Story Notes:
Special thanks to Telwoman for providing the original idea and checking out the story before posting!
Dogs and their Men
The Major was still furious when they arrived at Headquarters. Even outside the closed door G and Z could hear him bellowing, from the sound of it to someone on the phone.
“Just in time, Herr Z," he said sharply, as soon as the two agents made their hesitant way in. "It would seem your dog may be withholding a crucial piece of evidence.”
Z found himself unable to do anything but stare blankly at his commanding officer. “I'm...not sure I understand, sir,” he said uncertainly.
“The KGB agent we apprehended,” the Major started explaining with evident displeasure on his face. “Another division has been on his trail for a while now – the report of our man who was in charge of his surveillance just came in. He wasn’t merely hiding out in that factory – he was waiting to deliver a microchip with top secret information to a local contact. According to the report, the handout hadn’t taken place yet when we took him in custody; but the microchip was not found on his person.”
“Perhaps he hid it somewhere or destroyed it when he realized we were onto him,” A suggested. “That is possible,” acknowledged the Major, “but not very likely. The KGB has caught on to more modern methods lately; to avoid detection, the microchips they use for data transfer are mostly implanted subcutaneously.”
“Under his skin?” “Ja, and this means he could not have easily removed or destroyed it, especially since we caught him by surprise,” the Major said, the frown on his face more evident by the second. “Which means the microchip should probably be somewhere on his body.”
“Can’t we…scan him or something to locate it?” Z asked hesitantly, flinching as the Major directed his scowl at him. “We did, and the scan came back negative,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “There is, however, a part of his body our physicians cannot account for.”
Z started shivering in spite of himself. “Umm…which part of his body, sir?” he ventured to ask, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
The Major stared hard at him, and Z made a mental note to take his skiing outfit out of mothballs – Alaska seemed a definite possibility right now. “His left leg, Herr Z,” he said incisively. “The one your dog was chewing so enthusiastically not long ago.”
Yup, Alaska seemed more and more likely, Z thought; he’d managed to steer clear of it so far but he should’ve known this day would come eventually. “So…you think it’s possible that Kl…I mean, my dog, bit off and swallowed the microchip by mistake? If so…”
“If so, we need to extract it out of him,” the Major said matter-of-factly. Then, taking note of the deathly pallor on Z’s face he added, “If he swallowed the microchip, it will be in his stomach; a scan will confirm that, and then our doctors will administer some laxative and it should probably…come out the normal way.”
“But what if the dog has already…you know…” B asked hesitantly and the Major turned towards him. “It hasn’t been that long since we apprehended the agent, but we should not disregard that possibility,” he said in the same businesslike tone; no one would ever imagine he was actually talking about a dog’s bowel movements. “Herr Z, I take it your dog hasn’t relieved himself after the agent was arrested?”
“Er, no…not to my knowledge, sir,” Z said haltingly; he was still getting used to the fact that he was actually discussing his dog’s toilet habits with his commanding officer. “He, um…did that when I was walking him at the Kottenforst earlier, so he, um…normally shouldn’t need to go again until tomorrow…”
“Excellent,” the Major said, grabbing his trench coat. “You’re with me, Herr Z; we’re going to your apartment to retrieve the dog immediately.”
Z and G jolted in surprise; overwhelmed as they were by all these developments, only now did they remember that Z’s dog was not in his apartment at the moment; and more to the point, that he was actually in G’s apartment together with an overly friendly Afghan named Dorian. The Major was irate enough as it were after all the trouble Z’s dog had caused, the last thing he needed to see was his namesake dog getting chummy with a foppish foreign dog named after the person who irritated him the most. “Er, there is no need to trouble yourself, sir,” Z said hastily. “G and I will bring the dog here right now, so…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped the Major. “This could be a matter of international security, of course I should be present.” Without waiting for further objections he marched out; Z and G exchanged a look of desperation and rushed after him. The rest of the alphabets remained in the office, looking at each other worriedly.
“Actually, sir,” G tittered in his sweetest voice whilst struggling to catch up to the Major’s long strides, “we never had the chance to tell you…Z’s dog is not in his apartment right now.”
