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The Dog Whisperer

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 Summary:  Just after the case of the cockroach hysteria,
Scully's dog Queequeg reacts strangely while on an outing
through an old neighborhood. Why?



Rated: PG mild.

Category: Missing Scene, MT, Investigation

Spoilers: War of the Cophorages, Clyde Bruckman's Final
Repose.

Summary: Just after the case of the cockroach hysteria,

Scully's dog Queequeg reacts strangely while on an outing
through an old neighborhood. Why?

Feedback: Sure! patfiler2016@outlook.com

Archive: Gossamer. Anyone
else please ask me first via e-mail.

Disclaimer: All people and properties X-Files are
copyrightowned by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions
and Fox Studios.Anything or anyone else I may dream up
is mine, mine, MINE! No money made; no copyright infringement
intended.

Author's Note: Written for Mulder's Refuge July, 2006 Fic
Contest Theme: Missing Scene. It went unchallenged.

It is now 2009, November too, and I forgot to post this here!
So, because I found it at Gossamer, I decided it deserved to
be on this site. Read on!

Why Scully had named the dog 'Queequeg' was quite simple:
Her favorite book was 'Moby Dick', frequently read to her by her
father during childhood. Besides, Dad nicknamed young Dana
Scully 'Starbuck' and she referred to him as 'Ahab'. Well,
'Ahab' had died, and sometimes she thought of Mulder as an
'Ahab'.

The sad fact was that Scully had acquired the dog after one
keenly psychic Clyde Bruckman committed suicide after the
resolution of a serial murder investigation. She had become
accustomed to the dog, bathed him, walked him, considered
him hers. There were times when she had to go out of town
and place Queequeg in a kennel, times when the weather
wasn't the greatest for those much needed outings, but at
least thedog was company. They had grown on each other.

This particular evening was cold, rainy and windy. Nevertheless,
Queequeg needed walking and Scully needed the fresh air to
keep her alert and preferably clear headed, because she had a
long report to write up. Mulder was writing his own by now, and the
thought of that Bambi Berenbaum was probably dancing in his
head while Scully, on the other hand, was still shaking her head at
the pesticide induced hysteria that had overtaken a small town.

For some reason, Queequeg chose to lead Scully down a street
three blocks from the usual park, and past the oldest, yet most
stately houses in Georgetown. As Scully was remembering the
disgusting dung explosion, Queequeg led her up the steps of
what seemed to be a regular, ninety-five-year-old house -- the
type with no driveway and an old wooden porch swing.

Scully tugged at the leash. "Queequeg! No! This is private property,
and you know you're not allowed to do this!" But the dog stopped
at a woven doormat and sniffed at the door, whimpering. "No, now
you know we have to get back home," she said quietly, so as not to
disturb anyone who might have been home, even though the lights
seemed to be out. After a couple of moments, she took the dog
into her arms and marched back down the sidewalk. "I think we've
gone far enough. Now, let's get our exercise, you do your
business and we'll go home."

Queequeg slowly and reluctantly trotted alongside his mistress,
looking back at the house every couple of seconds and whining.
"I haven't got all night and I'm tired, you know. Look, I'm sorry
I had to leave you alone, but I had a job to do. Now, let's have
our walk and go home," Scully quietly told the dog. "Clyde, if
you were alive I'd give anything if you could have just stayed
that way. Well, wherever you are, I wish you had left a list of his
personality traits. C'mon boy. I need to start on the Hudson
case."

The following night, the dog led Scully down the same street, right
up to the same Victorian era house and once again sat at the door,
sniffing and whimpering.

"What is it about this house? Is there another dog here or
something? C'mon, tomorrow's a work day, then we have all
weekend to go wherever you want to go and see whatever it is
you're so interested in."

Queequeg looked up at Scully imploringly.

"I'm sorry, but as a Federal Agent, I just can't go trespassing
and neither can you. Come on." Try as she did, she could not get
the dog to move this time. Thursday night and she was beat. The
travel, the reports, the backlog of paperwork and the stress of
the past few days had her ready to call in sick the next day and
hire a dog walker while she slept for a blissful ten or even
twelve hours. That's what she was thinking as the dog sat and
sniffed. Then her cell jingled. "Scully." Great. She dropped her
poop and scoop bag and had to bend down to get it
.
"It's Mulder. I tried to get you at home but -- "

"I'm out with Queequeg. What's up?"

"I just thought you might like to read over the receipts so we
can get them right to Accounting first thing in the morning.
Then I was hoping to get everything I can on the Millie Hudson
file before Monday. Is that okay with you?"

