In between splashings I encouraged Frey to drink, which was also something necessary for his over- heated body. I limited the quantity, of course, but that wasn’t difficult since all I had to do was splash him, and he was back in the game of turning me into an old mattress, completely saturated in water.
I’d just stopped his play and ordered him to take another drink when I heard the sound of a horse trotting up.
The moment I heard the approaching rider, it hit me that I’d trespassed on someone’s property and would probably be lectured if not jailed for the liberties I’d taken with the owner’s corral and water trough. I looked down at the mess that Frey and I’d made. The once dry dirt inside the area had been turned into a muddy pigpen, and most of the trough water had been emptied out. Boy, was I in trouble!
When I looked up to see how angry the owner was, it was with some relief, however undeserved as that might be, that it was not some angry bull of a man, but Officer Krugel.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling that a furious owner might actually have been a better person to apologize to. But misfortune comes and must be suitably dealt with, as Old Mother used to say. Misfortune with a big exclamation point.
The officer’s face reflected little anger, though. He seemed merely perplexed by my appearance and by the fact that I was standing in someone else’s empty corral.
“What in Melsville are you doing?” he asked, his lips curving in amusement.
I know I should have answered right away, but it just blurted out of me, as things were inclined to do. “Who is Melsville?”
Officer Krugel shook his head and actually completed the smile. “It’s just an expression we use. When Melsville was alive, he liked to clown around. He died a couple of years ago from old age, but still whenever something silly occurs, we use that phrase. Seeing you wetter than a flea dipped puppy, it seemed most appropriate here.”
“Oh,” I said, too embarrassed to deal with such insults.