The Major stopped in his tracks, transfixing the two agents with his most deathly glare yet. “Not in his apartment?” he asked sharply. “Where then?”
“Well, his apartment was quite far and we thought we shouldn’t be late for the debriefing, so we dropped him off at my place instead,” G said in one breath. The Major nodded stiffly and stomped towards his Benz; Z and G followed, silently praying that their dogs would be on their best behaviour when the Major arrived.
Meanwhile, back in G’s courtyard…
Klaus (the dog) remained uncertainly immobile while his new companion circled around him, sniffing him with increasing eagerness. Normally he would not tolerate being approached by another male so brazenly, but he was the one intruding in the other dog’s territory and that curbed his aggressiveness quite a lot. The Afghan didn’t seem to mind his intrusion at all though, since he was already wagging his long-haired tail happily whilst sniffing the newcomer, more and more intimately by the second.
The Doberman let out a slight yelp of surprise as he suddenly felt the Afghan’s nose getting dangerously near his butthole. Finally getting over his indecisiveness he turned around sharply to avoid any more exposure; that foreign dog was definitely taking too many liberties with him. But the Afghan was way too agile for him; in no time at all he had circled round again to sniff Klaus’ rear.
For the next several minutes a rather amusing spectacle could be seen in that courtyard: the Doberman running around continuously this way and that and letting out menacing growls, trying with all his might to shake the Afghan off his behind; but Dorian was just as quick and persistent as his namesake thief and kept finding a way to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. He seemed to be having the time of his life too; if dogs could smile he’d be grinning right now. It was obvious he found this game very amusing, and Klaus’ evident discomfort did not faze him in the slightest.
Then suddenly at some point while the Doberman was trying to shake him off, without warning Dorian bounded up and mounted Klaus from behind. The Doberman shook violently and started barking angrily to get him off his back, but this strange dog was surprisingly strong, much stronger than his slender build would suggest. Slowly but steadily the Afghan pinned him down and then started licking his ears, wagging his tail enthusiastically again. Gradually Klaus ceased his barking as he realized it felt kind of nice, having his ears licked; he couldn’t reach there himself. His master had trained him not to let strange humans touch him, but this was a dog so it wasn’t the same, right? So in the end he stopped struggling and lay down complacently while his new friend kept licking his ears with a zeal that showed no sign of diminishing any time soon.
…And it was right at this moment when the Major stomped into the courtyard, with G and Z running behind him. Upon seeing the two dogs in this position, the faces of both agents instantly drained of colour; oh yes, the Major would definitely order both them and their dogs to Alaska to form NATO’s first sleigh team. The Doberman, too, perked up his ears and raised his head in concern; uh-oh, this was his master’s pack leader and he looked angry, maybe he had done something wrong after all? The Afghan on the other hand wasn’t as well-disciplined; that human in front of his master looked scary, but he wasn’t about to have his fun interrupted so easily. After sparing just one disdainful look at the thunderous Major, he went back to his self-appointed task without a care in the world.
For a few moments the Major stood perfectly still, struggling between increasing fury and uncertainty as to how to handle this situation. Technically he had no reason to get angry at two dogs playing around, he knew that, but for some reason he found the scene before him deeply disturbing. Then fortunately he remembered that his mission was to retrieve Z’s dog, so he turned around and demanded, “Herr G, what is this mop on legs and what is it doing on top of Herr Z’s dog?”
“That would be my dog, sir,” G said meekly, trying his best to pacify his commanding officer. “He’s…just being friendly, I’m sure.”
“Well this isn’t the time for socializing! Call him off!”
“Of course, sir, right away, sir,” G said hastily and rushed to grab the Afghan by his collar – but Dorian wasn’t quite as obedient as Klaus and wouldn’t budge one inch. “Come on, Dor – darling, get off now…”
The Major’s sharp ears didn’t miss this slight change in intonation. “What did you say your dog is called, Herr G?” he asked suddenly, and the two agents turned even paler than before.
