Boomer Ang: Part 6

The door was already opened and I sniffed. I recognized many different odors but they all were unfamiliar to what I remembered, and then I smelled the body. It smells somewhat familiar but from where? I sniff the man’s clothes some more. It was the man who came to the house before Master Bob was shot. I looked up at Detective Mike, to say it wasn’t him, and continued sniffing.

I found another scent though. The same scent as the crippled man. I tried pulling away to find this odor. I literally pushed everyone in the room out of the way, sniffing for that same odor as earlier and this morning. “Woof,” I told Mike as I pull him with force to the other side of this house. I couldn’t begin to tell you what’s inside because my focus is fully on this scent.

I find a room in the back of the house where the scent appears most pronounced. “Woof, Woof, woof,” I announce that I found him.

“My God,” Detective Mike announced. “Officers, deputies, he’s in here. I heard Detective Mike shuffling the leash to his other hand and grabbing for something else. I looked up and saw it’s a gun. I feel three times scarier than before. “Okay Rodrigues come out with your hands up!”

Nothing. I have this overwhelming need. I feel my kibbles wanting to come out the other end. I released my odor bomb and it smells bad.

“Jeeze what did you feed him?” An officer asked Detective Mike who’s also behind me.

Detective Mike gagged for breath but didn’t let go of the leash. “Go ahead!” The door broke open with a bang and wood fragments flew in every direction. It’s empty, but the smell is still there in this room. I move ahead to another door and bark. There behind that door.

“Come out Rodrigues. It’s the police!” Detective Mike announced.

I heard a muffled sound coming from inside. “BANG,” came a roaring boom that splintered the door to pieces and there he was the man who shot Master Bob last night. His face had an evil and frightening look of desperation, fear and a willingness to die right there. He broke open the gun to place in another shell.

I didn’t realize the leash felt so suddenly slack from a second ago and jumped inside the closet, grab his hand and clamp my jaws tight on this man Detective Mike called Rodrigues.

“Ahh! Get him off me!” He cries out. It sounded chaotic behind me as another person pulled hard on my leash and drag me from this person, but I refused to let go of his hand. I tasted his blood. I wanted to kill this Rodrigues above all else at that very second. I let go of the hand in hopes of springing up to his neck and giving him the kiss of death with my teeth and jaws.

But someone pulls me out from the room and the house instead. It wasn’t Detective Mike but that other officer who asked him what I ate. “I’m suing all you!” That man inside screamed. “He broke my hand! It’s mangled!”

“You did good, fella,” the officer told me as he scratched my ears making me a new friend. Two more cars with flashing lights came. This one stops abruptly and two men ran by

carrying boxes and two more men came inside hauling a bed on wheels. Where is Detective Mike?

The man who blasted that hole through the door came out shackled and mad. He glares at me and I growl back, “WOOF, WOOF, WOOF!” Two officers push him down the steps and he limps to the police car and I watch them push him inside. They get in and leave with the prisoner in the back seat. Where is Detective Mike?

I smell him coming out. He’s hurt because I smell his blood. I whimper at the unfairness.

I watch those two men came out carrying Detective Mike on the bed with wheels. A tube is attached to his arm and a plastic bag lying on his chest, and a mask covers his mouth. I see his breath on the mask appear and disappear. “Woof,” I begged him to get better. There were bandages wrapped about his face and neck and body. Someone took off his white shirt and tie.

Those men ran passed me and inside that big red and white car with red and white lights flashing. They drive away with the siren wailing. I howl because the wailing hurts my ears. The sound continue long after they leave. More people arrive and then Chief comes out. His face seems set with a certain determination.

“I’ll take him with me,” he told the officer who held my leash. “Come on Boomer. You get to come home with me.” I looked up at him with a sad expression. I whimpered at him. He tugged on the leash and I slowly followed him to his car.

He talked on the cell phone that he had on him. “Yeah, it’s Mike, he got hurt serving that arrest warrant. He’ll be at the hospital in Gooding. He’ll be fine I’m sure. Do me a favor and go pick up Mary so she can take care of the necessary paperwork. I got his dog and will take him home tonight so she doesn’t need to worry about him too.”

He got inside the car and closed the door. “Well, I was in the other room when it happened. The perp apparently was barricaded inside a closet with a sawed-off shotgun. It went off and Mike caught most of the splintered fragments. It cut him up pretty bad, but like I said, he’ll be alright. I love you too. Bye.”

He put the cell phone back inside his dark colored jacket and zipped it up. “We’ll see how he’s doing, Boomer and then I’m going to interrogate that man who hurt him and killed your master. I guarantee you he’ll get the death penalty when I’m done with him.” I laid on the back seat and moped in sadness that twice someone close to me has been hurt. Chief said Detective Mike would be alright, but I still feel sadness like a heavy anchor filling my heart. I could still taste him on my mouth and tongue too. It’s a vile and evil flavor like a bitter root from tree or thorny bush.

Published by Jerry Schellhammer

Jerry, a published author of both published and self-published books, is devoting his time and efforts to his craft after having retired from the previous job as a janitor at Northern Quest Resort and Casino. He now calls Gooding, Idaho his home. Writing is his passion and he now has a successfully published book and another on the way to being published later this year. He has a BA in English with emphasis in professional writing from Washington State University. His website: www.jerryschellhammer.com is available for everyone to see. In it are the lists of published books available both through Amazon and Barnes & Noble in eBook and print format.

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