Work Text:
Lieutenant Columbo did not have a pleasant history with dogs. There were many occurrences throughout his life that proved dogs were not always “man’s best friend.” As a boy, he and his younger sister would have to face the mean mutt that stood outside of Mrs. Lombardi's house every day on their way to school. Being his sister’s protector, he would attempt to distract the dog as they both ran past. The old chill would still run down his spine whenever he encountered a large dog that looked like it had a mean glare. He had plenty of run ins since his childhood: huge guard dogs who were not happy to see the police, to spoiled yorkies who were rude for seemingly no reason. It was safe to say that he was not a dog person.
When he walked into the station that day, he was not happy to hear the click of dog nails across the floor. Standing in the doorway of the bull pen, he froze. He surveyed the area, craning his neck trying to see what foe had invaded his work. He suddenly came face to face with the mystery dog. Like a western showdown, the dog stood facing him at the other end of the room, still like Columbo. The dog was a droopy-eyed, saggy eared basset hound. Lifting his long snout upwards, the dog sniffed the air. He made his analysis. Columbo gulped. Logically, he shouldn’t be afraid of this dog. Its legs were stubby, and the bite wouldn’t even be effective due to its oversized cheeks. Still, Columbo’s palms began to sweat.
After making his assessment, the dog began to wag its tail quickly back and forth and waddled over to the man on the other side of the room. Columbo let out a sigh of relief. “Hello fella.” He said and gave the dog a polite pat on the head. He expected the dog to walk away and go back to whatever it was doing, but it continued to look at Columbo with its wide brown eyes. “He seems to like you!” Officer Brown walked in behind Columbo, startling the Lieutenant. “Yeah, he seems to heh. What’s he doin’ here? Who’s he belong to?” Columbo looked around the empty bullpen; no doubt everyone had gone to lunch. “Dunno. Mike said he found him on the stoop, someone left him here.”
“Poor guy. What’re we gonna do with ‘em?”
“I think they said they were gonna drop him off at the K-9 unit tomorrow if no one claims him.” Brown said. Columbo couldn’t imagine it being an attack dog, but maybe they could have him tracking scents. “What if that doesn’t work out?” The detective couldn’t help but admit that the hound’s big eyes were tugging at his heart strings. Brown shrugged and said, “To the pound I guess.”
“Oh.” Columbo said. He was surprised by the disappointment in his voice. “Chief still wants that report on that gardener.” Brown said, stepping around Columbo and the dog in order to get to his desk. Columbo slapped his hand to his forehead. “Right, right. Y’know, I knew I came here to work on something else today.” Now focused on a new objective, Columbo beelined for his office.
An hour or so later, he was finishing up typing his report. Now in the home stretch, Columbo carefully struck the keys on the typewriter; he wanted to rush in order to get it done like usual, but last time the chief made a remark about the number of dashed words. There was a small clawing sound that kept breaking his concentration, but it sounded similar to a problem the air conditioner had so he attempted to push through. His progress was once again interrupted by a knock at his door. “Come in.” He blew out a puff of smoke. Detective Wilson entered the room, along with the familiar sound of the dog paws on the tile floor. “Um Lieutenant, this dog was standing outside your door for quite some time, so I’d thought I’d see if you wanted him in here.” Wilson stood nervously in the doorway and watched the dog sniff around the office. “Uhm... Yeah that’s fine.” Columbo figured the dog couldn’t do much harm. Besides, he needed to get this finished. “Alright. Well, just come get me if you need me to take him from you because it looks like you’re very busy.”
“Will do Wilson.” Columbo gave him a cigar-in-mouth grin and Wilson smiled back.
After Wilson left the office, the dog made its way across the office with a skip in its step. Columbo watched as the dog plopped down right by his feet. The hound seemed to fall asleep almost immediately. After looking at the dog quizzically for a few moments, the lieutenant shrugged and went back to typing. Sure, it was odd that the dog seemed to really love Columbo, but it probably just smelled breakfast that lingered on Columbo’s clothes.
