Silver was the colour of the summer morning...
The strong sunlight following the dawn made the Eastern Ocean resemble the silvery plains of the moon; the sky above was an unearthly silvery blue. Silver reflected off the white capped waves and the clouds on the horizon. The green leaves and palm fronds of the trees wore the colour of silver like new dresses they were showing off by shimmering from the morning winds.
The winds were joined by the hourly South Coast Railway silver passenger train; the sun making it glow like a comet streaking through the small coastal town on its single track rather than through the skies.
The sun and the wind made quite a team of opposites. The former was a creature of routine, rising and travelling the same commute each and every day. Sometimes the latter was wild and daring when it came from one exciting direction then speedily travelled to another fascinating one, telling tales on the way of its adventures in different lands in an ethereal language. The former could be seen and felt, the latter was invisible except for the leaves and debris it picked up and the path of the clouds.
The usual birds were missing, obviously they were hiding from the pair.
Phil Danté reflected that his life had started out as a sun and he later became a sun again, only his solar systems had changed as time passed. In his childhood and early adolescence, he had gone to school and returned during the week then gone and returned from the cinema and visits with his Auntie on the weekends. He became the wind when he became a soldier, travelling around the world several times with his father mocking him that he never got anywhere. He returned to living like the sun with a wife, her mother, and the birth of a daughter. He and his wife retired from Sydney to the small coastal town; their daughter now travelled through the skies and the world as an RAAF officer.
He watched the summer morning theatre from his bedroom window together with his two satellites and best friends, the miniature white poodles Franco and Ciccia.
His wife Francesca had a multitude of things to do. In contrast, Phil was fond of quoting Terence Hill's Trinity, 'I'm too busy doing nothing', for doing nothing was something he excelled at...and he shared his expertise with the poodles. Like Phil's parents, Fran couldn't understand how anyone could possibly revel in doing nothing. He replied that he had an imagination and she and his parents didn't; ergo if you're bored, it's your own fault.
He and his poodles made a joyous trio. Not only did he still see his town as a tourist, but he enjoyed his mornings and afternoons as much as if he telephoned in sick to his school or to his employer to enjoy a forbidden day off.
* * *
Breakfast, morning housework and backyard poodle ball games were finished. Fran and her business partner would be starting their dog grooming. Phil walked through his town like a slow wind every day, for he and his poodles were on patrol.
'What shall we sing today, gang? Sea shanties or lumberjack songs?'
Lumberjacks!
'Lumberjack songs it is!'
The poodles pranced down the street as Phil sang Cry Timber! from Alan Ladd's Guns of the Timberland. Those neighbours not at work stared at them from their windows...
* * *
They reached the City Council building as Phil was singing Five Weeks in a Balloon, for his repertoire of lumberjack songs was finished.
Tory Sanford watched them approach. She was dressed in her tan Council Ranger uniform; summer shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with red shoulder patches. A Batman-type utility belt matched her shoes. Her hair was tied up beneath her tan broad brimmed hat with chin strap and a red scarf as a puggaree. On her back was a small red backpack containing her gear. As Doc said, when she wore her dark sunglasses, she looked and acted like the pink bunny that advertised long lasting batteries on television. Phil replied that Harvey, James Stewart's six-foot three white rabbit, saw Tory...
'Who wears short shorts?', sang Phil.
The poodles answered,
She wears short shorts!
Tory sat on a bench and signalled the poodles to come aboard for a mutual love-up.
‘It’s the Winsome Barkers!’, Tory enthusiastically smiled.
'The meeting of the Ranger Tory fan club will now come to order!', laughed Phil.
He began singing Sammy Davis Jr.'s What's a Nice Kid Like You Doing in a Place Like This? as Tory and the poodles went ecstatic over seeing each other. There were kisses, cuddles and heavy petting all around.
'You know how wildly romantic those French are, Tory.'
'So Fran tells me.'
To Tory, Phil was James Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life who actually succeeded on leaving home and going around the world. Like Ulysses, he never returned until his youth was gone and he brought his own Penelope with him.
'You look fighting fit and fit to fight...'
As a gym junkie, she was more fit than most fitness personal trainers. She stood and looked taller than she actually was, for Tory could cut anyone down to size...
'What are you three up to today?'
'What I always wanted to do when I was in school or the public service. Be in the fresh air with my best friends and watch the wind shake the leaves in the trees, either sitting in the sun if it's cool or in the shade if it's hot. Read, eat, nap. Repeat.'
'If I didn't love this job so much, I'd be tempted to join you!'
'We'd be honoured to have you! When's Doc coming back?'
'Two more days. I don't have the Police Special Constable powers he has, but I won't need them...hopefully.'
'Don’t ever sell yourself short, Ranger. If you need a posse, you can count on us!'
Just like Rio Bravo!
