by Diane Kelly
“Lasagna. Garfield loves it. Maybe this dog will, too.”
We slid out of the Jeep, approaching the dog as cautiously as we could so we wouldn’t scare it off. We were twenty feet away when her head popped up, her eyes big and her ears back in fright.
I hunkered down to make myself look smaller and lifted the lid off the container.
Jessica peeked into it. “That looks delicious!”
“It’s a family recipe.”
“You made the lasagna?”
I nodded. “We take turns cooking at the station.”
Setting the container on the ground, I waved my hand over it, hoping to make the smell reach the dog faster. “Come on, girl. It’s dinnertime.”
Jessica squatted next to me, her shoulder brushing against mine. I caught an enticing whiff of vanilla again. Was it her shampoo? Lotion? I had no idea. I only knew I’d love to lose myself in that scent.
The dog continued to eye us warily. She didn’t run off, but she also refused to approach.
Jessica reached into the container and used her fingers to separate the top noodle from the stack. It was covered in mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. She gently tossed it toward the dog. “Come on, you little stinker,” she called. “This lasagna smells great. I bet it tastes really good.”
The puppy’s nose twitched and she took three tentative steps toward the pasta.
“Come on and take it,” Jessica whispered. “You know you want it.”
I’d love to hear her say the same to me.
The dog hesitated for a couple more seconds, then darted forward, her hunger overcoming her fear. She gobbled the pasta down and licked the sidewalk clean, looking up at us. Her ears were up now, telling us she was now more curious than scared.
Jessica pulled another noodle from the container and tossed it to a spot halfway between us and the dog. The puppy lowered her head and eased forward, keeping her eyes on us the entire time lest we make a sudden move. When she reached this piece of pasta, she gobbled it down, too.
Jessica reached into the container a third time. This time she didn’t toss the food to the puppy, but rather held it in her hand.
“When she comes to you,” I said, “I’ll grab her.” With my training and strength, I had a better chance of hanging on to a wriggling pup than Jessica.
We sat there for a full minute, waiting. The pup took five small steps toward us, then one back. Three steps forward. Two back. It was as if she were playing her own private game of Mother, May I?
Finally, she was only a foot away. Jessica leaned slowly forward, stretching her arm as far as it would go. The puppy did the same, leaning toward the food and stretching her neck to take the bait.
Before the dog knew what was happening, I had scooped her up in my arms. She struggled with surprising force and yelped as if she were being tortured. Yelp! Yelp! Yelp!
Hearing the noise, a couple of the neighbors came out to investigate. One was a blonde woman who appeared to be in her fifties, the other a gray-haired man with a cane. Jessica explained the situation to them.
I held the dog tight against my chest. “Do you know who she belongs to?”
Neither recognized her.
“What do you plan to do with her?” asked the woman. “Are you going to take her to the pound?”
Jessica and I exchanged looks. We hadn’t discussed what we’d do if we actually caught the dog.
Jessica reached out a hand to stroke the dog’s head. “I suppose we should take her to a vet’s office and see if she’s microchipped first.”
“Good idea.”
The woman nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Good luck, you two!”
I turned to Jessica. “You know how to drive a stick shift?”
“It’s been awhile,” she said, “but I can do it.”
I handed her my keys so she could drive while I kept a tight hold on the still-wriggling pup. We climbed into my Jeep, Jessica at the wheel. She whipped out her phone and ran a quick search to find the closest veterinarian’s office. “There’s one three minutes away on Rosedale.”
Given that my hands were full of squirming puppy, she offered to handle my seat belt. As she leaned over me to grab the belt, I caught another hint of vanilla and had to fight the urge to bury my face in her hair. If I find out she’s got a boyfriend, I just might have to run him over with the fire truck.
Once I was safely strapped in, she buckled her belt, started the car, and slid the gearshift into first. Despite being rusty on a manual transmission, she managed not to grind the gears, either. This is a woman I could fall in love with.
