The Poodle Capers...

The day was hot. Really, really hot. Dust clouds floated over the dry, winding road. Chavez, my fierce attack poodle, was lounging in the front seat of my black, 1977 souped-up camaro. We were on a top secret mission.

Chavez wriggled in his seat. He straightened up to reveal the full sitting height of his 6 pound frame. I knew that he was telling me something. He had to pee - really badly. There was only one logical thing to do. I pulled the car over at a little gas station and attached the leash to his black, spiked collar. After Chavez had taken care of his business, I decided to go inside the gas station. I really needed a sugar fix.

I slowly meandered the aisles. Wow - decisions, decisions... Sugar daddies, gummi bears, sour patch kids, and snicker bars... They all looked delicious. It would just be too insensitive to get something that I could not share with my faithful bodyguard. So, I bypassed all of the chocolate. As I grabbed some gummy bears and walked back to the cooler of drinks in the back, I happened to sight two men that I was sure that I had seen before. I decided to play it cool. Still walking to the back, I let my long, curly hair cover my face. One of the perks of wearing tight, camoflage pants in this neck of the woods - redneck boys would never even notice my face...

"What do you think she'd eat? She wouldn't even touch that kibble and bits we tried to give her. Boss don't want her if she air too skinny..." I heard one of the buffoons babble. My pulse began to rise.

"I ain't never seen a more persnickety dog. Dadblamed it. We still got 'bout fifty more miles with that mutt." The other man whined. I took note of his stringy mullet and acid-wash blue jeans.

Oh, crap. Before I knew it, they were behind me in line. "Well, hi there, sugar. You doin' okay today?" One of them was talking to me. I wheeled around. They had no idea who I was. I decided to use this to my advantage.

"I'm doin' just fine," I said - smiling pretty. Thank goodness that high school drama club had some use. "Oh, but - y'all don't happen to know where O------ is? Do you? I simply can't seem to find it on the map. I guess that's what I get for being born female...I can't read a map at all." I remembered to flip my hair at just the right time. Oh, brother. I was even making myself sick.

"You goin' there? So's we. Why don't you jest follow us. We'll even buy you a rootbeer tonight at Bertha's." His grin revealed green, grimy teeth.

"Yeah" chimed in the second goober. "And I'll buy you a couple rootbeers - and a chilidog."

I tried to hide my disgust. "Oh, that'd be wonderful!" Little did they know that they were making it really easy for me to do my job. I could not let their car get out of my sight. And it would be even better if they would take me back to their boss. Unsuspecting fools!

Soon, we were on the road behind them. Their old, rickety pick-up truck spouted out exhaust fumes at an alarming rate. I knew now that my distrust in white pick-up trucks was completely acceptable. Occasionally they would turn around and wave at me. If it were not for the cargo in the back of the truck! The small dog-carrier tied down with pulleys nearly broke my heart! From behind the bars peered the small, fragile, genteel face of Madame Fifi, IV. Her small dark eyes looked over her long, poodle nose. It nearly broke my heart. Her tea-cup size and gentle nature was no match for a pair of country bumpkin roughnecks. They would never know how to treat a noble lady.

It wasn't long until we started pulling down a long, tree-lined driveway. These fellows were really, really dumb...They had taken me right to their boss. They stopped right before the house was in view. "Sugar, you goin' have to stay right chere. We gotta take this mutt back to her - uh, owner."

"Fine. Why don't you let me do that!" I opened my door suddenly, hitting one of the goons in the gut. He doubled over. "Now, Chavez!" Chavez was the fiercest attack dog this side of the Mississippi. He jumped out of the car and started biting the other thug's ankles. I hit both dummies in the head with the nine-iron that was in my golf bag in the back seat. Then, I extricated Madame Fifi, IV, from her prison. She jumped into my arms. I put her on a purple silk pillow in the back of the car. Chavez would look after her.

"Boys, looks like y'all are going to be all tied up this afternoon." I tied both of them up with their own bungee cords. "Remember, crime doesn't pay. And you should really learn to treat a lady right." Poor Madame Fifi, IV!

Later that day, I returned Madame Fifi to her owner. I was happy to see that a scented bubble bath and a pedicure was waiting for her. She was the delicate type.

Chavez and I drove off into the sunset. It was just another day in the life of a secret agent...