by Rice, Debby
“You know I always treat Minerva with the utmost respect and care,” sniffed Cristoff. He carefully detached the stuffed owl from Trudy’s arm and headed back down the hall to the foyer, where they had left their witchy paraphernalia.
“Minerva is a powerful totem,” said Trudy. “I’m glad I brought her along. You never know what you’ll need. She’s wonderful at routing out evil—even from the cleverest of hiding places. You might want to consider an offering for her. She’s really given her all for you today. I sense quiet. That little dog of yours seems particularly docile now and didn’t cause a bit of trouble during the ceremony. Something must have set her straight,” Then she smiled and added. “You won’t have any further manifestations.”
Charmaine looked clueless. “What sort of offering did you have in mind?”
“A hundred dollars would probably do it,” Cristoff chimed in. “Trudy likes to buy some frankincense and candles to praise Minerva when she’s done especially well.”
“Does your work come with a guarantee?” Charmaine looked really pleased with herself for thinking to ask this question.
“Really, dear, that isn’t necessary. The spiritual world operates on faith. My clients trust my expertise.”
“Well, we’re Jewish here, and Larry always likes to get a guarantee.”
Trudy raised an eyebrow and looked at Cristoff.
“Charmaine, I’m going to strongly suggest that you honor Minerva. It’s not a step you want to leave out.” Cristoff glanced nervously in the direction of Charmaine’s checkbook.
Charmaine sighed, wrote a second check and handed it to Trudy.
Trudy forced a smile. “Well, my dear, I’m quite sure you’ll have a peaceful house now. But you should know that little dogs like that one,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at me, “can cause all sorts of trouble on the astral plane.”
I had had enough of her insults. Several of Minerva’s feathers were protruding from Trudy’s satchel. I grabbed a feather in my teeth, pulled it out, shook it around in my jaws like prize and dropped it on the floor.
Trudy and Cristoff were gap-mouthed with horror. Cristoff retrieved the feather, dusted it off to remove any doggy debris and placed it in the bag. He gave Charmaine a nasty scowl. Then the two of them turned in unison and headed for the door.
We heard the elevator open. The moment it closed, a blue Lalique vase toppled off the fireplace mantel, crashed to the floor and shattered into a zillion pieces.
“Oh, my God,” whispered Charmaine. She looked incredulously at the splintered remains of her favorite vase, then rested her head in her hands. “All that for nothing.”
Hours later, when Veronica had apparently exhausted her bag of Halloween tricks, I discovered that there was another shadowy entity interested in Lucille’s welfare. Charmaine had left the bedroom door open. So I snuck down the hall to spend the night with Lucille. When I arrived in her room, she was typing furiously on her computer. I jumped up on the bed and made myself comfortable while I waited for her to finish. After about 20 minutes, Lucille shut the laptop. She switched on the flat screen and slipped a CD into the blue ray.
“We’re going to watch Jewel Guardian of the Sleeping Panther,” she said, gathering me into the crook of her arm. “But first I have to tell you a secret. It’s good news,” she whispered into my fur.
She sounded excited. I nuzzled her arm, anxious to hear more.
“I have a new friend, Sugar.”
Now I was really intrigued.
“His name is Magnus,” she said stroking my back.
Magnus? The name sounded made-up.
“He’s older, and he’s very powerful.”
This made my ears stand up.
“I think he can help us. We’ve been emailing. You’ll get to meet him soon.”
I was completely baffled. Who was Magnus? Lucille had definitely been watching too many of her mother’s movies. She flicked the remote, and I crawled under the comforter to muffle the sound of Jewel’s earsplitting adventures. As I drifted off to sleep, I said a prayer to the god of superheroes. My fervent hope was that Magnus was another harmless ninja killer whose powers would remain locked in the silver box with the apple on top.
Chapter 16
“I have been born more times than anybody except Krishna.”
Mark Twain
For once, I was not the one who was trembling. Charmaine’s knees were shaking so hard that I would have fallen off her lap, except she was holding me in place. Her hands were icy and just as palsied as her legs. Although I was the celebrity of the evening, I was calm.
