Travel Schlepp Rescues Karl

Karl likes animals but Debbie loves them.  She has two poodles and a Dalmatian and three horses.  She had a 17-year old chow-chow named Bear. (Being a Schlepp Bear myself, I particularly liked the name). 
     People in big cities like Vienna sometimes aren't very friendly to strangers.  So imagine our surprise one evening coming back from the VIC when a pretty lady on a bicycle rides up with a Dalmatian running along side and a teddy bear over her shoulder.  Of course Debbie just had to pet the Dalmatian.  Her name was Frenja and she immediately was very friendly. 
     The next thing I know, Frenja has invited us to a goulash dinner at a restaurant up the street.  Then she takes us for a walk through the historic first district. 
     All this seemed innocent enough, but her teddy bear wasn't a real teddy bear but a backpack with straps and a zipper so you could put stuff inside him.  And Frenja did strange things like stopping to photocopy papers at the hotel or all of the sudden making a long phone call.  Plus she had no accent at all for someone from Austria.  She spoke perfect English. 
     It was all such a coincidence that I was beginning to get suspicious.  Then Debbie leaned over and whispered, "Isn't this a little strange?  The dog, the teddy bear, the papers, the phone call?  And she's just too friendly." 
     Right then I figured I'd better watch out double careful.  Something wasn't right. 

It was later that night when Karl was fast asleep that it happened.  I was tucked in, too, but I couldn't sleep, worrying about the strange lady. 
    The door, which was locked tight, clicked softly and then quietly, slowly opened.  Someone was coming into the room. 
     By the light filtering in past the curtains I could just make out the shape of the intruder.  The midnight visitor was a dog! 
     It had to be the Dalmatian. 
     I pretended to be asleep but watched the dog carefully.  He went into the bathroom.  I crept up and peeked in.  He had opened a bottle of aspirin and was putting some white pills inside. 
     I ducked back to the bed and waited.  I heard the door gently close.  The dog was gone. 

I hustled into the bathroom and opened the aspirin bottle.  All the little white pills looked the same.  What had the dog done?  Poison?  Sleeping pills?  Some exotic super-spy drug? 
     There was no way to be sure which pills were the dangerous ones, so I just emptied them all down the drain.  Karl probably wouldn't believe me if I told him.  I just sat there in bed and listened all night long for the sound of the Dalmation returning, but he never did.