Minutes later, we stood side by side next to a Formica-topped examination table at the vet’s office. The technician ran a handheld electronic device over the dog’s neck. There was no telltale beep. She tried again. Still no sound. Just to be sure, she ran it from the tip of the puppy’s nose to the tip of her tail, back and forth, even rolling her over onto her back to see if the microchip had migrated to her belly. “Sometimes they slide around under the skin,” she informed us. But not this time. This dog had no chip.
While Jessica placed a call to animal control to see if anyone had reported a missing Dalmatian puppy, the tech logged into an online site on which people could report missing pets.
The tech ran her eyes over the screen. “I’m not seeing anything here that matches this dog’s description.”
Jessica ended her call. “Nobody’s reported a missing Dalmatian to animal control, either.” She let out a frustrated, sorrowful breath. “I’d bet dollars to donuts someone dumped her at the school hoping a student or parent would take her home.”
“Happens all the time.” The tech clucked her tongue. “So, what now? Are you going to drop her at the shelter?”
One look at Jessica’s stricken face and I knew she didn’t want to take the dog to the pound. There was limited space in the kennels, and the pup’s future there would be uncertain.
“My apartment complex allows pets,” Jessica said, “but only small ones. Twenty pounds or less. Any idea how big she might get?”
The tech picked up one of the puppy’s oversize paws. “I’m guessing forty to fifty pounds.”
Jessica bit her lip and her shoulders tensed. Obviously, a forty-pound dog was against the rules.
“I’d like to have a dog at home,” I said, “but I live alone and a firefighter’s work schedule isn’t exactly conducive to having a pet. She’d be home alone for long stretches. That’s not good for a puppy.”
We sat in silence for a moment before an idea popped into my mind.
“I can take her to the station when I’m on duty,” I offered. “We’ve got a fenced area out back for the bomb dogs to play in. She’d be right at home. Besides, our station needs a mascot.” The other firefighters and paramedics adored Blast, and they’d be sure to give this little pup a lot of attention, too. She’d be safe and well cared for there. “When I’m off duty, she can come home with me.”
Relief brightened Jessica’s face and her shoulders relaxed. “That would be wonderful, Louie!”
The tech looked from me to Jessica and back again. “Do you want her to get a checkup and shots while you’re here?”
“Might as well,” I said. “Don’t want her catching anything.”
“We can schedule a spay as well.”
“Great.”
The tech stepped over to the computer on the counter. “What name should I use for her file?”
Jessica and I exchanged glances. She shrugged.
“I’ve heard you refer to her as the little stinker.” I turned to the tech. “Stinker it is.”
“That’s an awful name!” Jessica cried, following her words with another sexy giggle.
“Got a better one?” I asked.
“Dot?”
The tech scrunched her nose. “Half of the Dalmatians we see in here are named Dot.”
“Spotty?” Jessica suggested.
The tech shook her head. “You’ve just named the other ha
lf.”
“My imagination doesn’t seem to be working at the moment,” Jessica said.
I raised my palms. “Looks like we’re stuck with Stinker.”
At that, the puppy stood on the exam table, wagged her tail, and issued a yip.
“See?” I said. “She already knows her name. Don’t you, Stinker?”
She yipped again, and I reached out and ruffled her ears.
Jessica and I took seats on a bench while the tech took the dog’s temperature, weighed her, and looked at her teeth and in her ears. She administered the shots, drew some blood for the heartworm test, and took a fecal sample to check for parasites.
When the tech left the room to run the tests in the clinic’s lab, Jessica turned to me. “I’ll pay the vet bill. It’s the least I can do since you helped me rescue her and are giving her a home at the station.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” I knew teachers didn’t make a lot of money. Besides, Stinker was my responsibility now. “But thanks for the offer.”
The veterinarian came into the room a few minutes later and looked Stinker over, feeling her abdomen and taking a second look at her ears and teeth. When he lifted her lips, she turned her head toward his hand and mouthed his fingers. “She’s teething,” he told us. “A chew toy would be a good idea. Otherwise she’ll turn to furniture or shoes.”
