The Pug of the Opera
Erik was almost disappointed that he didn't need any of his well-considered explanations when he went for a walk dressed as a grieving widow near one of the flats of the managers' mistresses. Nobody spoke to him and nobody recognised Beau. Apparently the disguise was almost too perfect. What really bothered him was that women's shoes - even in the right size - were extremely uncomfortable and hurt his feet every time. He was glad when he could put his normal clothes back on.
The result of his observations was that the young lady and the young gentleman could certainly not be consultants. Nobody visits consultants late at night and brings them presents on a regular basis. Among business people, reciprocal gifts on special occasions were quite common, but certainly not on every visit. Erik was also soon convinced that they could not be secret children of the managers; the nature of the visits and the gifts they brought with them did not fit with such a suspicion. He was probably right in thinking that they were the mistresses. But of course he couldn't know exactly what was going on behind closed doors and he didn't really want to know. It was enough that he had a notebook full of incriminating evidence - and proof in the books of the opera - to call in a favour or two from them if necessary.
But none of this would help if Christine couldn't overcome whatever it was that was holding her back. But what could that be? She could sing perfectly, she could do everything, she had a perfect voice, the perfect technique for her, she could do it. The only time she couldn't do it was when she sang in front of others, when her technique and voice were still right, but then she sang completely differently - as if she suddenly switched on and off that special talent that made her exceptional, that made her stand out from the rest of the singers, like an electric light. Unfortunately, she always switched it on when she was alone, during singing lessons or when she was sure that it didn't matter how she sang, but whenever she had a chance to show off her outstanding talent, she switched it off again.
Erik was at a loss. He could not figure it out. It had nothing to do with her voice, her hearing, her talent, her technique.
In his helplessness, he decided to tell his old friend - whom he would never call a friend openly - about the problem during one of the obligatory walks with Beau. The Daroga knew by now that Erik worked as a singing teacher for Christine Daae and, even if Daroga wouldn't admit it, he was happy for Erik. Erik was able to use at least a little of his musical talent and, even if only as a tutor and not on stage himself, show and pass on some of it.
"She can do it - she really can!" Erik lamented for the umpteenth time, "She just can't do it when it counts."
The Daroga sighed. There were advantages to speaking a foreign language. They talked undisturbed in the park while Beau sniffed happily at all sorts of bushes and ran around the two men, so that Daroga - who was not used to walking a dog and taking care not to get tangled in a leash - almost tripped over it.
The Daroga had no answer. He didn't know much about music and singing. He knew good music when he heared it, but that was that. You do not need to be an expert in music just to visit the opera. "You have asked that so often, what makes you think I had any answer for you?" he asked.
"You know more about women than I do," Erik replied.
"Well, then, I know about the women I knew - I do not know about her. Women are very different from each other. What one woman loves might be another's worst nightmare."
"Since when have you become a philosopher?" Erik grumbled, "Not that you are helping. Beau is much more helpful."
Beau didn't give a damn what anyone else did, who saw him or what they would think of him, he was looking for the perfect place to relieve himself. He went into one of the beautifully arranged flowerbeds, turned around a few times and pooped. "Good boy, good boy, very good boy, Beau!" Erik praised Beau.
The Daroga looked aside embarrassed. How could Erik praise his dog with such enthusiasm for publically pooping in a flowerbed in the park? Erik seemed oblivious to the amused and disgusted stares from the people around them. He only had eyes for Beau. The Daroga could not understand how Erik could be so excited that his pug relieved himself. The dog answered nature's call, no more, no less. "Are you going to write an aria about a pooping pug?" the Daroga grumbled.
Erik laughed. "Maybe. But you have to admit that Beau is so very cute, even if he's pooping."
The Daroga laughed. Yes, somehow it was cute. The gardeners wouldn't think so, especially because Beau tried to bury it, but that meant he threw soil and one of the flowers around, but didn't cover anything that needed to be covered.
Erik laughed. "Beau's such a clown."
That moment a man with a huge black dog came to the park. Beau saw the dog which was at least six times his weight and the pug started barking loud. Beau barked and growled and stared at the other dog, pulling on his leash. The other dog looked at Beau, at first surprised, then, as the owner came closer to Erik, the Daroga and Beau, the larger dog pulled his tail between his legs and leaped forward, pulling his owner with him. Obviously Beau had successfully managed to scare off the much larger and heavier dog, much to Erik's delight.
"He's very self-confident, isn't he?" the Daroga laughed, "That black beast of a dog could have shredded Beau to pieces within a few seconds."
"Yes, but he didn't know that. Among dogs, a good bluff can win the war. And not only among dogs..." Erik explained and chuckled. Yes, a good bluff could be everything. "Beau has the perfect attitude. He thinks he's the largest dog in town. He keeps challenging larger dogs, even horses and once even a steamengine. Guess what? The steam engine left in a hurry and Beau knew he had won."
"He'd be dead if you didn't keep protecting him."
"Quite so, but he knows nothing bad can happen as long as I am there to protect him. Wait - Daroga! Beau is a genius! That's it! Self-Confidence. Beau is so self-confident, he does not acknowledge that he could do anything wrong or anything bad could happen to him. He can do that because he knows that I am always there to protect him! I won't let anything happen to him! I think that is precisely what Christine lacks - self confidence. So if self-confidence is the key to unlock her talent, how can I give her that? Praise doesn't work, I've already tried that, but... what else could possibly work?"
"Erik, are you talking to me or to Beau or to yourself?" the Daroga asked confused, "You are speaking Farsi, so I guess you adress me, because you always talk in French to Beau, but... right now I am not sure if you really care about any answer?"
"Never mind. Thank you for your help. O, Beau, look, there's Amelie!"
Beau immediately started pulling on his leash to get to a poodle and an elderly woman.
"You know her?" The Daroga asked astonished. Erik wasn't a man who easily made acquiantances.
"Whom? Amelie? Yes, she's three years old and difficult to groom..."
"So Amelie is the dog. And the owner is...?"
"I don't remember her name."
As the two dogs happily greeted each other, the woman excitely greeted Beau, complimenting Beau about his new collar.
"She does not know your name either, does she?" The Daroga asked.
"No, why would she? I'm Beau's owner, she's Amelie's owner, that's all we need to know," Erik explained.
The Daroga wondered if dog owners were a litte crazy.
When Erik returned to his flat beneath the opera house he asked Beau: "How does one get self-confidence? We cannot buy a portion of self-confidence at a drug store, can we? Maybe... maybe we should take her for a walk eventually. Just talk with her, let her tell stories about herself. She loves talking to you, Beau, I am just the one holding your leash - maybe I learn something from listening in?"
Beau jumped on the couch and sat on the finest pillow, waggling his tail happily.