"Well, it would be. If I weren't so exhausted and Queequeg
would stop trespassing on this house we're looking at, I'd be
freed up, but since I'm not, and I'm soaked AND tired, I have to
say no."

Mulder chuckled. "You're looking at a house? I didn't know you
were thinking of buying a house."

"No, Mulder. I'm being led around by the nose by a dog I barely
understand, and this is the second night we've been here.
There's no explanation I can think of, and we haven't gone down
this street until last night."

"Maybe the dog's psychic." Mulder grabbed a piece of pizza.
"After all, his previous owner was."

"That's absurd Mulder, and you know it. Wait a minute, maybe
youdo believe that sort of thing, but I don't."

"Stranger things have happened since you've been working with
me. Maybe this is one of those strange things."

"That's not funny. Look, I'm really tired, and I'm about ready
to go home. We can talk about this in the morning." Now not
only did she have a stubborn dog to contend with, but the ever
open-minded Mulder with his ridiculous blather and theories.

"Did I say something to piss you off?"

"No, not any more than usual. I'm just tired, that's all. I'll
see you in the morning." She clicked off before Mulder could
say another word.

While he looked at his phone, then hung up, Scully once again
picked the dog up and walked home. "I'm going to break you of
this habit whether you like it or not. I don't care if Rin Tin
Tin himself or Lassie lives in that house. I'm the master,
you're the dog."

OFFICE OF THE X-FILES
NEXT DAY
8:32 AM

Mulder was at the office early as usual when Scully arrived and
removed her coat. "How's Queequeg?" There was a touch of
amusement in his voice Scully did not find funny.

"Don't go there, Mulder. I'm sure it's just something I can stop
with a little training and let's get to the receipts and that new
case so we can go home early for a change."

"You really were tired last night." Mulder stacked a few invoices.
"Queequeg's wearing you out!"

"Never mind. Let's get down to business. I'm getting a coffee.
Would you like a refill?"

"I think I'll pass." Mulder sat down and tapped his fingers on his
desk. After Scully had read a few receipts and bills, he decided
to break the stone cold silence that had overtaken the office. "I
know someone who may be able to help."

Scully's mind was on her work. "With the expenses or Milly
Hudson?" She didn't even look up at her partner.

"No. I mean with Queequeg."

"I already have the number of a good obedience school, and
I'm not even going to ask about any of your off-beat, so-called
'experts', if that's what you have in mind."

Mulder shook his head and looked at the ceiling momentarily,
then at his coffee. "Not all of my experts are 'off-beat',
Scully. Well, maybe a couple are a bit out of the ordinary, but
I do know a dog whisperer who can... "

Scully looked up from her files in amazement and grinned. "A
'dog whisperer'? Mulder, that's preposterous! You're having your
fun, and I know it's Friday, but don't pull that on me!" She thought
about it a moment as Mulder stared at her, and her curiosity got
the better of her.

She dropped her arms and asked, "Okay. What exactly is a 'dog
whisperer' and how bizarre do we have to behave to get this dog
away from that house? I'm beginning to think that flea shampoo
has been messing with that dog's head, just as the bug spray did
a number on that town. One more thing: Does this in any way
have to do with another Bambi Berenbaum?"

Mulder shook his head in disbelief. "You're still going to harp
on Bambi Berebaum? Scully, she was an expert in her field and
that's all. The person I'm talking about comes highly
recommended in pet circles... "

"Like your friends who frequent the crop circles circles, no
doubt."

"Go ahead, laugh. I just want you to be open to this. Besides,
you don't want to be going to the same house every night until
someone starts asking questions."

"No, I don't. We can talk about this later. We have to get this
down, Mulder. I know you didn't sleep a heck of a lot while you
were investigating the dung beetles people assumed were
roaches."

By the time 3:30 rolled around, all bills, receipts, invoices,
damages and reports had been compiled and sent to the
Accounting department.

Scully added a comment to the end of her report on the case
as Mulder looked through his Rolodex. "Strange, isn't it?
I mean how life seems to drop things right into your lap,
or in our case, blasts dung all over your clothes, and you
inherit a dog from someone you didn't really know,"

"Well, it's a dirty job, but some body's got to do it. Methane.
Some day maybe we'll get past the need for gasoline. Now, I
have the number here of that dog whisperer I told you about.
What do you say we have him see Queequeg tomorrow
and... "

Scully looked up from her file and shook her head, "Oh no.
All that dog needs is some obedience upgrading. It's not
looking for a mate, revisiting a place it once inhabited
in a former life as a dog or otherwise, and I am not going to
indulge you in a reunion with one of your odd-ball buddies."