Good advice. The last thing we needed was her chewing up our firefighting boots.
The vet finished his exam and pronounced the pup healthy. I scheduled an appointment for her to be spayed the following month, paid the bill, and carried her back out to the Jeep.
“Mind driving again?” I asked Jessica. “I’m thinking we should hit a pet store and get her a collar and a leash. Some food and toys, too.”
Jessica took her place behind the wheel again and we set off for the store. As I held the pup tight, I took advantage of the opportunity to cast covert glances at the vanilla-scented woman at the wheel. I wasn’t sure which I liked more: the cute curls that bounced when we hit a pot hole, or the sensuous way she worked the gearshift. Hmm . . .
Chapter Thirteen: Spoiled Rotten
Jessica
My goodness, Louis was going to spoil the little pup! By the time we made it to the checkout stand at the pet store, he’d filled the cart with a cozy bed, a reflective harness and leash set, a bag of specially formulated food, three types of treats, and enough chew toys, balls, and play ropes to satisfy an entire litter of puppies.
As the clerk rang up his purchases, I turned to him. “If I happen to die and be reincarnated, I want to come back as your pet.”
“If this is your way of asking for a belly rub,” he replied with a grin, “there’s no need to beat around the bush.”
At the suggestion of Louie touching me, I felt my cheeks flame again, giving my thoughts away. Ugh! I turned to the pegboard display next to the register and feigned interest in a pair of nail clippers. Plastic and metal. Three-year guarantee. Wow.
When we left the store, Stinker was wearing her new red harness attached to the matching leash. Louie attempted to walk her, but she grabbed the leash in her mouth and scampered to and fro, dragging him along with her. He reeled the leash in to pull her close and stopped, looking down at her. “I’m the boss, pup.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
Stinker looked up at him and issued an assertive yap.
“See?” I said. “She agrees with me.”
Louie reached down and scooped the dog up in his arms once again. Her earlier terror long forgotten, she raised her head and licked his face affectionately. “She might be in charge,” he said, “but at least she loves me.”
Now that we had her in a leash and harness, I held the puppy on my lap while Louie drove back to the school. There, he reattached the soft top to his Jeep to keep Stinker contained as he drove her to the station.
When he finished, I handed him her leash, gave her a peck on the snout, and bade Louie good-bye. “Take care.”
“You, too, Jessica.”
It was the first time he’d said my first name aloud, and hearing it in that basso profundo voice made me wonder what it would be like to hear him cry it during the throes of passion. If only . . . But it didn’t seem meant to be. He hadn’t asked for my phone number or e-mail address, and I certainly wasn’t going to offer my contact information unsolicited. I didn’t want to look desperate or easy. Looked like I’d been fooling myself, thinking he’d come to the school to see me. Clearly, he’d come only for the puppy’s sake. But that’s okay, I told myself. After all, there are many more fish in the sea.
I climbed into my car. As I started my engine, I saw his Jeep drive past in my rearview mirror. I also saw tears forming in my eyes.
Shit.
That’s what I got for getting my hopes up. Of course, some of my emotion belonged to the puppy. Stinker certainly was adorable. Would I ever see the little spotted dog again? I’d hardly spent any time with the pup, but the thought that she’d merely scampered through my life made me feel as sad and hollow as the thought that I’d never see Louie again. Those two had swept in and stolen my heart before I could even realize what was happening.
I spent the evening on the couch, eating a microwave burrito and watching sitcoms with Shirazi lounging in my lap, shedding all over my furniture and pajamas. As much as I adored my cat, his companionship was lacking in several regards. He contributed little to our conversations other than an occasional flick of his tail, and he’d wander off willy-nilly, leaving me all alone on the sofa. He also tended to relieve himself in the middle of the night, his scratch-scratch-scratching in the litter box waking me in the wee hours. Inconsiderate. I supposed I’d be less lonely at home if I had a human roommate, too, but that’s not what I really wanted. I was ready to settle down. I wanted a man. A husband I could plan a future with. One that included a house with a yard, two or three children, and movie nights snuggled up on the sofa with each other and a big bowl of popcorn. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?