'Thanks, maybe I could use some sniffer dogs...'
Franco and Ciccia looked around.
'She's talking about you two...you're experts at sniffing out trouble!'
Oh.
Ranger Sanford squatted down to look the two poodles in their eyes.
'There's no trouble, but I'm going to check out an abandoned building for squatters and hazards. Please come along…I'll need your superpowers!'
Let's go, Rangers!
The building had once been owned by a government agency until in the craze for privatisation and gaining money from selling off assets, they put the property up for sale. Commonwealth, State and Local authorities stuck their noses in, making the property unsellable and it remained vacant. Curiously, the local Historical Society discovered there were no blueprints of the property on record anywhere.
There was no damage to the windows; they walked around the building as Tory checked the door.
The poodles went into full alert mode. They ran to a back entrance; Tory discovered it was unlocked and they entered.
‘Rangers, lead the way!’, Phil cracked.
They noticed a hole in the floor, the poodles looked down and barked.
Tory pulled out her powerful torch that doubled as her baton/behaviour modification device.
'There's something down in the rubble, I can't make out what...'
Franco barked and entered another small hole in the floor.
'Where do you think you're going?'
They heard a small crash, Tory screamed, Ciccia whined and barked simultaneously. As they looked down the small hole, Phil looked frightened,
Franco! Est-ce que vous allez bien? Réponds-moi!!!
Ciccia began hysterically barking. Phil picked her up and cuddled her as he looked into her eyes,
'Now I know how my Mum felt when I did stupid things!'
Tory clutched his shoulder in support, she had never seen Phil frightened…
They heard Franco barking ‘OK’ below. Phil and Ciccia showed relief, Ciccia licked Phil’s face as Tory smiled in approval,
‘Awwww…’
By the light of Tory's torch down the large hole in the floor, a dirty Franco approached what now looked like a child's body and began licking her face.
The child feebly responded!
'Doggie...'
'Thank God you're all right! We'll be right down!', shouted a determined Tory.
She telephoned for an ambulance on her mobile phone but was told there would be a considerable wait.
'I hope someone's shut off the power!'
Phil removed his rubber soled shoes he called ‘brothel creepers’ and used them to grab and pull off some of the knob and tube electrical wiring on the walls.
'Am I glowing in the dark, Tory?'
'No! This building's been vacant for years and they would've shut off the electricity long ago. Let's get enough wires or cables for you to lower me down!'
'I'm not going to argue with you because you're a lot lighter than me, and with a kid down there, there’s no time for back up!'
'She must've come in to play then crashed through that weak bit of the wooden floor.'
'We'll have to get enough wire to wrap a few strands together in case one wire breaks. I'll lower you from here.'
As Phil wrapped wires together, Tory noticed the child held Franco.
'Here goes nothing...'
‘No…here goes somebody…one emergency…one Ranger!’
Tory’s eyes were identical to those of the soldiers he had led around the world, fear was there, but it was third place to mission accomplishment and not letting everyone down…
She gave Phil a smile; he proudly told her,
'You make Lara Croft look like a Brownie!'
'I don't have what she has up top...'
'You're not carrying a pair of automatic pistols...yet...That's where she carries her spare magazines.'
'I'm always astounded at the things you know, Phil.'
There was enough wire to lower Tory, and he did.
Reaching the floor, she smiled and advanced to the pair.
'My name's Ranger Tory and this is Franco. You're one brave poodle, but your Mummy Fran's going to go to the moon when she sees how dirty you are...and who are you and what's your mummy going to do?'
'I'm Maddy!'
The child laughed as Franco licked Tory's face, then returned to licking the child's face.
'I wanna go home...'
'We all want to go home and that's where we're going, Maddy!'
'Is she pinned under any rubble? Maybe you can use a lever.'
'No worries, she's just had the wind knocked out of her. I don't see any bleeding. She's very brave and not in any pain!'
Tory softly talked to the child as she wiped her face and skin with wet wipes. She shouted upwards,
'I hope you had your Weet-Bix for brekkies! Can you pull up the three of us?'
'I can hold out if the cable does! How did Franco get down?'
Tory shone her torch about.
'He found a way, but it looks like it gave way when we heard the crash, Franco's fine!'
'Send up your pack with Franco inside first. You'll save some weight!'
She removed a pair of gloves and put them on, then rearranged the pack’s contents. She then placed Franco in her backpack with his head sticking out and tied the wires around it so Phil could pull the pack up.
Ciccia watched with concern, Maddy and Tory giggled at Franco's expression as he went up in the backpack.
After bringing up her pack with Franco in it, he reinspected the twined wires and cables and sent them down.
Next to go up to Phil and the poodles was Maddy, who was as excited as if she was on an amusement ride at Luna Park. Tory anxiously stood beneath her lest the wires broke and she’d have to catch her. She made it.