I was having a fabulous time attending my first blacktie event as a dog. It was all about me. We were surrounded by Sugar frolicking on programs, goodie bags, menus, napkins and all of the other swag produced to entice the fat cats to trim their wallets.
Charmaine, in her relentless effort to complete the transformation from shopgirl to socialite, had sought the advice of an image consultant. While I had a play date with a Lhasa apso—an afternoon filled with sniffing and scratching that I would prefer to forget—Charmaine discussed how someone who is shacked up with an “exterminator” goes about hoisting herself up the social ladder. The consultant had droned on for hours about the challenges of getting Charmaine “placed” at Chihuahua Rescue. In the end, Charmaine didn’t need her help. Her own obsessive enthusiasm, plus Larry’s $100,000 contribution, got her named chair of the Gala Teacup Ball.
“Oh, Suggie, I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, picking me up and smashing me to her chest. “I think I overpracticed. But it has to be perfect.” Her welcome speech was five minutes long, and I had spent 500 minutes listening to her practice it.
Alone in the cavernous ballroom, we were bathed in the sugary reflection of pink linen. Before us, empty tables stretched like row after row of candy lozenges, each topped with swirls of fuchsia roses. Larry, our benefactor, was busy elsewhere. After he wrote the check, he felt no further need to be involved. Lucille had begged to come but was told children were not allowed. She was left to watch Jewel of a Thousand Facets while Zoya prayed and painted her nails blue.
Charmaine had arrived early to test the microphone. Her sheaf of dog-eared note cards, including detailed instructions for hand gestures, was spread before her like a tarot deck. She was studying them as if the mystery to a season of A-list invitations might soon be revealed.
“Oh, finally, there’s Anthony.” Charmaine looked up at the stage. She waved frantically at a man who had just appeared from the wings. “Anthony, Anthony. Don’t go away. I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time, Ms. Ratzinger,” he called back.
“Okay, Suggie. Don’t be nervous. It’s just our test run.”
We mounted the steps to the stage. Charmaine, who was wearing a spiky pair of Jimmy Choo strappy sandals, tripped on the top stair. We teetered for a moment, but she regained her footing. She seemed to have issues with her balance and was constantly stumbling.
“Careful there. Be sure to hold onto the railing when you come onstage,” said Anthony.
“We need to practice that again,” Charmaine said, descending the stairs. We marched up and down three more times. She held me in the crook of her arm and grasped the railing with her other hand. The note cards were stuffed down the front of her pink velvet bustier. I was wearing a twin pink velvet top and black satin skirt. We had matching black pearl necklaces: mine plastic, hers Mikimoto.
“I think we’ll be okay on the stairs. Is the mic ready?”
“All set,” said Anthony.
Charmaine put me down on the podium. Then she removed the note cards from her cleavage and spread them out beside me. Keeping them in a pile seemed to be beyond her. “Is it okay if I leave these cards up here?” she said, turning to Anthony.
“No problem,” he said. “Just remember, Don, the emcee, will be introducing you. You might want to put them to one side so they don’t get out of order.”
“Testing, tes
ting, testing,” Charmaine said, putting her mouth against the mic. Her voice echoed across the ballroom. “Oh, my God. It’s so loud. Anthony, is it supposed to be that loud?”
“Well, there are going to be 300 people here. I think the volume is about right.”
“Oh, Suggie, 300 people. I’m so nervous. My knees won’t stop shaking. Okay, Charmaine. Deep breaths.” She inhaled and exhaled several times. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Charmaine Ratzinger, your event chair. Welcome ladies, gentlemen and animal companions to the 2nd Annual Teacup Ball… Oh, God. Where’s the next card?”
I was having a little fun. While she wasn’t looking, I had picked up the card in my teeth and moved it.
“I’ll start again.”
There were rivulets of sweat dripping down Charmaine’s neck and into her décolletage. I vowed to try to behave for the rest of the evening.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, wait, I think I’m supposed to say ‘good evening everyone.’ ‘Ladies and gentlemen’ comes later.”
Even with the note cards, Charmaine’s short-term memory issues were really kicking in.