But G wasn’t feeling particularly suicidal right now; and fortunately for him, after having assumed so many fake identities for missions he had become quite adept at making up plausible lies on the spot. “Dorothy, sir, his name is Dorothy,” he said without hesitation.
The Major raised his eyebrows. “You named a male dog Dorothy?” he asked with obvious disapproval.
“Uh, yes sir, I did,” G said, still trying to move the Afghan who stubbornly refused to let go of his guest. “I know it’s not very fitting but I was very fond of The Wizard of Oz as a child, so…”
“We have no time for this nonsense,” the Major cut him short. “Get Dorothy off Z’s dog already and let’s get a move on.”
Several hours later Z exited a room in the basement of NATO Headquarters labeled ‘Laboratory’, looking completely exhausted. G was pacing up and down the corridor nervously, waiting for him, and ran towards him as soon as he saw him step outside. “Well then, is it over?” he asked impatiently.
“Yes,” Z said tiredly. “The chip was in Klaus’ stomach; fortunately it was small, so they only gave him laxative and he…well, pooped it out. He must have swallowed it whole because it came out intact, thank God. The techs are processing it right now and we’ll have the data in a few minutes.”
“Oh, that’s great news,” G said happily. “But how is Klaus, the poor dear? He was put through so much today…”
“You can say that again,” Z said grimly. “I left him in the lab to get some sleep for now; there’s no time to get him back to my apartment anyway. The techs said there seems to be a lot of important information on that chip, so the Major wants us all to stay here until we’ve cross-referenced every bit of it with all our other data on KGB’s activities.” He sighed again, half with fatigue, half with relief. “At least he can’t afford to send us to Alaska now, since he needs every man at his disposal.”
“Thank heaven for small favours,” murmured G philosophically. “We got enough of a scare for one day, at least I did. When the Major caught our dogs like that I honestly thought my poor Dorian was a goner.”
“Well, maybe not a goner – the Major has a bad temper but I don’t think he’d ever be cruel to animals,” Z disagreed and G was once again amazed by how much his colleague idolized their superior officer. He admired the Major a lot as well – especially his physical aspects – but his idea of the Major’s personality was far less ideal than Z’s noble and heroic image.
“On the other hand, you and I got off really cheap,” Z went on thoughtfully. “If the Major wasn’t in such a hurry to get his hands on the microchip we’d certainly be on our way to Alaska right now. We should be grateful he always puts the mission first.”
“I suppose we should; things could’ve gone a lot worse,” G assented. Then he smiled and added, “But I’m happy I had the chance to meet your Klaus, he’s such a dear…You should bring him over to play again sometime, Dorian seemed to be awfully fond of him.”
“Okay, but please don’t say those kinds of things out loud here,” Z said urgently, dropping his voice. “If the Major ever hears what your dog’s real name is…”
“…He’ll make dog feed out of us, I know,” G nodded with unusual gravity. Then a door was slammed somewhere behind them and they both jumped up in surprise. Fortunately it wasn’t the Major but some lab assistant headed for the staff toilets further down the corridor, but the two agents thought it more prudent to drop the conversation there and get back to work; there was a lot of it to be done anyway.
A few weeks later, inside the inconspicuous bedroom of an inconspicuous flat rented under an assumed name a rather interesting scene was taking place. That flat was on the topmost floor of an apartment building much higher than the neighbouring ones and the bedroom’s window blinds were firmly closed, so there was no possible way anyone could take a peek inside. But if by some miracle someone was able to take a peek inside, they would see quite an extraordinary sight: Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach of NATO reclining on the bed wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt, a cigarette in his hand. The extraordinary part wasn’t the Major having a smoke in bed, or even the Major wearing unbuttoned clothing. No, the extraordinary part was right next to him, in the form of a blond, curly-haired and totally naked individual currently lying face down with his face buried in the pillow. At first glance one might think he was asleep but that notion would soon be dismissed by the sound of smothered laughter coming out of the aforementioned pillow.
As the laughter showed no sign of abating the Major’s face gradually clouded with anger. “For how much longer are you going to laugh like an idiot?” he demanded irritably.