‘This is Ciccia, and I’m Mr. Danté…what’s your name?’
‘I’m Maddy…and you’re the Poodle Man!’
Ciccia gave Maddy another good facial licking as Phil inspected the cable yet again and sent it down.
‘Ready or not, here I come.’
Tory held her torch between her teeth.
'That's just the place for it, Tory! Now I'll pop my proton energy pill!'
Phil wound the cable around him, but rather them him pulling her up, Tory expertly climbed the twined cables.
‘Commando Tory! Sky Queen of the Universe!’
Soon Tory's hands were holding on to the hole in the floor as Ciccia supervised.
‘The Greatest Tory...Ever Bold’, smiled Phil. Maddy cheered, and so did the poodles!
* * *
The ambulance arrived; Phil irritated Tory by telling Maddy the paramedics were male strippers. Maddy had regained her strength and was petting both poodles. It was as if they were the Australian version of the Golden Fleece that could bring a person back to life.
Tory telephoned Maddy’s mother and put her on. When they finished, Tory spoke,
'They're going to take you away and have a better look at you. Once your parents tell us you're well and not going exploring on your own anymore, all four of us are going to give you a visit and we'll have a tea party!'
‘Turn your siren on, you’re carrying someone special!’, Phil added.
The poodles wagged their tails. They licked her one last time as the ambos shut the door and gave her a ride...with the siren on.
Phil had fears for Doc that Tory being in such close proximity to a child in need would permanently affect Doc's easy-going life.
'How did she get down there? Did anyone take-'
'No, Phil. She said it was her secret place that she would go to and explore on her own. Then the floor gave way...’
Tory's eyes wandered away,
'I had a secret place when I was a little girl...I was the Queen of my own realm in an abandoned house like she was.'
'Your Queendom is one place I've never been to that I'd dearly love to visit.'
'You'll always be welcome...Did you ever have a secret place?'
'No, I had the cinema...Funny...I never thought women went in for imagination...my Mum never seemed to believe the fairy tales she read me, and my sister and daughter would spend all their time after school at ballet or sports rather than playing…'
'Fancy that...my Dad and brother and all the boys I knew believed summer meant cricket and fishing...and nothing else but!'
'That's exactly what my Dad was like...I used to cheese him off because I told him both were “boring as” and neither one was a ball of fun…like you are.’
She embraced Phil, he responded, the two poodles went on their hind legs and held Tory's legs.
'Now! I've lots of paperwork to do!'
'Work???!!!', exclaimed Phil in his Maynard G. Krebbs impersonation. 'Time for us to get lost!'
The poodles sat on their haunches, looked up at Phil and gave a questioning whine. He looked down at them.
‘What do you want, poocheenies? Rio Bravo?’, Phil went into a Walter Brennan cackle, ‘Hee hee, that was a good ‘unn!’
He removed his broad brimmed hat and wiped his forehead with a large handkerchief, put his hat back on and rakishly tilted it towards the right. He and Tory wistfully looked into each other’s eyes as he began singing like Dean Martin as the poodles rose and wagged their tales.
‘The sun is sinking in the west…’
Tory’s eyes widened and moistened; she had not even told Doc that Rio Bravo was her father’s favourite film. They would watch it together when she was a little girl, and he would sing that same song to her when he put her to bed.
Phil saluted Tory with two fingers, moved them to his lips to send her a kiss, then waved good-bye and winked. She responded with the same gestures; Phil and the poodles turned away.
She watched them as they walked towards the harbour down the pavement of the town as if they owned it; she involuntarily began whistling along with Phil’s song and slowly swayed her hips from side to side. He had changed the lyrics My Rifle, My Pony and Me to My Franco, My Ciccia and Tor-ee, for he pronounced her name in the French fashion with the stress on the final syllable. Those in the town gave their usual look to the crazy old Poodle Man.
As Tory turned to walk to the Ranger's office in the Council Building, she heard the screech of tyres.
Fran’s car with its Beau Chien Canine Beauty Salon mobile dog grooming service Beautymobile trailer had stopped to the side of the three. The blackened Franco unsuccessfully attempted to hide behind Phil as Francesca began screaming in Italian. Phil stood with his arms crossed and responded in French with Louis de Funès gestures and expressions then pointed towards Tory. The excited crowd that had watched the ambulance now watched the Dantés in mortal combat...Fran won the fight when her finger pointed towards the rear of the Beautymobile. Phil and the poodles sheepishly climbed in the back of the trailer to the sound of Tory’s laughter.
Phil stood up and began drumming on top of the roof and shouted,
‘Poodle coat Junction!’
He made train whistle noises as he shut the trailer’s doors on them.
FIN
Author Notes: Bonne fête nationale!
Recommend Reviews (1) Write a ReviewReport
Australia • 67 years old