Michaela Johnson

Moby Dick

Bido and Cahab

Cahab's street was a long one. If you followed the whole thing, it could have gone on for years, maybe two or three. Plenty of people lived on the street, mostly in the middle houses. But Cahab lived on the corner with his wife and child, at the intersection of Newtucket Avenue and Fordinan Street. Newtucket stretched far into the distance, and no one really knew where it led. Cahab spent countless hours of his free time wandering around, going for a while then walking back home. Naturally with such a long street, many roads intersected with Newtucket, and many alleys were produced as well. Stray dogs and cats would wander just as much as Cahab.

Cahab hated animals.

Really, whenever he saw one, he wanted to just kick it and crush it into a lifeless form and no one would be the wiser but almost every time he went to do it, neighbors would spot him and he would lose his chance to kill the damn thing. It drove him crazy just to see so many furry, dirty, infected little balls of obnoxious walking around on his street.

There was this one dog, which the neighbors had christened 'Bido', that Cahab wouldn't hesitate to send to the pound to live out a horrible and disgusting life. Bido was a Great Dane with a bad temper and a thick skin. His wiry fur was snow white and somehow stayed clean without fail. His eyes beheld a satanic defiance, not unlike Cahab's, that made normal people cower in fear of the massive dog.

Cahab always searched for Bido. Months back Bido had attacked Cahab, shearing skin off his leg, causing an automatic infection, and sending him to the emergency room to be amputated. A prosthetic had been adhered to Cahab's stump, but the man would never stop seeking mad revenge on that cursed dog.

Cahab tightened his grip on his cane, whipping his head around in frantic search for the blasted beast. Neighbors watched him from their front porches and windows, wondering if he was even still lucid. They sipped their afternoon tea or coffee, and watched their neighbor and old-time friend sway down Newtucket Avenue.

That was when a white dog came out of an alley with a ball in his jaw, set it on the ground and lay down next to it like he was waiting for someone. Cahab had yet to notice him, and sat on the curb to rest. Every so often, someone would walk along behind him and he'd ask if they'd seen Bido, but they merely knew who Bido was and that he was a mutt that had to be detained.

Down the street, Bido finally lifted his head to see a little toddler with a bright pink dress and shiny black shoes looking in awe at him. He pushed the ball closer to her with his nose and she carefully petted Bido's muzzle. Cahab finally spotted the dog, and stood to go after him.

"Tuck," Cahab called to his stoic friend across the street. The man was just getting out of his car, wearing a fine suit and carrying a Starbuck's cup in his hand. "Help me get Bido!"

"This is ridiculous," Tuck replied. "Give it up, it's just a dog."

"What are your doing in my driveway?" the owner of the house they were in front of demanded.

"Sorry, Stup," Tuck sighed. "But Cahab is still going after Bido."

"I will help, Captain Cahab, sir!" Stup stiffened in a mock salute. "Hey Beaker!" he yelled next door, taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"What?" Beaker popped out of the window.

"Cahab wants us to help him with Bido," Stup replied.

"I can pay you!" Cahab pulled a few gold dollars out of his pocket, shining them to Beaker.

"Fine, yeah, I'm coming." They gathered many more people, including a new neighbor and his housemate, who was a terrifyingly large and dark-skinned man covered in tattoos smoking possibly the strangest looking pipe they'd ever seen. As soon as everyone had gathered, Cahab sent his mob forth to capture the White Dog.

"He's a slippery one, he is," Stup grumbled and crushed his cigar against the ground. "Let's get him!" The rest of the neighbors cheered.

"There are stories about that dog," a tall native-American man said quietly. "Stories that say he's killed people in other neighborhoods, and no matter what you do to him, he stays alive."

"So I've heard," Cahab kept running after the large dog. "But I will kill that dog. Even if it's the last thing I ever do."

At that, each person, no matter how connected to Cahab, turned to him and tried to decipher whether he was insane or if he was just dedicated. They came to a conclusion that they would never know, and just kept on chasing that blasted White Dog. They were getting paid, after all.