Rules of the Ruff

by Heidi Lang

  Jessie’s heart sank. She didn’t recognize any of this. She had no idea where they were, and worse, she wasn’t actually sure which way they’d come from. Angel had turned a few times, but Jessie hadn’t been able to pay attention to where.

  Angel stood abruptly. His ears pricked forward, lips pulled back.

  “What are you doing?” Jessie asked nervously.

  Angel let out a low, menacing growl. “Angel, s-stop.” Jessie pulled at the leash, and then she heard it, too: Over the sound of Angel growling and the children playing and the man spraying his car, someone was yelling.

  Jessie looked up. A dog was running toward them, dragging a leash behind it like a cape. Its ears were flattened back against its head, but even from this distance Jessie could tell it was a German shepherd, a big one, its dark eyes fixed on Angel.

  Angel lunged forward, yanking Jessie along. “Angel, no! Stop! Heel! Sit!” Jessie wheezed and panted and tried to yank back on the leash, but she couldn’t stop Angel’s determined sprint. She glimpsed a tree up ahead, and in a last effort, she threw her free arm out and caught it, clinging like a koala as the pull from Angel slammed her against the trunk. The momentum swung Angel around just as the other dog leapt, the two dogs barely missing each other.

  The German shepherd landed, then spun gracefully to face Angel again. Angel snarled and lunged, slamming Jessie harder against the tree. She heard a car screech to a halt, and in the corner of her vision, she could see Wes running, not even bothering to shut his car door. He still wouldn’t reach them in time. As the other dog leapt right at them, she braced herself for the impact.

  And then a woman in hot-pink capris was there, thrusting herself in front of Jessie and catching the German shepherd mid-leap. She twisted, rolling the dog away from Jessie and Angel and coming up to her feet with a firm grip on the dangling leash.

  Jessie’s jaw dropped and she almost let go of a snarling Angel, but by then Wes was there. He grabbed Angel by the collar and hauled him back. “Sit,” he said, with such authority Jessie found her own legs collapsing. He spared her a glance. “I wasn’t talking to you. You don’t need to sit.”

  “I . . . I’m good here,” Jessie managed. Spots danced in her vision and she thought she might be sick. Wes had to open her hand and physically pull the leash from her numb fingers, and she leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He scowled down at her. “Don’t thank me. This was my mistake. And you.” He turned his scowl on the woman and her German shepherd. “What the heck was that?”

  “I’m so, so sorry,” the woman said, her gaze focused on Wes’s shoulder like she couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes. Jessie couldn’t blame her; she had never felt anger like Wes’s before. It reminded her of a space heater, throwing off heat and filling the air between them. “That was quick thinking, grabbing the tree like that,” she told Jessie.

  “Th-thank you,” Jessie managed. She couldn’t look away from the woman, from her lovely brown eyes and perfect cheekbones. With her black tank top and tight pink capris, she looked like a fashion model, but Wes seemed completely immune to her beauty.

  “If you can’t control your dog, you shouldn’t—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing on the German shepherd. It gave Wes a wide doggie smile, looking nothing at all like the beast that had been lunging and snarling just seconds ago. “Is that Bruno?”

  The woman flushed, and she took a step back. “Er, we’d better be on our way. Sorry again.” And then she was jogging, the German shepherd trotting along at her side. Wes watched them go, a concerned furrow deepening between his eyebrows.

  Jessie used the tree to stand, her legs shaking. “What’s wrong?”

  “I know that dog.”

  “And . . . that’s a bad thing?”

  “I walk that dog,” he explained. “Except for this week, when his owner said he didn’t need any walks. So, the question is, why is he being walked today by some amateur?” He didn’t say another word as the woman and dog turned the corner and vanished from sight, but Jessie could practically feel his thoughts churning in his head like a vat of rocky road ice cream. She shivered.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jessie climbed into the back seat with Angel, feeling like a squeezed-up tube of old toothpaste. Wes tossed her a water bottle and a granola bar. “Th-thanks,” she said. He said nothing, his lips pressed firmly together.

