THE GREAT DANE NAPPING
Author's Note: Scooby-Doo and all related characters and elements are trademarks of their respective copyright holders. This is a not for profit, amateur work not intended to infringe upon the rights of the original copyright holders.
This is my first attempt at writing a Scooby fan-fic w/an actual mystery plot. It is rated PG-13 for some graphic scenes of animal torture and some language. The saddest part is that the animal torture sequences were based on an actual case investigated by the ASPCA in New York. The owner in that case was eventually tried and convicted of animal cruelty.
Chapter 1: Divorce
Judge Anthony Gabler walked into the courtroom, settling behind the bench that he had occupied for the last sixteen years. Those years had been anything but routine, and Judge Gabler wondered how many others in the legal profession could say they had tried and convicted a vampire, a giant chicken monster and a hoard of other Halloween carnival rejects. Most of those cases ended in the same manner-with the defendant being dragged out of the courtroom in handcuffs and threatening revenge on "those damn meddling kids." **What can I say? The middle aged man thought to himself. They're good; a lawyer couldn't ask for a better, more composed set of witnesses.
Judge Gabler broke from his daydream. "What's on the docket today, Joe?" he asked his foreman.
"Wyndham versus Whitney," the foreman replied. "Another nasty divorce case; looks like there is a custody battle involved in this one."
Anthony Gabler adjusted his bifocals. "Alert child protective services," he intoned, monotonously.
"Uh, your honor, this is not about a child."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's about a dog."
* * * * * * * * * *
Laura Whitney was not a born dog lover. She had gotten her first purebred dog at age eleven, and was immediately attracted to the glamorous world of dog shows, not for the sport, but for the prizes. While her childhood friends had been content with scouting merit badges, Laura would settle for nothing less than the giant silver cups and multi-colored rosette ribbons emblazoned with the kennel club's logo. And when she met Marc Wyndham ten years ago at the Harrisburg Kennel Club dog show, she knew she had found the ideal man to marry. Marc bred and showed Great Danes, and the instant Laura Whitney laid her eyes on the majestic animals, she knew that she would never want another tiny, yip-yap terrier again. A Great Dane would be the perfect trophy dog to show off to her friends, and no other dog could possibly suffice. And while Marc was actively involved in Great Dane rescue and breeding programs, Laura had little or no interest in bettering the breed or raising quality puppies; to her, a litter meant little more than a chance to charge potential owners hundreds of dollars for a champion dog's offspring. And when Laura had threatened to destroy an entire litter for lack of a show prospect puppy among them, Marc knew that he had had enough.
As the heavy oak doors opened, Laura walked into the courtroom, tugging a six foot leather leash, attached to which was a large, golden-yellow Great Dane. "Come on, dog," she scoffed. "I haven't got all day."
The dog resisted, with every inch and ounce of her thirty-inch, 120 pound frame. Laura shot her soon-to-be ex-husband a dirty look. "You can lend a hand here, you know," she called, sarcastically.
Marc Wyndham stepped in front of the judge's bench. "Come on, Kala," he called, softly. "Here girl."
The huge dog trotted over and sat obediently at the man's side, inciting another dirty look from the blonde woman.
"Wyndham versus Whitney, will the attorneys please step forward and make your cases."
* * * * * * * * * *
Daphne Blake sat in a high-back chair in her living room, quietly nursing her three-month old daughter, Victoria. So much had changed in her life in the last year; ever since finding out that she was pregnant, she spent more time with Fred, and less time with the rest of the gang. And once the little girl had been born, she immediately became the center of Daphne and Fred's lives.
Having finished her bottle, Victoria sighed contently, and settled into her mother's arms. As she rocked her daughter, Daphne glanced briefly at a photo on the end table and sighed. A significantly younger red haired girl and a tall, blond, sixteen-year old boy looked out from the frame; the two teens were flanked by a brown-haired girl with glasses and a lanky, mop haired boy. In front of the four humans sat a large, brown Great Dane with black spots on his coat. Daphne sighed nostalgically as she stared at the picture. **I miss those days, she thought, swallowing a lump in her throat and trying to keep from crying.
