Jingle Bell Bark

by Laurien Berenson

  Alice walked over to the refrigerator and helped herself to a diet soda. “Do you think your aunt might be willing to sit down with me and give me a few pointers on how to deal with a new puppy?”

  “I’m sure she’d be delighted to.”

  “Even though I’m not getting one from her?”

  “I can’t see why that would make any difference.” Since both Poodles were sitting expectantly outside the pantry door, I got out the peanut butter biscuits and passed a couple around. “Aunt Peg is all in favor of responsible dog ownership. And while she adores Poodles herself, she can certainly understand that not everyone feels they have to have one. That’s why there are approximately one hundred and forty-nine other breeds to choose from. Not to mention your basic, garden-variety mutts. Aunt Peg just wants to be sure that people who have dogs do right by them.”

  Alice pondered that. “She’s going to be upset about where this puppy came from, isn’t she?”

  “Yup.” No point in denying it. Since Alice had grabbed a chair and settled in, I poured myself a drink too.

  “Look at it this way,” she said. “You don’t approve of Ms. Morehouse’s methods. But if people buy her puppies, they’ll be leaving her place and going to better homes. That’s got to be a good thing, right?”

  “Not necessarily. Because the fact the people are willing to pay Ms. Morehouse a decent sum of money for puppies she hasn’t put all that much thought and effort into producing only encourages her to keep on breeding. Not only that, but she doesn’t seem to care whether or not her puppies are going to good homes. Did she interview you when you talked to her about buying one?”

  “Umm,” Alice thought back. “Not exactly.”

  “Did she ask any questions at all?”

  “She took down my name, address, and phone number.”

  “Which has nothing to do with whether or not you would be a good dog owner. Did she ask if you had a fenced yard?”

  “No.”

  “If you’d ever owned a dog before?”

  “No.”

  “If you had any children and what their ages were?”

  “Well, she knew about Joey, obviously. He’s in the play.” Alice was beginning to sound defensive.

  “But not about Carly. For all Ms. Morehouse knew, you might have had half a dozen children under the age of six.”

  “No, I couldn’t have,” Alice said firmly. “Trust me, my marriage wouldn’t have survived it.”

  “You can see what I’m getting at, though.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  I was leaning back against the counter. Faith ambled over, carrying a thick chew toy made of braided rope in her mouth. She pushed one end into my hand, checking if I wanted to play tug-of-war. I snatched the toy from between her teeth and waved it in front of her nose. Delighted, the Poodle jumped up and grabbed the toy back.

  “Ms. Morehouse told me that housebreaking was going to be a snap,” Alice said, watching the game. “Is she wrong about that too?”

  “Maybe not,” I allowed. “As long as you’re dedicated. And consistent. And you don’t mind taking your new puppy outside for a walk every couple hours.”

  “Every couple hours?” She stood up, rinsed her soda can in the sink, and tossed it in the recycling bin. “I thought dogs only had to go out three or four times a day.”

  “Adult dogs, maybe. But puppies? No way. They can’t hold it that long.”

  “I guess this is going to be more involved than I thought. I have a lot to learn, don’t I?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Aunt Peg makes a great teacher.”

  Alice had met my aunt a number of times. She knew what she was letting herself in for. “I’ll just bet,” she muttered.

  As Alice had predicted, Henry Pruitt lived in the same North Stamford neighborhood where he’d been driving a school bus for the past half dozen years. His house was on a block very similar to the one Alice and I lived on: a post—World War II development of small homes on quarter-acre lots meant to welcome returning veterans with affordably priced housing. Half a century later, Henry’s street looked to be a mix of young, yuppie families and older residents who’d been in place for years.

  Numbers above the mail slots on most front doors made Henry’s house easy to find. It was a light gray cape with white trim. The porch was neatly swept and the roof looked new. Even in winter, the yard was well tended.

  I pulled the Volvo in beside the curb and coasted to a stop. Together, Alice and I peered out at the house. All at once, neither one of us was in a hurry to get out of the car.

  “Well, now I feel sort of stupid,” she said. “I mean, everything looks fine. What are we going to say when we knock on the door and Henry answers and asks what we want?”

  “That we were worried about him and wanted to make sure he was okay?”

  “He’s going to wonder why we thought he might not be. The poor man’s probably taking his first vacation in a decade. He’ll think we’re a couple of stalkers, coming to his house just because he’s missed two days of work.”

  “Maybe he’ll think we’re a pair of kind, caring individuals.” I tried to sound hopeful; Alice did have a point.

  “Stalkers,” she said again as a curtain shifted in one of the front windows.

  I heard the unmistakable sound of barking coming from within the house. Big dogs, unless I missed my guess. And more than one.

  “Come on.” I reached for the door handle. “We’ve been announced. Now we have to go in.”

  As we navigated the front walk, the barking grew louder and more frantic. Climbing the steps to the porch, I heard a distinct thump as one of the dogs threw itself against the inside of the door. I knew many people kept big dogs as watchdogs, but now that these had done their job and revealed our presence, I wondered why Henry hadn’t called them off. The noise inside the small house must have been deafening.