"Well, I am offering to help, Scully. Think of it this way:
It'll get you out of doing laundry until Sunday. I have
nothing on my calendar for tomorrow, and I am offering to
help with this." He walked around the desk to Scully,
getting almost too close for comfort, and whispered:"I won't
tell a soul you've got a weirdo psychic dog who may have
been reincarnated for the purpose of... "

Scully threw up her hands. "All right! Call your crazy crony
and make an ass of yourself and me. But I'm warning you,
Mulder: This dog is no X-File and you are not going to make
another part of my life one! Understood?"

"Well then, you could do your laundry tonight... Mine too if
you want... " He made his get-away before Scully could get
him with a scrunched up piece of paper.

"Not. I'm finished for the day." She rose and grabbed her
coat, moving in close to Mulder and whispering, "Gotta get
that washing machine going." As she turned on her heels
and silently counted to three, there was that dreaded one-liner.
"Maybe Queequeg can help fluff and fold!" Mulder quipped,
as Scully slammed the door. "Poor sport." He returned to his
desk and dialed out. "Hello. May I speak to Mark Hanson?
Thank you."


DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
SATURDAY MORNING
9:37 AM

Scully was just finishing drying dishes when there was a
familiar knock at her door. Mulder's knock. "It's open!"
She placed the dish towel on the counter and went to meet
her partner and his 'dog whisperer'.

"Agent Dana Scully, this is Mark Hanson, certified canine
psychologist and a dog whisperer."

Scully shook the man's hand reluctantly. "Nice to meet you.
Please have a seat, Would either of you like some coffee?"
While both men nodded, Scully suddenly remembered there
had been a man just like him on a late night infomercial. "I've
seen you before. Of course:'Fifteen Day Course To Read
Your Dog.' On video and DVD. For a lot of... "

"Well, yes. But the cost is well worth it. Dogs do have
their individual quirks, but they also have personalities
that we can understand and help form," the grey-haired man
explained.

"But not fish," Mulder put in. "So where is the little guy,
Scully?"

"He's sleeping at the end of my bed. The sun hits right
there at this time of the morning. I'll bring the sugar
and milk. So, Dr. Hanson, just how long have you been a
dog whisperer?" She set the tray on the coffee table and
poured coffee.

"Almost all of my life. About forty-three years. Ever since
I was a boy."

As Scully set the coffee pot on the tray, Queequeg ran into
the room and sat right beside the stranger. It was as though
he had an understanding of the man -- a sense that Hanson
was a kindred spirit. "Well, he most certainly likes you,"
Scully conceded. "Here boy."

The dog remained fixated on Hanson and ignored Scully.
The man petted Queegueg on the head. "You've had
something sad happen recently. I know you like your new
owner, and you know I understand."

One stunned Scully looked at Mulder. "Hey, I didn't tell
him a thing, Scully. Remember I told you Dr. Hanson is a
dog whisperer. Well, what I didn't tell you was that he
can sense a dog's emotions."

"Really?" Scully sipped her coffee. "Right. He can read
dogs' minds."

"I know you're sceptical, Agent Scully, but there are some
things I can sense. It's not like I see thoughts or words.
It's more like an emotional connection. When Queequeg
looked up at me, I felt a chill, then a sense of loss. That
tells me the dog loved his previous owner, and that that
person had a rather painful emotional life of his own."

"You're right," Mulder replied. "His owner could sense
when someone was about to die, and while we were
investigating a series of murders that man had foreseen,
he killed himself."

"This is all well and good for a party trick," Scully
scoffed. "And I'm sure Mulder has told you I'm a complete
sceptic about a lot of things, but how are you going to
help me break this dog of going up to that old house and
gaping and whining at the door?"

Mark Hanson looked Queequeg in the eyes for a moment.

"Well?"

"Queequeg needs to show us."

"Uh huh. He told you this. Mulder, this is the most... "

"You DO care about Queequeg's mental health, don't you?
And you want to break him of hanging around that house?"

"Yes, Mulder. But I believe the best way is obedience
school."

Hanson petted the dog reassuringly. "I'll help you both.
Let's walk that new route of his and find out what's
been happening. Just once? Then, if you're not happy
with the results, you can have a free lunch on me."

"See?" Mulder smiled. "Free lunch."

Scully thought for a moment. This seemed so far fetched
to her. There was no way a man could sense an animal's
experiences or thoughts. "Okay. I'll get his leash. Oh,
and I'm into alfalfa sprout salads, so Mulder, you're
going to learn all about them. Well, Doctor, what if
you're right?"

