The Bark Comes With Every Dog

The Bark Comes With Every Dog

Trailing by fifty feet now, refusing to run, but trying to catch up, through the parking lot...on the midway I am walking briskly. There is calliope music, smell of cotton candy, a diesel engine lugging as "The Bullet" carries its screaming load to the ride's zenith. The roller coaster cars make a knocking sound as they climb. Twenty two caliber rifle shots precede the dull plink of bullets, intermittently hitting little metal rabbits in their mechanical parade. "See the four headed calf, the tattooed lady, and Tom Thumb," the barker yells. It is all mixing in the crisp fall air. Charlie has suddenly stopped at the edge of a circle of people. Something's up. A fight, a heart attack? Something.
No. The man in greasy levis and a dirty sleeveless T shirt, holds a crowd’s attention. His right index and third fingers are inside a tiny puppet, a remarkable replica of a dog, a Shitzu. Its hair is waving as it barks furiously. Intermittently we can see the dog's eyes, when the hair is thrown back from its face. Charlie and I are now part of this spellbound crowd. The man plays the shabby master grasping at the miniature dog which appears to leap toward a pretty girl in the front row. She gives a startled half of a scream. The carny's smile is accentuated by his missing left upper incisor. He struggles to control his tiny dog as he passes along the front row of the little crowd. We know that it is a puppet but it becomes somehow real--some kind of dwarf. It can't be. It's only the size of a tennis ball, and it has ten identical twins for sale, fixed in rows to the card board palette in his left hand. That barking. The barking does it. The bark is authentic. It makes the show... and the sales. We are cynics. Yet...This carny is taking us in. The growling and barking brings the dog to life. It is magic. Figure it out. Watch the carney carefully, especially his mouth. His lips part ever so slightly in a half smile but they do not move, even when the dog is moving vigorously. His Adam's apple is similarly fixed and still. We can't tell where the bark is from, his mouth or the dog.
"Take the little dog home," he says in a gravelly voice. "Three dollars. Get your little dog right here."
"Do they all bark?" a ten year old blonde girl blurts out her unabashed challenge. "Like that one?" she points to the dog on his finger.
"I think the man does it, Mandy," her mother explains.
He holds the dog down close. As she reaches to touch it, it barks furiously just as before, then goes for her nose. She ducks.
"The bark comes with every dog," he explains in a reassuring tone.
A woman in the second row nods her head. The hawker is drawn to the sound of her opening purse. "So it will bark...when I get it home...if he shakes it like that?"
"The bark comes with every dog," he rasps solicitously.
"It's for my grandson," She explains.
He puts the dog in a zip lock plastic bag, seals it, and takes her money.
"Amazing. The guy is a good. Isn't he?" A brazen showman himself, Charlie appreciates the performance. "Dogs are cute aren't they?"
"Wait a minute! You don't believe it barks...do you?" I ask.
"Come on, Walker." He is walking away shaking his head. "Jesus," he says in disgust. "You never believe anything. He said the dogs bark. Let's go."
"He didn't say the dogs bark."
The eyes of the crowd are now on Charley and me, our argument. I am embarrassed.
I'm not sure where that bark comes from. But that line is a masterpiece. It is the backbone of his business... It is always true. It means anything you want it to mean whether you are the speaker or the listener. It is a true and perfect answer to any question. The carny delivers it so carelessly--so effectively. I can't let it go.
"Just a minute," I tell Charlie.
"Hurry up." Charlie isn't interested anymore. For him the question had been asked and answered.
"Suck your thumb and make the dog bark." I tell the carnival man.
He holds up the palette of dogs in his left hand and the performing Shitzu puppet on his right. He shrugs his shoulders to show me that he has no free thumb to suck.
"Can I hold the dog?" I point to the dog. "I want to make it bark myself."
"Sure," he says beginning to take a dog from the palette. "Three dollars please," he rasps.
"First, let me hold it."
He can't believe I am so soft headed. Disgusted, he re-attaches the dog to the palette.
"Come on, Walker. The dog barks. Give it a rest. Let's go," Charley said impatiently.
"Look," I say to the carny. "It's clear you take pains to avoid lying." As I take three dollars from my wallet, I say, "Say: 'The bark is inside the dog’, and I'll buy a dog."
"The bark comes with every dog.” the carny said.
As I return the money to my wallet, Charlie's mouths drops. He tilts his head tilts back and smiles, then whispers, "Right. The bark comes with every dog."
We turn and continue down the midway.