I went to bed feeling empty and isolated. I wonder if there’s someone in Louie’s bed tonight. He mentioned that he lived alone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend who stayed over on occasion. Or maybe he stayed at her place. Heck, for all I knew he was rolling in the sheets with her right now. She probably had pink satin ones. Whoever she was, I envied her.
I closed my eyes tight as if that could shut out the mental image, put my pillow over my head, and heaved a deep sigh.
* * *
I woke Friday morning with a fresh outlook. Louie DeLuca wasn’t interested in me. So what? It was his loss. I was quite a catch and if he didn’t realize it, he was an idiot. A good-looking, sweet, courageous idiot. Ugh. I’d failed at my own pep talk.
Today in class we moved on to the letter H. I wrote a capital and lowercase H on the board. H for hot, like a fire. H for hero. H for him.
Dammit! No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get Louie DeLuca out of my head.
After we’d recited the pledge and the children had taken their seats, I clapped my hands once to get their attention. “Today we’re going to learn the letter H. H sounds like this.” I made a huh sound. “Let’s all do it together.”
Everyone repeated the sound. Huh. To keep things lively and fun for the kids, I said, “Okay, now let’s do it ten times real fast.”
Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh—It sounded as if we were hyperventilating. Some of the children broke into peals of laughter. I had to fight a laugh myself.
Huh-huh-huh—
The sound of the door opening drew all of our eyes. The gray-haired woman who managed the front office stepped in, an enormous basket wrapped in clear cellophane in her hands. The wrap was gathered up in a big red bow at the top.
“This came for you,” she said, thrusting it at me.
I took it from her. Through the transparent wrap, I could see that the basket was filled with apples of all varieties and colors. Red Delicious. Golden Deli
cious. Gala. Granny Smith. It wasn’t my birthday or another special occasion. Why would someone have sent this? Teachers occasionally received gifts from parents, but usually at the winter holiday break or the end of the school year, and usually only some type of small token, like a coffee mug. “Who’s it from?”
She raised her palms. “Delivery service dropped it off. Looks like there’s a card inside.”
I squinted into the reflective wrap. Sure enough, there was a white card tucked among the fruit. Untying the bow carefully so that the apples wouldn’t roll out of the basket, I reached in, pulled out the small envelope, and opened it to remove the card.
If you’re in a relationship, enjoy the apples. If you’re not, enjoy the apples and say you’ll come with me to see Doug Harrison’s band play tomorrow night.
Louie DeLuca
Louie had followed the message with his cell phone number.
Hunky fireman Louie DeLuca had asked me out? Holy pasta fagioli! I began to hyperventilate for real. Huh-huh-huh! Of course I’ll say yes, but should I text him or call him? What should I wear? How should I do my hair?
“Are you gonna share?”
Bethany’s voice jerked me back to reality. I looked down to see she’d rolled up in front of my desk, eyeing the apples.
“You always say that sharing is nice,” she insisted, giving me a grin.
My own words coming back to bite me in the butt. “That’s right, Bethany. Sharing is a nice thing to do.”
I glanced at the basket. There were more than enough apples for the class, and it would take me weeks to eat all of them myself. Besides, Louie’s thoughtful gesture and invitation were what really mattered. I reached into the basket, pulled out a red apple, and handed it to her. “There you go.”
Not to be left out, the other students immediately burst into cries of, “I want one!” “Me, too!” “How come she gets one and I don’t?”
I stood and grabbed the handle of the basket. “Everyone who’s working hard will get an apple,” I told them. “Now get back to your assignment, kiddos.”
Their heads went down, each of them carefully tracing the letter H on the handout. I wandered up and down the rows, placing an apple on each desk. When I’d finished my rounds, five remained. Just enough to make an apple pie.