The rest of the afternoon went as Columbo had planned for the most part but it had dog moments sprinkled throughout: Columbo tripping and nearly falling over the dog at his feet as he attempted to get up from his desk was the most disruptive the dog had been all day. Around lunchtime, Columbo couldn’t help but break off a piece of his sandwich and give it to his new friend. By the end of the day, the dog had followed Columbo all around the office as he chit chatted and asked for follow-ups on questions to his fellow employees. When it was time to say goodbye, Columbo patted the dog on his side and gave him one last head scratch before leaving his new friend for the evening. Dog tried to follow him out to his car but with a laugh Columbo reminded him that he was the police’s dog now. It wasn’t until he was in his car and on the way home that the detective felt a pang of sadness as he remembered that the dog wouldn’t be there the next day. He was surprised that he had become so attached so quickly. Often, he had trouble making genuine, strong connections with anyone that wasn’t his family or his wife. Maybe it was the way that the dog seemed to trust him immediately or the fact that Columbo felt no pressure to make the dog like him that made them click instantly.
Over the stovetop while they were making dinner, Columbo proposed something to his wife. “A dog? Where did you get that idea?” Mrs. Columbo said, stirring the steaming pot of noodles. Columbo shrugged as innocently as he could while dicing up garlic. “You’ve never been a dog person. Ever. You always complain about big dogs, little dogs, all sorts that you see on cases.”
“I dunno it was just a thought I had.”
“Frank you’re not a subtle man, that’s why I married you. Now tell me what happened.” As well as Columbo could read others, Mrs. Columbo was even better at reading her husband. “There was a dog at work this morning that someone left on the front stoop.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Columbo’s voice softened with sympathy. “Yeah, poor fella. An’ he wasn’t any trouble, at all. He just laid around in my office all day.” Columbo slid the garlic into the pot of sauce and tasted it for inspection.
“Your office?”
“Yeah, he seemed to really like me.” Columbo smiled at the memory and the flavor of the sauce.
“Maybe he just liked the sandwich I packed for you in your pocket.”
“Can you blame him, Rosie?” Columbo placed his hand on his wife’s arm as he moved around her to grab the salt. “Maybe he can keep you company.”
“You keep me company.” She said. He offered the sauce spoon to her.
“I know but I jus’ feel bad working these hours hon. You’re by yourself so much... Good, right?” Columbo watched his wife’s face carefully as she tasted the sauce. He was the main chef in the house, but she was certainly the decider of what was good and what wasn’t. He was relieved when he saw her face light up.
“Mmm very good.” Columbo smiled with pride.
“I’ll think about it Frank.” Rosie brought the pot over to the sink and poured the noodles into a strainer. “I’m not against the idea, it’s just… unexpected that’s all.” The steam from the noodles rose and gave her face a glow.
“I’m jus’ full of surprises, aren’t I?” He said.
“Something like that hon.”
All was quiet in the Columbo household, a little too quiet. Both sat in bed, lights out, trying to be as still as possible in order not to wake the other one; when actually, in reality, both were unable to sleep. Once Frank Columbo got an idea in his head, it rolled around like a marble. When he would try to get his mind onto something else, it would rattle around the walls of his mind and demand attention. On the other hand, Rose Columbo was a bit of an insomniac, so she was awake regardless. She was tired of tossing and turning, so Rose thought she could go into the living room, watch television, and come back to the bedroom to try to fall asleep in an hour or so. She tossed the covers off as quietly as she could. Rose almost made it out the bedroom door before she heard her husband call her name gruffly. “Oh my God, you scared me. I thought you were asleep.”
“I thought you were asleep. Did I wake you?” Columbo peered at his wife’s silhouette.
“What’s botherin you?” Rose walked over and sat at the end of the bed. “I keep thinkin’ about that damn dog.” Columbo flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling fan going around and around. “The dog?”
“Mhm.” Well, it wasn’t just “the dog”, actually there were a lot of questions related to the dog that was keeping Columbo awake. Does Rose actually want the dog, or am I just convincing myself that she does? Would the dog even like living here? Could we take care of an animal? Would it drive us into debt? God, what if the dog doesn’t like me? What if it doesn’t like her?!
“Hon stop it. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” Rose said. “I think it would be a good idea Frank, honest.” She laid a comforting hand on his chest as it fell up and down. "Tell me more about the puppy." Rose said.