Satisfied that her daughter was sleeping soundly, Daphne walked upstairs, placed the little girl in her crib, then headed back downstairs for the kitchen. She didn't even notice her husband, Fred Jones, standing by the counter as he always did. Settling down at the kitchen table, Daphne placed her head on her hands and sighed. Her long, red hair draped on the table surface, obscuring her face from view.
The blond man approached the table and stood beside his wife. "Something wrong, Daph?" he asked, sympathetically.
Daphne raised her head briefly, but didn't look at Fred. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "Nothing."
The simplicity of her response belied the emotions she felt inside, and the blond man could detect that emotional supression in her tone of voice. Pulling up a chair, he sat down at the table and placed his arm around Daphne's shoulder. He leaned toward her, as if attempting to put his face underneath the curtain of red hair that hid her face. "No, really, I know something's bothering you; now why don't you tell me what it is?"
The red-haired woman sighed. Once again, her husband's power of persuasion had prevailed. "Oh, I don't know," she began. "I guess I just feel a little bogged down, that's all. Ever since Victoria was born, my life has been nothing but sleepless nights, baby formula and constant worry about whether or not I am a good parent." She lifted her head, this time making eye contact with the blond man. "We haven't spoken to Velma or Shaggy since before Victoria was born..." Daphne's voice trailed off, then she resumed with a sigh, "I guess I'm just lonely, that's all."
"Daphne, how can you possibly be lonely? You have me, we have Victoria...we're a family. What more could you ask for?"
"A chance to see our friends again would be nice."
Fred shook his head, silently, then walked off, leaving Daphne alone with her thoughts. He understood her feelings, but felt that he was powerless to do anything about them.
A sudden wave of reason swept through Fred's mind. No, he thought. He could do something. Running upstairs to his study, he picked up the phone and depressed the auto dial button.
* * * * * * * * *
"Do the plaintiffs wish to make any final comments?"
"What about the dog?" asked Laura.
"The dog shall remain the property of Mr. Marc Wyndham until further notice."
Laura was not satisfied with the judge's response. "Hey, wait a minute," she snapped. "I co-signed that registration form, that dog legally belongs to me as well!"
"It is the court's decision that the dog remain with Mr. Wyndham until further notice, and that is final."
Laura's face grew red with anger. "I'm her handler, dammit!" she screamed. "She's
a champion show dog. That stupid animal would be nothing without me!!"
Judge Gabler groaned. Right now he would have preferred a diatribe about meddling kids to this woman's tirade about her dog. "Order in my court!" he bellowed, banging his gavel. "We will re-examine this case one year from now; but for the time being, the dog will remain with Mr. Marc Wyndham." He banged his gavel on the desk, signifying the end of the case.
Joe dragged the screaming woman away. "Just you wait, mister," she yelled at her husband. "I'll see to it that you never see that dog again!!"
Judge Gabler sighed. **Those petty criminals who dress like Halloween carnival rejects are calmer than this, he thought to himself.
* * * * * * * * * *
Moments later, Fred Jones returned to the kitchen where Daphne still sat with her head on the table. The blond man cleared his throat in a subtle suggestion. "You know, it is awfully nice out, today," he began. "Why don't we take Victoria for a walk in the park?"
Daphne hesitated.
"Come on, Daph, it'll do you some good to get out, you can't just sit in the house all day and mope."
The redhaired woman lifted her head and made eye contact with her husband. "If you don't mind, Frederick, I'll decide what's good for me." With a sigh, she returned to her previous position.
Fred tugged on his neckerchief, as he readied his second approach. "Come on, Daphne," he began. "you'd get a chance to show off your daughter.."
Daphne pondered this last comment as Fred readied his next one.
"...and you always love getting compliments on her, don't you? You can't do that if you're sitting in the house all day."
Daphne sighed, shaking her head in disgust. Once again, her husband's dictatorial persuasion had won out again. "Fine," she said, somewhat curtly. "go get her ready. I'll meet you outside, but don't expect me to enjoy myself."
**Oh, I'm pretty sure you will enjoy yourself once you find out what is waiting, Fred thought, confident in the success of his own plan.
