Chapter 4

Chapter Four : The Great Woollen Ball Mystery

There are some crimes that require planning.

Some require intelligence.

Some require an accomplice.

And then there are crimes committed by Topsy.

Those required nothing except opportunity.

It had been only a short time since he had come home, but by then we had already learned one important rule:

Never leave anything interesting within Topsy's reach.

Unfortunately, we did not always follow our own rules.

One day, the whole family had to go out.

There was nothing unusual about it. We had some work to do, and we expected to be gone for only about an hour.

Topsy remained at home.

At that time, we still believed that an hour was not long enough for anything serious to happen.

That belief lasted exactly until we returned.

The moment we entered the house, something looked wrong.

Nobody could immediately explain what it was.

There was a strange feeling in the room.

Then we saw it.

Wool.

Everywhere.

A woollen ball had been completely destroyed.

Threads were spread across the floor.

Some were tangled around furniture.

Others had travelled into different parts of the room.

It looked as if a tiny storm had passed through the house carrying nothing except wool.

We all stood there.

Silent.

Looking at the disaster.

My first thought was that perhaps a cat had somehow entered the house.

Maybe it had fought with something.

Maybe something had happened while we were gone.

There had to be an explanation.

And then someone asked the most important question:

"Where is Topsy?"

Silence.

We looked around.

No Topsy.

That was suspicious.

Very suspicious.

We started searching.

We called his name.

"Topsy!"

Nothing.

Again.

"Topsy!"

Still nothing.

At this point, our concern increased.

Had he somehow escaped?

Had he injured himself?

Was he hiding somewhere?

We checked the rooms.

Nothing.

Then we heard something.

A small noise.

It seemed to be coming from underneath a bed.

Everyone stopped.

We looked down.

And there he was.

Topsy.

Hiding underneath the bed.

Only his face was visible.

He looked terrified.

Not injured.

Not sick.

Terrified.

It was almost as if he knew exactly what he had done.

I looked at the destroyed wool.

Then at Topsy.

Then back at the wool.

The mystery had been solved.

The criminal was found.

And the criminal was approximately the size of a small pillow.

For a moment, nobody said anything.

Topsy remained completely still.

His eyes moved from one person to another.

He seemed to be waiting for his punishment.

My mother finally bent down.

"Topsy."

He didn't move.

She reached underneath the bed.

He moved farther back.

She reached again.

He tried to retreat.

But there was nowhere left to go.

Eventually, she managed to pull him out.

The moment he emerged, we all started laughing.

He had the face of someone who had just been caught committing the most serious crime imaginable.

His ears were slightly lowered.

His body was tense.

He looked at us as though he couldn't understand why we were laughing.

Perhaps he had expected shouting.

Perhaps he had expected punishment.

Instead, he got a room full of people trying desperately not to laugh.

My mother looked at him and shook her head.

"Don't worry. I'm not angry."

Topsy's expression changed almost immediately.

His body relaxed.

He looked around.

Then, as if the entire incident had been resolved, he went about his business.

No apology.

No explanation.

No regret.

Nothing.

I remember thinking that perhaps dogs simply didn't understand the concept of guilt the way humans did.

Or perhaps Topsy understood it perfectly and had simply decided not to participate.

We began cleaning up.

The wool seemed endless.

Every time we picked up one piece, we found another.

It had travelled into places where wool had no business being.

The destruction was impressive.

We tried to imagine how one tiny puppy had managed to accomplish all of it in less than an hour.

The answer was obvious.

Topsy had been working very hard.

He had probably started with one innocent pull.

Then another.

Then another.

And at some point, he had apparently decided:

"Well, we've come this far."

So he continued.

I can almost imagine him sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by wool, looking at his work with satisfaction.

Perhaps he thought he had improved the house.

Perhaps he believed we would thank him.

Perhaps he simply enjoyed the sensation of pulling something apart.

Whatever the reason, he had created a masterpiece.

A terrible masterpiece.

After we finished cleaning, the house looked normal again.

But we were different.

We had learned our first serious lesson about Topsy.

He could not be trusted around anything that could be pulled, chewed, dragged, stolen or destroyed.

And unfortunately, that included a very large portion of our belongings.

The incident became one of those family stories that we kept bringing up.

Whenever someone left something lying around, someone would say,

"Keep it away from Topsy."

And everyone would laugh.

Topsy, of course, had no idea why his name kept appearing in conversations.

He simply continued living his life.

Walking around the house.

Following people.

Eating.

Sleeping.

Playing.

And searching for his next opportunity.

But there was something funny about that incident that stayed with me.

He had been genuinely frightened when he hid underneath the bed.

He wasn't afraid because he had destroyed the wool.

He was afraid because he thought we would be angry with him.

And the moment my mother told him she wasn't angry, he relaxed.

That tiny moment revealed something about him.

He was naughty.

Very naughty.

But he loved us.

And he cared about our reactions.

He didn't want to be separated from us.

He wanted to be close.

Even when he had done something ridiculous.

Perhaps especially then.

Because Topsy had already begun to understand one important thing about our family:

He could cause trouble.

We might scold him.

We might chase him.

We might laugh at him.

But at the end of the day, he belonged with us.

And we belonged with him.

That day, the woollen ball was destroyed.

But nothing truly important was lost.

Instead, we gained another story.

Another memory.

Another piece of the strange little personality that was beginning to make Topsy impossible to forget.

Of course, we had no idea that the woollen ball was only the beginning.

Topsy had many more ideas.

And unfortunately for us, he was getting better at executing them.