  Alice hung back near the steps, but I crossed the porch and reached for the doorbell. I pressed hard and heard it ring within.

  Toenails clacked against a front window as one of the dogs pushed the curtain aside and pressed his nose to the glass. A broad golden head with soft brown eyes stared out at us. The dog began to whine under his breath.

  “Look,” Alice said, staring. “It’s a Golden Retriever.”

  “Two.”

  A second head joined the first. Judging by the way their bodies were wriggling, the dogs’ tails had begun to wag. The watchdogs were happy to see us.

  “Ring it again,” said Alice, and I did. We waited another minute but there was still no response. The dogs continued to watch us through the window, their warm, moist breath fogging the cool glass.

  “I guess Henry isn’t home,” I said finally. I wasn’t quite sure whether to be concerned or relieved.

  “Probably just as well,” Alice agreed quickly. She was already heading for the steps. “Let’s go.”

  I glanced over at the dogs again. Something seemed off somehow, though I wasn’t sure exactly what. “Maybe we should leave a note. You know, saying we stopped by and asking Henry to call and tell us everything is okay.”

  “I’m sure everything must be fine.” Alice reached back and grabbed my arm. “Henry’s probably just out somewhere running errands. Maybe he was low on dog food.”

  “Maybe . . .” I agreed reluctantly. As I followed her down the stairs, I could still hear the dogs. Now the two of them were whimpering unhappily.

  “Yoo-hoo! Ladies, wait!”

  I’d been so tuned in to the dogs’ distress that it took me a moment to realize someone was calling us. Thankfully, Alice was quicker. Already halfway down the walk, she stopped and then turned, treading carefully across the frozen grass to the neighbor’s yard.

  The woman who’d hailed us was standing in her doorway. The door itself was mostly shut, presumably to block out the cold. The woman’s head and one arm poked through the slender opening. I hurried to catch up.

  “Are you the daughters?” she
asked as we approached.

  Alice and I looked at one another. “What daughters?”

  “Henry’s girls. Come to see about—” The woman stopped and stared hard, seeming annoyed all at once to find us standing in her yard even though she’d been the one to call us there. “Who are you?” she asked abruptly.

  “Friends of Henry’s,” I said quickly before Alice could answer. “Come to check on him.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

  “Henry drives our children on the school bus,” Alice said. “We’ve known him for years.”

  The woman’s features softened. She sighed and pushed her door open. “I guess you’d better come inside then.”

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  I didn’t get an answer. Instead the woman waved a hand irritably in our direction. “Hurry up, you’re letting all the warm air out.”

  Alice and I did as we were told. Together we scurried through the opening and shut the door behind us. Compared to the brisk temperature outside, the air inside the house was stiflingly warm. I reached up and unwound my scarf, then unbuttoned my coat. Inside for only a moment, I was already hot.

  “I’m Betty Bowen,” the woman said. “Henry and I have been neighbors here for more than twenty years. John and I moved into this house as newlyweds all that time ago. Don’t think we ever expected to be here this long.

  “Lots of people, they feel the need to trade up when they start a family, but we never did. Good thing too, since John didn’t live past his forty-fifth birthday, and Johnny and I ended up with a house that was mostly paid off so’s we didn’t end up on the street.”

  “Johnny?” I asked, even though I knew I probably shouldn’t.

  Betty Bowen reminded me of my next-door neighbor, Edna Silano. Edna was an older woman, living alone, who didn’t have that many people to talk to. Get her started and she would tell you her entire life story, beginning with her trip to America from the old country.

  “My boy. That’s his picture there.” Betty gestured toward the mantelpiece. The wooden ledge was covered with framed photographs. At a glance, they seemed to chronicle the highlights of her son’s life. The most recent picture was a high school graduation shot. Alice walked over for a closer look. If they’d have been dog pictures, I might have done the same. Since they weren’t, I stayed where I was.

  “So you must know Henry pretty well,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back on topic.

  “It’s a terrible, terrible thing.” Betty sighed loudly.

  “What is?” I asked. Alice looked up.

  “What happened to poor dear Henry.”

  For a single beat, my heart stood still. I knew I should ask, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  Alice managed for me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you,” Betty said. “But Henry’s gone to his rest. That poor man died the night before last.”

  5

  “Oh no,” I said softly.

  Alice looked similarly stricken. “Henry’s dead?” she repeated.

  Betty simply nodded.

  “What happened?” I asked. “We just saw him on Monday. It must have been very sudden.”

  “It was,” Betty confirmed. “And unexpected, too. He just keeled right over. I guess it was his heart that went. He was outside with those big dogs of his when it happened. Johnny came right in and called nine-one-one but there wasn’t a thing anybody could do.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” There was a chair beside me. I sank into it gratefully. I hadn’t known Henry well, but he had seemed like a genuinely good person. “So you thought we were his daughters?”

  “That’s right. Come to see about the arrangements. I’ve been expecting them for two days now.”

  “Do they live around here?” asked Alice.