Dorian Red Gloria raised his head from the pillow, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “But darling, it’s such an amusing story,” he remarked amidst peals of laughter. “I’m sure you can see the funny side of it as well, even with your limited sense of humor.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my sense of humor,” huffed the Major. “And I fail to see what’s so amusing about crucial information almost getting digested by a dog, and all because my subordinates are useless idiots who only know how to make fun of their commander.”
“Really, darling, I can’t imagine anyone making fun of you, least of all dear Z,” Dorian said. “The boy dotes on you, and surely the only reason he gave his dog your name was because he looks up to you so much. I’d be flattered if I were you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would be,” the Major said acidly. “I bet you’re overjoyed that G named that degenerate dog of his after you.”
Dear, dear, is that a hint of jealousy I’m detecting, thought Dorian, doing a mental victory dance. He wisely didn’t reveal his innermost thoughts though, and instead asked with a smile, “You didn’t buy the ‘Dorothy’ story then, I take it?”
“As if anyone with half a brain would believe that,” the Major said scornfully; then he thought for a bit and added, “I admit G covered it up well enough to fool an outsider, which is the only reason I let him off the hook this time – only this time,” he said with emphasis. “But knowing how besotted he is when it comes to you, I’d have to be a complete idiot to be taken in as well. Not to mention it was the only fitting name for that hairy mutt, seeing how perverted he was.”
“My word, darling, ‘perverted’? It’s a dog you’re talking about!” Dorian exclaimed with another laugh, showing no indication of being offended. “What he was doing was just a gesture of friendliness, you know; when I was a child I remember my own dog doing that too.”
“You had a dog?” asked the Major, raising one eyebrow. “One of those snobbish yapping furballs constantly yanking on people’s trousers, no doubt.”
“I’ll have you know it was a King Charles spaniel,” Dorian said haughtily, raising his aristocratic nose as high as it could go. “A beautiful and noble creature and one of the best scent hounds there are, actually; far superior to those dumb brutish watchdogs,” he added, shuddering at the memory of watchdogs; while Dorian didn’t mind dogs in general, he despised guardian dogs because of his nasty encounter with them during his first attempt at stealing. “Such a wonderful companion, Sir Francis Drake was,” the Earl carried on with a sigh. “Unfortunately he died young because of some disease he caught, but I never forgot him.”
The Major’s eyebrow went even higher up, if that was possible. “Sir Francis Drake? But then I shouldn’t be surprised, what other name would you give your dog but that of a pirate,” he remarked. Dorian snorted arrogantly and asked in turn, “Then, pray tell, what did you name your pet dog, if I may ask? Surely you must have had at least one in that castle of yours.”
“I didn’t have a dog,” the Major said sharply. “There was one, but his duty was to guard the estate and accompany my father when he went hunting, not play with me. He died of old age sometime after I was sent to school, if I recall correctly.”
Dorian thought to himself that it was no wonder the Major was so hung up on ‘duty’ and all that, if even dogs had specific duties in the place he grew up in. Once again he didn’t say what was on his mind, however; he just rolled his eyes and said disdainfully, “A watchdog, then…ugh, how very predictable. A big scary German Doberman like Herr Z’s, I’m sure. What was he called, Attila the Hun?”
“Actually it was a big scary German Shepherd,” the Major said, “and his name was Bismarck.”
It was now Dorian’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Bismarck, as in the Iron Chancellor? Honestly, I should expect no less of a dog belonging to Iron Klaus!” he exclaimed, bursting into a new bout of laughter. As he kept on laughing the Major drew his eyebrows together angrily again; then, without warning, he stubbed out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray and with a swift motion turned the Earl on his back and pinned him down with his full body weight. “Don’t you think you’ve laughed enough at my expense already?” he asked with a very menacing grin. “It seems to me you’re starting to forget our positions here.”
“I would never, my love,” Dorian protested, the amusement lingering in his eyes belying his injured tone. “How could I possibly forget that you are the top dog here.” Pleased with himself for having come up with yet another dog pun, he started snickering again; and Klaus decided that the only way to stop Eroica from laughing at him would be to find another occupation for his mouth immediately. And so he did.