"He's… he's friendly. And gentle. And he's not young, but he's not quite an old man either. He's got these short legs and a long tail, and real floppy ears-"
"Sounds like someone I know."
"Hey- well… I can see where you're comin' from heh! I dunno he just seemed to like me, and I know he would like you too."
"I'm sure he will. And you know what I thought? If he doesn't seem like a right fit for us, we can see if George would want to watch him." Columbo smiled with relief at his wife's suggestion. "You keep me sane Rose, I swear" he hummed.
Columbo could already hear the calls of the animals inside the shelter as he pulled into the parking lot. The sheer noise of the numerous dogs made him anxiously reach into his pockets in search of a cigar. He went back and forth on whether or not to light it as he walked up to the entrance to the animal shelter. Deciding on just chewing on it, he strolled into the building. The smell hit him straight in the face, making him lean his head back slightly in surprise. “Sure smells like a dog in here, huh?” He said to the man at the front desk in an effort to make a joke to ease his nerves. “Well, one would think so.” The man did not find Columbo amusing. Brushing off the employee’s blank face Columbo decided to ask about what he came for. “I heard that you have a dog here from the police station? I’m thinkin’ of adopting him.”
“We have a basset hound. Is that what you were thinking of?”
“Erm…” Columbo scratched his head. “Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know what it’s called. But he had big floppy ears, a real sort of floppy face?" Columbo took the cigar out of his mouth in order to gesture the dog's shape and characteristics in the air. "Cute fella, he’s white and brown?”
“A basset.” the man said with a deadpan expression.
“Yeah, sure.” Columbo nodded and smiled with the cigar back between his teeth. The employee came out from behind the desk and went into the room down the hall without a word. Columbo nervously traced circles on the floor with his shoes as he tried to remind himself that this was his idea and that this was a good idea. After a moment or two, the door opened and out came the lieutenant’s friend. The dog pranced over to Columbo and happily wagged its tail. He leaned his side into Columbo, asking for pats and scratches.
“He likes you.” The employee said, walking back behind the desk. “Oh yeah? I suspected it, but I wasn’t sure-”
“That’s a sign of trust. When a dog offers you their side like that, it’s a hug.” The lieutenant was genuinely touched at this news.
“Oh, well, thanks fella. I like you too.”
“So you taking him home?” Columbo’s heart rose in his chest as he looked from the employee to the dog. Why the hell not? “Yeah.
Yeah I will.” He said.
After signing papers and handing over some cash, Columbo left the shelter with a vet appointment, a leash and collar, and a new companion. The pup seemed to be perfectly content riding shotgun in the detective's rust bucket of a car.
Unfortunately, the plans to go home to have dinner with the Mrs. after the dog received his shots and checkup were no more after the Lieutenant received a call to action at the vet's office. It was supposedly a suicide, but Columbo's mind couldn't shake the idea that there was something more. He pondered it during his night spent with his wife as they made their new companion as comfortable as possible. Mrs. Columbo seemed like she grew more excited about the dog by the minute. As much as he took to Columbo, he took to Rose even more. He pranced over to her at just the sound of her voice (and Columbo couldn’t blame him.)
In the hours of the early morning, just as Rose had fallen asleep, Columbo was still awake. He had moved from the bed to the couch in the den in an effort to read his notes in his pad of paper over and over again under the light. The dog had been watching his new master for some time from his own bed. He observed how the man would scrunch up his entire face and shake his head. He saw how the scene played out in the Lieutenant's mind as he mapped it out in the air, using his hand to gesture where one person moved from place to place as he mumbled incoherently. There would be a movement, a consideration mumble, and then a grumble as the idea would be tossed due to an error. After watching this for a while, the dog decided to rise from his bed and waddled over the couch, where he scratched at the couch leg until he was lifted onto the furniture. He then made himself comfortable by sliding his way under Columbo's arm and plopping down on his chest. The added weight of the animal calmed Columbo's mind significantly. The simple gesture warmed his heat greatly as he gently stroked his dog's long, velvety ears. "I jus' don't understand why she did it." he whispered and leaned down in order to tell the dog this. "She didn't- she couldn't. She had so much to live for." The weight of the pianist's dead body blended with the dog's mass on Columbo's chest.