  “Not even close. One’s in California and the other’s in Alaska, if you can believe that. Both all grown up and out on their own. They don’t spend much time around here. Henry’s been in that house a good ten years, and I can’t say that I recall ever meeting either one of them. I assume the authorities have notified them. And they damn well better show up soon because something sure as heck needs to be done about Pepper and Remington.”

  “Are they the dogs?” I asked. “The two Golden Retrievers we just saw?”

  “That’s them. Henry loved those two like nobody’s business. Now they’re just sitting over there in that house waiting to see what’s going to happen to them next.”

  I stared at her, horrified. “You mean nobody’s taking care of them?”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly. I’ve looked in on them a couple of times. You know, filling the water bowl and putting out some food. I’m not much of a dog person myself, and those two are living proof why. They’re making a god-awful mess of that house.”

  “Of course - they’re making a mess,” I sputtered. “If they’ve been cooped up alone in there for two days, what choice do they have? You mean nobody has walked them or let them outside at all?”

  “Johnny thought about doing something like that, but I told him to leave well enough alone. Those are big, rambunctious animals. What if he let them out and they ran away? Then it would be our fault that they were missing. When Henry’s daughters show up, they’ll have to make their own arrangements.”

  All well and good, assuming that they arrived quickly. But already two days had passed without any sign of Henry’s relatives. Who knew how long it might be before someone appeared? Pepper and Remington couldn’t stay cooped up in that house all by themselves. If Henry had cared about those dogs, he would have been outraged by the very idea. I knew I was.

  I stood up and looked at Betty. “Do you have a key to the house?”

  “Oh no,” Alice said from behind me.

  Determinedly, I ignored her. “I assume you must, since you’ve been going in and out.”

  Betty nodded. “After Johnny and I got Henry into the ambulance and on his way to the hospital, we went over there and made sure everything was locked up tight. Of course, at the time we hoped he’d be coming back. It wasn’t until later that we realized he wouldn’t. Henry kept his keys on a hook by the door. I’ve got the whole key ring here.”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Alice. “And it’s a crazy idea.”

  “Those dogs are all but abandoned. What choice do we have?”

  “Not we. You. If I ever showed up at home with one of those giant dogs, Joe would kill me.”

  I stared at her, perplexed. “Haven’t we been talking about the fact that you’re planning to get your kids a puppy? Well, this is what cute little puppies look like when they grow up. Or hadn’t you thought that far ahead?”

  “Of course I’ve thought about it. But I figured we’d ease into this dog-ownership thing gradually. That’s why we’re starting with a puppy.”

  Her logic made no sense at all, not that I had time to debate the point. Puppies, though smaller, were much more work than adult dogs. I supposed Alice would be finding that out soon enough. But if she didn’t think she could handle one of Henry’s dogs, what made her think she could handle one of her own?

  “Then I’ll take them both,” I said.

  These were, perhaps, not the sanest words ever to pass through my lips.

  “You will?” Betty asked, sounding surprised. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “For the time being, I’ll give them a place to stay where they’ll at least be well cared for. Then we’ll see what happens when Henry’s relatives show up. Maybe his daughters will want them.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” said Betty. “Like I said, they don’t come and visit much. They’ve probably never even seen those two.”

  “I guess I’ll have to find homes for them, then.”

  Brave words considering I had no idea how hard it would be to do something like that. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t walk away
and leave Remington and Pepper to an uncertain and possibly neglectful fate.

  “That seems like a fine idea to me.” Betty sounded delighted to abdicate responsibility. “Leave me your phone number, and if anyone shows up and wants to know where those dogs have gone off to, I’ll have them call you.”

  I wrote down my information while Betty went and got the key to Henry’s back door. She pressed it gratefully into my hand. “It might need some cleaning up over there, if you know what I mean.”

  I could well imagine. Beside me, Alice snorted indelicately. I guessed that meant we both could.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said as we left Betty’s house and went trooping back to Henry’s house.

  “I have to do this,” I said. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

  “What on earth are you going to do with two huge Golden Retrievers? You can’t be thinking of taking them home. You’ve never even met these dogs. What if they’re vicious?”

  “Most Goldens have wonderful temperaments.” We stepped up onto the stoop and I fit the key into the lock. “Besides, why would Henry have vicious dogs?”

  Pepper and Remington were barking again. Seeing us from inside, they’d followed us though the house as we’d gone around. Now both dogs were in the kitchen, yelping and throwing themselves enthusiastically against the back door. I hoped I was going to be able to get it open and slip inside without one or the other making an escape.

  “Where will they stay while you’re at school?” Alice asked, peering unhappily over my shoulder at the boisterous pair.

  “Good question,” I admitted.

  “Not to mention the fact that it’s almost Christmas. You can’t tell me you don’t have a million other things to do.”

  She was right again.

  “This is utter madness,” said Alice. Since my responses thus far had been less than satisfactory, she poked me hard in the ribs. “Who would take on the care of two big, strange dogs on the spur of the moment at this time of year, just because they needed a home?”