  Jessie drained the whole bottle in three large gulps but couldn’t bring herself to eat. Her stomach was still in knots, the water she’d chugged sloshing around inside her. It only got worse as they drove back to Angel’s house, the dog’s loud, panting breaths the only sounds in the car.

  Wes pulled into the driveway and parked. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Put Angel away and we’ll talk.”

  Jessie’s heart sank. She knew she hadn’t made a very good showing of her first walk. She certainly hadn’t been very calm or confident, and now she’d ruined everything. “Come, Angel.” The pit bull followed her out of the car and over to the fence. Jessie slowly opened the gate and trudged through, shutting it behind her. When she unclipped Angel, he leaned forward and licked her hand, and Jessie scratched him behind the ear. “I forgive you,” she whispered. Angel licked her once more, then turned and lumbered into his doghouse.

  Jessie made sure the gate was firmly closed behind her. Then she opened the back door of Wes’s car and got in. A million excuses filled her mouth, a million reasons why Wes should give her another chance, but they popped like soap bubbles in the face of his furious blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage through the sudden lump in her throat.

  His eyes widened. “Are you crying?”

  “No,” Jessie sniffled.

  “Good. Because I have no use for crybabies. Do dogs cry? No. And neither do dog walkers.”

  Jessie sniffed again and wiped her eyes.

  Wes sighed. “Besides, you did all right today, all things considered.”

  “R-really?”

  He ran a finger down the now-familiar furrow between his bushy eyebrows. “Angel and Bruno . . . don’t get along. I never walk them together. They react poorly.”

  Jessie let out a laugh that was also a half sob. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “I made a mistake, allowing you to take Angel out first,” he continued, ignoring her comment. “I should have started with an easier dog, but, if I’m completely honest, I was hoping he would scare you and then you would leave me alone.”

  “I’m not scared,” Jessie said quickly. Her hands were still trembling from the run-in with the other dog and she felt all weak and achy inside, but she wasn’t scared of Angel.

  “I know. So, I am willing to continue to teach you the Rules of the Ruff, if you would like to continue to learn.”

  Jessie’s jaw dropped. “You are? Really?”

  “I am already regretting this decision, but yes.” He turned away from Jessie, clipped his seat belt into place, and backed out of the driveway. Jessie opened her mouth again, her head full of questions. “No questions,” Wes snapped, before she had a chance to ask any of them.

  “But—”

  “No!”

  “But why—”

  “Definitely not.”

  “I just wondered—”

  “I said no questions or the deal’s off.”

  Jessie sighed. “Fine.” She couldn’t understand why he was still agreeing to teach her, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she still had a job, and she’d get to spend her summer surrounded by dogs. She leaned back into the fur-covered seat and smiled. Then she ate the granola bar.

  A few hours later, Jessie almost regretted Wes’s change of heart. Her whole body ached, she felt like she was covered in dog slobber and fur, and she had never been so hungry. And the worst part? After her disastrous first walk with Angel, Wes wasn’t letting her actually walk any of the dogs. No, her job was to help leash them and then to trot along behind him and pi
ck up all the dog poop. Worst. Job. Ever.

  “If you want to be a dog walker, you have to start at the bottom,” Wes said cheerfully as Jessie cleaned up yet another pile.

  “Ha ha, very funny. I’m glad you’re so happy.” Jessie tied a knot in the top of a plastic doggie bag and then held it away from her with two fingers. She glared at Sweetpea. “That was disgusting, by the way.” The Lab gave her an innocent look, but Jessie wasn’t buying it; that dog knew exactly what she’d done.

  “Just glad I didn’t have to clean that up,” Wes chuckled. “This whole assistant thing is actually not so bad.”

  Jessie transferred her glare to him. She pictured herself chucking the poop bag right at his head. She could almost hear the satisfying thwap it would make when it caught him on the side of the face.

  “Come on, dogs.” Wes flicked the leashes, completely unaware of the danger he was in as he got his pack of five pups moving again.