“Relax, Ms. Ratzinger,” said Anthony. “When we turn the stage lights on, you won’t be able to see the audience. Have a good time. It’s your night. Do you want a chair for the dog?”
“Absolutely not,” said Charmaine, giving Anthony an indignant look. “Suggie has to be right here beside me. I need to see her, and the audience has to see her on the video monitors.”
“Okay, just trying to make things easier,” said Anthony.
“Good evening, everyone…”
Somehow she managed to get to the punch line.
“And this is my very own adorable mini Chi, Sugar.” Charmaine lifted me in both hands like a trophy, then she turned me toward the microphone. I barked on cue.
I heard laughter, then clapping. I tried to see where the noise was coming from. Guests were starting to arrive and with them their dogs. The room was growing heady with the smell of people and animals. But suddenly, interwoven among the layers of flowers, perfume, skin, fur and food cooking in some distant kitchen, I caught a scent that squeezed my heart and made it stop. I couldn’t believe it. But my dog nose did not lie. As we approached the table, I saw Richard seated in the chair next to Charmaine’s. I scratched her arm, dying for her to put me down.
“Suggie, stop it. You’re hurting Mommy. Look, you’re making my skin all red. You’re going in the purse if you’re not good.”
She held me more tightly. My legs itched to move—to run, jump, stretch or scratch. But I willed myself to be still.
“Bravo. Nice job,” Richard said as Charmaine pulled out her chair and sat down.
“Oh, that was just my practice.” I could tell that Charmaine wasn’t certain whether he was kidding or serious. “Are you Charlie Meyer from City Dog?” she asked cautiously.
“Well, there are times when I wish I was CEO of City Dog, but I’m afraid not. I’m Richard Preston, veterinarian to the stars—sorry that was a really bad joke. Charlie’s Chihuahua, Bolillo, is my patient.”
“I’m Charmaine Ratzinger, event chair. What happened to Charlie? We were scheduled to talk about Chi Rescue.”
“He couldn’t make it tonight, so he gave me his ticket. He thought I might be interested in helping the group. I’ve done some volunteer work in the past.”
I couldn’t stand it one minute longer. I was trapped in Charmaine’s lap, and Richard didn’t see me. I put my front paws up on the table, looked straight into his face and barked.
“Hey, it’s the star of the show,” Richard smiled down at me. “Didn’t you hear me clapping for you?”
“Suggie, no barking now. Wait till you’re back onstage.” Charmaine put her hand around my muzzle and squeezed. I shook my head, and she let go.
“She’s a mini Chi, right? I’ve met this little dog before, but she was with someone else.” Richard rubbed my face.
“Well, actually, we were in your building. We went to see Feingold and it wasn’t very nice. Suggie had a very bad reaction. She ran away and hid in your office.”
“Funny, the guy from the dry cleaners down the street has a dog that’s her double.”
“mini Chis are like twins. They all look exactly alike.”
“Well, it’s a small world,” said Richard, stroking my back. So many memories were contained in the weight of his hand: Laughing at the funny names he used to call me, his smell after a shower, the swish of the silk dress I wore on our first date. I was overwhelmed by these vivid human sensations. Although I was surrounded by Sugar, I forgot her. For the first time in months, I was Cherry again.
“Sugar’s a terrific dog,” said Richard. He picked me up and held me next to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat. I licked his face. My tail wouldn’t stop.
“She really likes you,” said Charmaine. “She isn’t usually so friendly to strangers.”
“Well, maybe that’s because we’re not strangers,” said Richard.
This startled me. Just for a moment, resting next to his heart, I wondered if I had made a connection.
The lights dimmed. The waiters served the salad. Richard told us about his work neutering wild dogs in Mexico. He and another vet launched the Safe Dogs, Safe Kids project, and they were constantly struggling to find funding. Charmaine was asking the questions. But when Richard answered, he looked at me.
“Did you know that in one year there were over 300 cases of rabies in Hermosillo, Mexico?” he said. “Wild dogs are a problem most people don’t think about. There are so many kids at risk of being bitten, and their families don’t understand how important it is to get treatment immediately.”