Author's Note: Scooby-Doo and all related characters and elements are trademarks of their respective copyright holders. This is a not for profit, amateur work not intended to infringe upon the rights of the original copyright holders.
This is my first attempt at writing a Scooby fan-fic w/an actual mystery plot. It is rated PG-13 for some graphic scenes of animal torture and some language. The saddest part is that the animal torture sequences were based on an actual case investigated by the ASPCA in New York. The owner in that case was eventually tried and convicted of animal cruelty.
Chapter 1: Divorce
Judge Anthony Gabler walked into the courtroom, settling behind the bench that he had occupied for the last sixteen years. Those years had been anything but routine, and Judge Gabler wondered how many others in the legal profession could say they had tried and convicted a vampire, a giant chicken monster and a hoard of other Halloween carnival rejects. Most of those cases ended in the same manner-with the defendant being dragged out of the courtroom in handcuffs and threatening revenge on "those damn meddling kids." **What can I say? The middle aged man thought to himself. They're good; a lawyer couldn't ask for a better, more composed set of witnesses.
Judge Gabler broke from his daydream. "What's on the docket today, Joe?" he asked his foreman.
"Wyndham versus Whitney," the foreman replied. "Another nasty divorce case; looks like there is a custody battle involved in this one."
Anthony Gabler adjusted his bifocals. "Alert child protective services," he intoned, monotonously.
"Uh, your honor, this is not about a child."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's about a dog."
* * * * * * * * * *
Laura Whitney was not a born dog lover. She had gotten her first purebred dog at age eleven, and was immediately attracted to the glamorous world of dog shows, not for the sport, but for the prizes. While her childhood friends had been content with scouting merit badges, Laura would settle for nothing less than the giant silver cups and multi-colored rosette ribbons emblazoned with the kennel club's logo. And when she met Marc Wyndham ten years ago at the Harrisburg Kennel Club dog show, she knew she had found the ideal man to marry. Marc bred and showed Great Danes, and the instant Laura Whitney laid her eyes on the majestic animals, she knew that she would never want another tiny, yip-yap terrier again. A Great Dane would be the perfect trophy dog to show off to her friends, and no other dog could possibly suffice. And while Marc was actively involved in Great Dane rescue and breeding programs, Laura had little or no interest in bettering the breed or raising quality puppies; to her, a litter meant little more than a chance to charge potential owners hundreds of dollars for a champion dog's offspring. And when Laura had threatened to destroy an entire litter for lack of a show prospect puppy among them, Marc knew that he had had enough.
As the heavy oak doors opened, Laura walked into the courtroom, tugging a six foot leather leash, attached to which was a large, golden-yellow Great Dane. "Come on, dog," she scoffed. "I haven't got all day."
The dog resisted, with every inch and ounce of her thirty-inch, 120 pound frame. Laura shot her soon-to-be ex-husband a dirty look. "You can lend a hand here, you know," she called, sarcastically.
Marc Wyndham stepped in front of the judge's bench. "Come on, Kala," he called, softly. "Here girl."
The huge dog trotted over and sat obediently at the man's side, inciting another dirty look from the blonde woman.
"Wyndham versus Whitney, will the attorneys please step forward and make your cases."
* * * * * * * * * *
Daphne Blake sat in a high-back chair in her living room, quietly nursing her three-month old daughter, Victoria. So much had changed in her life in the last year; ever since finding out that she was pregnant, she spent more time with Fred, and less time with the rest of the gang. And once the little girl had been born, she immediately became the center of Daphne and Fred's lives.
Having finished her bottle, Victoria sighed contently, and settled into her mother's arms. As she rocked her daughter, Daphne glanced briefly at a photo on the end table and sighed. A significantly younger red haired girl and a tall, blond, sixteen-year old boy looked out from the frame; the two teens were flanked by a brown-haired girl with glasses and a lanky, mop haired boy. In front of the four humans sat a large, brown Great Dane with black spots on his coat. Daphne sighed nostalgically as she stared at the picture. **I miss those days, she thought, swallowing a lump in her throat and trying to keep from crying.