  It really was remarkable how each dog fell into place, the two Labs on his left, the two Border collies on his right, and the golden retriever trotting along right behind him. He made it look easy, like some kind of dance whose steps he’d mastered long ago. The dog pack they’d walked before this one had been the same way, each dog instinctively moving into position, until it seemed like Wes was barely walking them at all. She’d been too distracted by the cuteness of the dogs on that first walk, the magic of their formation, but this time she noticed that Wes kept a hand on each leash, that he was ready with a quick wrist flick or a sudden sharp noise to keep the pack in order.

  Wes glanced at Jessie. “You still want to do this?”

  “Yes!”

  His mouth twitched. “OK. Just checking.”

  She didn’t like cleaning up after the dogs, true, but Wes couldn’t keep her on poop-scooping duty forever. She hoped. Maybe tomorrow she’d get to walk her own pack.

  Would she ever be able to walk them like Wes did, though? Maybe after she learned all the Rules of the Ruff.

  They finished the walk and Jessie helped load all the dogs back into the car. There wasn’t a lot of space for her with five dogs crammed into the back seat, but Wes still wouldn’t let her sit in front. Grumbling to herself, Jessie managed to squeeze in back. Immediately, Lady the black Lab took over most of her lap, and Sammy the golden retriever did his best to take over the rest until Jessie thought she might drown in dog.

  Lady rested her little Lab head against Jessie’s.

  Not the worst way to go, Jessie thought as she stroked the Lab’s silky ears.

  They pulled up to the first house. Jessie unfolded herself and took the pair of Border collies out of the car, following Wes into the house. “These two get a special treat after each walk,” Wes said, pointing out the jar on the counter full of fancy doggie biscuits.

  “Lucky puppies,” Jessie said. “Sit,” she told Harley and Molly, calm and confident. They both sat, tails swishing across the carpet in identical blurs of excitement as Jessie handed each of them a biscuit.

  “Lady stays outside,” Wes instructed when they reached the next house. “You just want to double-check her water bowl.” Jessie followed his orders, then gave Lady a quick pat before wedging herself back into the car.

  “Sweetpea has a hidden key,” Wes said as they pulled up to her house.

  “A hidden key?”

  “It means a key that’s hidden.”

  “I guessed that already,” Jessie muttered, face burning.

  Wes grinned. “Just checking. Now, this isn’t exactly a Rule of the Ruff, but it is something good to keep in mind.” He got out of the car, and Jessie followed, Sweetpea trotting along next to her. “Most people keep a key hidden somewhere in their yard. Even the ones who’ve given me a copy most likely have a key stashed away somewhere.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” He walked around the house to the small yard in back. A back porch with a set of rickety stairs led up to a closed screen door. It looked a lot like the back of Wes’s house, right down to the peeling paint on the railing. “Now, the best place to look is under anything that stands out. An empty pot? Probably has a key under it. A welcome mat is also a good place to look. Or in some cases,” he picked up a small turtle statue half-hidden behind two potted plants, “it’s hidden inside something like this.” He flipped back the shell and Jessie could see a key glinting inside.

  Wes gave her a sideways glance. “I hope you won’t use your new knowledge for evil.”

  “Me?” Jessie widened her eyes.

  Wes shook his head. “This may have been a mistake,” he muttered, but when they drove to the last dog’s house, he had Jessie search for the hidden key herself. She found it within a few minutes underneath an upside-down pot on the front porch.

  “Nicely done,” Wes said.

  Jessie beamed at the compliment. “I feel like I’m preparing for a life of crime,” she said, giving Sammy a good scratch behind the ears. “Why do so many people have a hidden key?”

  “It beats having to remember one.” Wes headed back to the car, Jessie trotting along at his heels.

  “Do you have a hidden key?”

  “None of your business, kid. Now, hop in.”

  Jessie hopped in. The back seat felt much larger, now that she was the only one in it. “Are we done?”

