re not apples. We’re nectarines. Apple is a misnomer.
Well, the word “apple” in the Bible is probably a mistranslation, Dermot offered. It was probably a pomegranate.
How could anyone eat a pomegranate? asked Lugh. They’re nothing but seeds. The whole idea is disgusting.
It’s that foolish taboo again, said Valentin, although I find pomegranates a little crunchy. I prefer the juice.
What kind of dog? Mickey asked, pulling the conversation back on track.
Lorcan paused dramatically. A dobergator, he announced.
Isn’t there a song about a dobergator? asked Blackjack. They always do it for karaoke.
Doberman, said Whirljack. A dobergator is only half-Doberman. The other half is alligator.
Not really, said Cüinn. First of all, it’s over 80% canine. Secondly, the injected genes are from a caiman. They just thought that dobermanman would sound stupid. The breeders realized that the Doberman had a design flaw – a weak neck. That’s why they always have those spikey collars. But a dobergator has scaled armor. Also, they’ve got those elongated jaws with the big lower teeth protruding. And they’re amphibious.
I’m really trying to imagine how this is a good idea, said Tommy.
I called for Lord Danak. “Where would I get a dobergator?” I asked.
“A what?”
“You know, for companionship and protection.”
“I don’t know if dobergators are legal on Dolparessa,” he replied. “Then again, it’s not like anyone is going to arrest the bloody Archon.” He gave me a kind of funny look.
It was the look that said Are you stupid or are you stupid? says Cillian. But since we’re fucking God, people have this half-assed idea that we know what we’re doing.
Caimans have really bad temperaments, says Cüinn.
You could have said something at the time, says Mickey.
So Lord Danak found an illegal breeder. The guy thought he was being arrested, so he was kind of relieved that we just wanted to buy one. Actually, he started saying all this stuff about how dobergators are just misunderstood, and they’re really loving to their owners. They just get attached really quickly and attack everyone outside of the family on sight.
I was really hoping that it would take a good bite out of Lord Danak, says Lorcan. Or maybe General Lemkht. But the worst it did was eat Premma’s ra’aabit.
We’re still in the compost bin for that one, says Cillian. When Premma found out, she was worse than the dobergator.
So I got Trexie – that was her name, a cross between Trixie and T-rex – but then I realized that a dobergator needs access to water. I needed to set up a tank. Fortunately, Tara’s bath is really, really big, because Trexie was almost two meters long.
And that’s where it should’ve stopped, says Patrick. Anything that will prevent Tara from taking a bath: just stop.
So then I realized that I didn’t know anything about it – what it ate, or how to take care of it – so I decided to do some research.
We really should have done a review of the literature before trying the experiment, says Cüinn.
The articles in the Matriarch’s library said that it had to get acclimated to you. So you were supposed to repeat its name softly until you could get close enough to pet it. It was supposed to like being rubbed between the ears. I never found out. It bit my thumb off, and while I was regenerating, it broke loose and ran down the hallway.
I still remember the screams, Lorcan says dreamily.
We found it in Premma’s room, its mouth encased in blood and fur. And then somehow…somehow…
I shut my eyes, shuddering. The image is still too vivid.
Premma went berserk, says Cillian.
Premma had a bronze statuette of a ballerina riding a unicorn, says Lorcan. She drove that horn right between Trexie’s eyes. Punctured the brain. Instant kill.
I wanted to offer Premma a job with SSOps, says Mickey, but the timing seemed wrong.
Tara was really angry. That was the worst part. She made me clean the dobergator guano out of the tub.
If Tara needed a dog, I and I would emanate one, says Whirljack.
He already has, says Callum. So I think this establishes once and for all who wears the collar around here.