Satisfied that her daughter was sleeping soundly, Daphne walked upstairs, placed the little girl in her crib, then headed back downstairs for the kitchen. She didn't even notice her husband, Fred Jones, standing by the counter as he always did. Settling down at the kitchen table, Daphne placed her head on her hands and sighed. Her long, red hair draped on the table surface, obscuring her face from view.
The blond man approached the table and stood beside his wife. "Something wrong, Daph?" he asked, sympathetically.
Daphne raised her head briefly, but didn't look at Fred. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "Nothing."
The simplicity of her response belied the emotions she felt inside, and the blond man could detect that emotional supression in her tone of voice. Pulling up a chair, he sat down at the table and placed his arm around Daphne's shoulder. He leaned toward her, as if attempting to put his face underneath the curtain of red hair that hid her face. "No, really, I know something's bothering you; now why don't you tell me what it is?"
The red-haired woman sighed. Once again, her husband's power of persuasion had prevailed. "Oh, I don't know," she began. "I guess I just feel a little bogged down, that's all. Ever since Victoria was born, my life has been nothing but sleepless nights, baby formula and constant worry about whether or not I am a good parent." She lifted her head, this time making eye contact with the blond man. "We haven't spoken to Velma or Shaggy since before Victoria was born..." Daphne's voice trailed off, then she resumed with a sigh, "I guess I'm just lonely, that's all."
"Daphne, how can you possibly be lonely? You have me, we have Victoria...we're a family. What more could you ask for?"
"A chance to see our friends again would be nice."
Fred shook his head, silently, then walked off, leaving Daphne alone with her thoughts. He understood her feelings, but felt that he was powerless to do anything about them.
A sudden wave of reason swept through Fred's mind. No, he thought. He could do something. Running upstairs to his study, he picked up the phone and depressed the auto dial button.
* * * * * * * * *
"Do the plaintiffs wish to make any final comments?"
"What about the dog?" asked Laura.
"The dog shall remain the property of Mr. Marc Wyndham until further notice."
Laura was not satisfied with the judge's response. "Hey, wait a minute," she snapped. "I co-signed that registration form, that dog legally belongs to me as well!"
"It is the court's decision that the dog remain with Mr. Wyndham until further notice, and that is final."
Laura's face grew red with anger. "I'm her handler, dammit!" she screamed. "She's
a champion show dog. That stupid animal would be nothing without me!!"
Judge Gabler groaned. Right now he would have preferred a diatribe about meddling kids to this woman's tirade about her dog. "Order in my court!" he bellowed, banging his gavel. "We will re-examine this case one year from now; but for the time being, the dog will remain with Mr. Marc Wyndham." He banged his gavel on the desk, signifying the end of the case.
Joe dragged the screaming woman away. "Just you wait, mister," she yelled at her husband. "I'll see to it that you never see that dog again!!"
Judge Gabler sighed. **Those petty criminals who dress like Halloween carnival rejects are calmer than this, he thought to himself.
* * * * * * * * * *
Moments later, Fred Jones returned to the kitchen where Daphne still sat with her head on the table. The blond man cleared his throat in a subtle suggestion. "You know, it is awfully nice out, today," he began. "Why don't we take Victoria for a walk in the park?"
Daphne hesitated.
"Come on, Daph, it'll do you some good to get out, you can't just sit in the house all day and mope."
The redhaired woman lifted her head and made eye contact with her husband. "If you don't mind, Frederick, I'll decide what's good for me." With a sigh, she returned to her previous position.
Fred tugged on his neckerchief, as he readied his second approach. "Come on, Daphne," he began. "you'd get a chance to show off your daughter.."
Daphne pondered this last comment as Fred readied his next one.
"...and you always love getting compliments on her, don't you? You can't do that if you're sitting in the house all day."
Daphne sighed, shaking her head in disgust. Once again, her husband's dictatorial persuasion had won out again. "Fine," she said, somewhat curtly. "go get her ready. I'll meet you outside, but don't expect me to enjoy myself."
**Oh, I'm pretty sure you will enjoy yourself once you find out what is waiting, Fred thought, confident in the success of his own plan.