  “Almost. I just need to pick up one more dog, and then I’ll take you back.” He drove a few minutes and then pulled into the driveway of a large brick house. It was the biggest house on the street, with an extravagant porch made of dark glossy wood and a white-painted gazebo peeking out from the spacious backyard.

  “Wow, are these people rich?”

  Wes scowled. “Mind your own business.”

  Jessie opened her car door, ready to go leash this new dog.

  Wes’s scowl deepened. “Stay.”

  “I’m not a dog,” Jessie grumbled.

  “I know. Believe me, I know. Dogs actually listen.”

  “I listen!”

  “Not very well.” He opened his car door. “I’ll get this one. You just . . . just sit there.” He got out, slapped at the dog fur that clung to his cargo shorts, and ran a quick hand through his messy hair. With a last tug at his shirt hem, he marched up the porch steps to the front door and knocked. Even from inside the car Jessie could hear the high-pitched barking that followed.

  Jessie leaned into the front of the car to get a better look as a woman opened the door. She was pretty, at least for an older woman. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a sparkly blue top, her reddish-blond hair pulled into a fancy twist on top of her head and her earrings glinting in the sun like diamonds. Definitely rich.

  The woman glanced back inside the house and said something, and the barking stopped. A few seconds later, a small dark gray shape hurtled itself from the house and leapt up, putting its front paws on Wes’s leg. Jessie waited for him to push it off, to tell it “down” like he always did when a dog jumped on him, but he didn’t. Instead he leaned down and scratched behind one of its pointed ears, his face strange.

  It took Jessie a few seconds to realize why he looked so different. He was smiling. Actually smiling, showing teeth and everything, his blue eyes soft and gentle. Creepy, she decided. But as Wes walked toward the car, the dog at his side, she had to admit it was the cutest dog she’d ever seen. It was covered in thick dark fur, except for the white mask on its little narrow face and down its belly. With those pointed ears and the way it trotted along, it looked just like a husky, only smaller, maybe twenty pounds or so. Even though she’d never met one in person before, Jessie was pretty sure it was a Klee Klai.

  Wes opened the copilot seat and the dog jumped in.

  Jessie’s jaw dropped. “You’re letting the dog sit in front?”

  Wes spared her a glance as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Yes. This is Hazel. She gets front-seat privileges.”

  “But you don’t even let me sit in front.” Jessie huffed and sat back against the seat. Hazel
turned three times and settled down into a little wolf ball, looking very smug. “She’s spoiled.”

  “She is not.” Wes’s jaw tightened and he ran a gentle finger down Hazel’s back. “She’s an angel. Unlike certain children I could mention.”

  Jessie found this to be so unfair that she actually kept quiet for the rest of the drive, her voice choked by the injustice of it all. Every once in a while, Hazel would look back at her, those big brown eyes full of entitlement. An angel. Jessie snorted and shook her head. More like a furry little demon.

  They pulled up to Wes’s house.

  “We’re walking her from here?” Jessie asked, surprised.

  “No, I’m petsitting her. I’ll walk her around later.” He put the car in park and turned off the ignition.

  “You mean she’s staying here? With you?”

  “Yeah. Her person is going out of town.”

  “Do you do a lot of petsitting? Can I petsit, too?” Jessie asked eagerly. Maybe not this dog, but a nice dog. A dog like Sweetpea.

  “One, I only petsit Hazel, and two, absolutely not.”

  Darn. Jessie scowled at Hazel, who merely lifted her little white snout into the air. So entitled. “Why this one?” Jessie asked. “What’s so special about her?”

  Wes hesitated. “She was my first client. Her owner was the one who convinced me to start dog walking.”

  “She did? Why?”

  “She travels a lot for work and needed someone to watch Hazel, and I was in a transitional period.” He opened his door. “Same time tomorrow, eh, kid?”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Jessie grumbled. She had a million more questions, like what exactly a transitional period even meant, but she knew Wes was reaching his answering limit. Still, she had to know, “Are you ever going to tell me the other Rules of the Ruff?”