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Fiction Short Story

by Shirley McCann

His Just Reward

"Oh, Mr. Todd, I can't thank you enough for bringing Pooky home." Gladys Grayson opened the door of her small house, her blue eyes moist with tears, as she nuzzled her nose against another small dog. "Poor Glitzy and I have been worried sick!"

Mick Todd stroked the tiny animal's silky fur and feigned empathy, as he returned the dog to its rightful owner. “Well, I know Pooky is glad to be home himself," he said. "I shudder to think what it would be like for this little fellow if he wound up in some isolated pen at an animal shelter. All kinds of bad things can happen to lost or neglected animals in this town.”

Mrs. Grayson narrowed her eyes as she hugged both animals to her chest. "Well, Pooky certainly isn't neglected," she responded defensively. "I can't imagine how he escaped from the back yard."

Mick quickly amended his words. "I didn't mean to suggest that your pets are neglected, Mrs. Grayson. Why, anyone can see how much you adore these little animals. I'll bet they're treated like one of the family."

Mrs. Grayson's eyes softened. "Yes, they are," she answered. She kissed both dogs on the head before placing them onto the plush carpet. "Now let's see, Mr. Todd, I owe you a reward. One hundred dollars, I believe?"

Mick hung his head. "I feel guilty accepting money for doing something like this," he lied. "Seeing you and Pooky together is really reward enough."

Mrs. Grayson ignored the remark and reached for her pocketbook. "Nonsense, Mr. Todd. Like you said, there are all kinds of terrible things that could have happened to Pooky if you hadn't rescued him. I insist you take this money."

Mick smiled sheepishly and collected his eighth reward of the week. Who needed a nine-to-five job when he had the perfect scam? Truthfully, he couldn't stand animals, but there was definitely money to be made returning these annoying creatures to their rightful owners. Especially when some of them were willing to shell out big bucks for the safe return of their furry canine friends.

Mick folded himself into his fancy sports car and started the engine. Six months ago, he'd been working for minimum wage cleaning cages at a pet store, when he'd come up with the idea to go into business for himself.

His crusade had started legitimately enough. The bulletin boards were constantly filled with frantic pet owners willing to risk any amount for the safe return of their beloved animals. Mick had simply scanned the flyers at work, along with the local newspapers and various other outlets, for word of lost animals, but he'd soon discovered that most of those animals were not that easy to locate. It didn't take him long to realize that in order to make this new venture profitable, he'd need to corner the market.

Donning different wigs and disguises, Mick would visit several pet stores in the area, feigning interest in purchasing a particular breed of animal in order to strike up friendly conversations with unsuspecting pet owners. Many times without realizing it, people would offer information about their neighborhoods, making it easy for Mick to locate them.

From time to time, he'd also peruse busy parking lots for dogs whose owners had left them inside vehicles while they made a quick stop at a convenience store. Wielding a juicy chunk of meat, Mick would gently open the door and coax the animals out.

After delivering Pooky, Mick returned home and picked up the last of the stolen dogs from the pen he kept out back, and made his final return of the day.

Mick's general routine consisted of spending the weekdays perusing the neighborhoods he'd heard about, coaxing dogs from back yards and parked cars, and then returning them on weekends when the papers were filled with promises of hefty rewards. This particular weekend he'd done extremely well, collecting over $1,000 in compensation.

On Monday, Mick resumed his quest for priceless animals. As customary he spent the afternoon exploring prospective neighborhoods and parked vehicles until he had a respectable quota for the day.

Less than one hour after his last pickup, Mick was at his kitchen table sipping coffee when he heard a knock at his door. He opened the door to find a uniformed policeman, along with the woman he recognized as Mrs. Grayson, on his front porch.

"You!" Mrs. Grayson's eyes bulged with recognition.

The officer narrowed his eyes. "Sir, my aunt has reason to believe her dog may be on your premises. Mind if we have a look around?"

Mrs. Grayson didn't wait for an answer. "Don't bother to deny it," she snapped. "After Pooky wound up missing, I wasn't about to take any more chances. Right after you returned Pooky I had both of my precious animals equipped with one of those new GPS tracking chips for locating missing pets. As soon as I got back to my car this afternoon and discovered Glitzy missing, all I had to do was activate the system in order to find out where she was."

As if on cue, a chorus of dogs yelped cries of liberation. Shoving Mick aside, Mrs. Grayson followed the ruckus to the caged animals in the back yard.

She turned to her nephew, her eyes moist. "Pooky was being punished for running away, so I left him at home while I did my shopping this morning. But now I see it wasn't his fault at all."

She shot Mick a barbarous look, her once appreciative eyes replaced with venom. "You seemed so concerned about my animals winding up in a pen at the animal shelter when you returned Pooky for the reward money."

The officer put a hand on his aunt's shoulder. "Well, as they say, Aunt Gladys, what goes around, comes around."

He turned to Mick and read him his rights. "Now you can witness first hand what it's like to spend your days in a pen."

Copyright © 2004 Shirley McCann

About the Author
Shirley McCann's fiction has appeared in Woman's World, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Orchard Press Mysteries, and T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine. She lives in Springfield, Missouri with her husband and two children.