"If he's right," Mulder offered, "I will personally dog sit for you
when you go to church tomorrow. In fact, he can stay overnight
tomorrow at my place so you can get the rest of your
housework done."

Scully attached the leash to Queequeg's collar. "You're
on. Okay, Queequeg. Let's go."

***

Once again, this time at Scully's behest, Queequeg led
them to the old house, climbed the stairs, and stared at
the door whining.

Hanson looked at the dog. "What do you feel about the
house?"

He ignored Scully's whisper of "Spare me."

"It's okay. I know." Hanson looked at Mulder. "You were
right to call me in, because this has something to do with
the previous owner of the dog."

"Clyde Bruckman?" Mulder asked. Even he couldn't see
any connection.

"Dr Hanson, with all due respect, that man had no history
here. We went through his life story thoroughly," Scully
said, frowning and petting Queequeg.

Mulder sighed. "Is this an indirect or direct connection?"

"Indirect," Hanson replied quickly. "I feel there was a
tragic death here, and it does seem to have a link to a man
who had been in contact with your Mr. Bruckman."

Scully looked up again. "An insurance client or maybe a
relative?"

"A victim in one of the serial murders?" Mulder asked.

Hanson's face went white as he stared into the dog's
eyes. "A relative of the murderer."

"Puppet the bellboy," Mulder sighed. "What's the
connection? Let me just check the mailbox." He retrieved a
telephone bill."Mrs. Millie Puppet didn't pay her telephone bill,
Scully. This is connected to our missing person's case."

"How Mulder? Puppet's been in prison for months! Besides
that, it's a federal offence to tamper with mail!"

"Think of this: Millie Hudson, Millie Puppet. One guess as
to what Mom's maiden name was. I think we have just cause
here to enter the premises, and take a look around."

Hanson just looked on and occasionally nodded at the dog,
as though he understood Mulder and Scully and whatever
their dynamic was.

"Wait, Mulder. Before we even go in there, let's at least
go back to my place and see if a search finds a match for
the two names."

To Scully's surprise, Mulder nodded. "Fair enough."

***

SCULLY'S APARTMENT
11:15 AM

"It's a match," Scully announced. "Thank you, Dr. Hanson.
You've been a great help."

"Oh, I think Queequeg deserves the credit here, Agent Scully.
I merely translated for him. I have to be at my son's softball
game in two hours, so I'll just leave you two, or you three,
to do your work."

Mulder saw the man to the door. "I really appreciate this,
Mark. Thanks. Now we've got a lead on a current case as
well. That says something."

Hanson shook his head and smiled. "You're always a
workaholic, Fox. And thank YOU. Now I have another story for
my next book."

Scully hung up the phone just as Hanson was leaving. "That
was Skinner. He gave us the go ahead to enter the house."

"Let's go."

HUDSON RESIDENCE
11:45 AM

Needless to say, Mulder didn't have trouble forcing the old
lock on the front door of the old house. "Well, it's stood
up well over the years, Scully."

"It doesn't look like it's been lived in for years, Mulder. Wait.
Those footprints."

"I see them. A man's shoe. It's not exactly a fresh print,
but I think we can follow it." Mulder held a flashlight
as they made their way to the kitchen. There, in the midst
of long decayed food and an old newspaper lay the body
of one barely identifiable, save her clothes, female. There
was also a newspaper clipping about a series of murders.
A note was found beside it. Mulder read it aloud. "Dear Mom,
I'm sorry. I don't know why I do the things I do. I'll be by
tonight to say good-bye to you personally."

Scully felt queasy. "The stench, Mulder. Let's get the
body to the morgue and get the hell out of here. We've got
all we need here."

As she said that, a bat flew at Mulder, followed by a cat who had
obviously entered the house from the broken kitchen window. The
cat began to claw at Mulder, and Scully pulled out her service
revolver and shot it dead.

Scully knelt down to examine the scratches. "You okay,
Mulder?"

"Yeah. Want to see my etchings?"

"Well, as we don't know the health that cat was in... "

"Oh no. No, no, no...."

"Yes, Mulder. Until we can prove that this cat is not carrying
rabies, a shot in the abdomen every day, for fourteen days.
Oh, and don't thank me. Thank Queequeg."

"I know. And I guess I'm buying lunch."

Scully nodded.

"Alfalfa sprouts," Mulder dead-panned.

Scully nodded again. "All thanks to our guest partner,
Mulder. I'd say he's done a pretty good job tracking a
murder victim down. Mr. Bruckman would be quite
proud."

"Yeah, I guess this is Bruckman's revenge."



END





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