Charmaine gasped. We were both completely absorbed in his story when I heard the emcee say, “Now give a big hand for our event chair, Ms. Charmaine Ratzinger.” There was thunderous applause.
Charmaine was out of her chair faster than a greyhound breaking the gate. Forgetting that Richard was holding me, she rushed toward the stage. I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether I should allow the drama to unfold, but I wanted my moment of fame. I wriggled around in Richard’s arms.
“She forgot you. You’re such a smart girl,” Richard jumped up and ran toward Charmaine. When Charmaine reached the stage, she whirled around. Richard was right behind her with me in his outstretched hands. Charmaine grabbed me and clambered up the stairs to the stage.
The minute Charmaine set me on the podium, I realized that her problems had just begun. The note cards were gone. There was only one left. The others had been knocked off the podium and were scattered around us. A second later, Charmaine made the same discovery. Her face went white. She opened her mouth and closed it, then opened it again. Thank God Anthony was right: We couldn’t see the audience. We were frozen in a brilliant halo of light surrounded by a void. The only sound was the clatter of cutlery against china. Charmaine was comatose. Her eyes were as vacant as a late-stage Alzheimer’s patient. Again the devil whispered in my ear: Why should I come to her rescue? What had she done for me? Stolen my husband. And I didn’t like her interest in Richard, which seemed to be growing by the minute. Still, I wavered. If she blew her big moment, she would make life impossible for Lucille and me. Plus, after practicing with her for so many hours, I felt like it was my speech too, and I didn’t want her to fail. Her hands were resting on the podium. I licked a finger. Her eyes cleared. She scooped me up and held me over her head.
“Hi, everyone, I’m Charmaine Ratzinger, event chair, and this is my adorable Sugar. Welcome, and I hope you have a great time.” She held me next to the mic, and I barked. That was it. Five minutes condensed into five seconds. Her best line—”open your hearts and your wallets to rescue a tiny friend”—forgotten. But we avoided complete humiliation and a meltdown.
The brush with disaster had thrown Charmaine into overdrive. Back at the table, she wouldn’t stop talking.
“So tell me, Richard …” (flick, flick with her hair—intense stare
.) “Was it very dangerous to be around all the wild dogs?” (Flick, flick—poufy lips.)
“I’m afraid you’re making it sound more exciting than it really is,” he replied. “but it’s something I care about.” He paused to take a drink of wine. “I love kids. I always imagined I’d have a family of my own by now. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”
I was dying for Charmaine to follow this tack in the conversation, but kids didn’t interest her.
“Did you ever get bitten? When will you go again? I would really like to learn more about your work.” (Flick, flick—sincere gaze and moist eyes, and on and on.)
She was flirting with him shamelessly. I didn’t care, because all of Richard’s attention was focused on me. Every few minutes he reached over to pet me. After dessert, he leaned into Charmaine. For one terrible moment, I thought he was going to put his arm around her, but instead he looked at me and said, “There’s something really special about Sugar. Take good care of her.”
“I know, Sugar is perfect, isn’t she?” Charmaine picked me up and dangled me over the table, then she set me down in front of her plate. The look on her face dared any of the snotty Chi Rescue matrons to complain.
“She’s great. But maybe we better get her off the table,” said Richard. “She might eat something that will make her sick.” He lifted me up and put me in his lap. “Listen, I was planning to get a golden retriever. I had a date to see the breeder right after Christmas. Sugar is such a great dog. You wouldn’t consider selling her, would you?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew Charmaine would never agree. Well, there might be a deal if she could throw herself into the bargain.
Richard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “I’ll give you $3,000, and I know where I could get you another mini Chi, if you want.”
I held my breath, hoping for a miracle. Unfortunately, I was priceless.
“Oh, my God. I couldn’t possibly sell Sugar,” Charmaine said, leaning over so that Richard got a big whiff of Fleurissimo and the full view of her black lace balconette bra from La Perla. “There is just no way. I’m sorry. I completely understand you asking. Everyone just loves her. Don’t they love you, Suggie Woogie?”